A couple weekends ago, Kirk and I drove to St. Joseph, a quaint town (in the Mitten State) perched on a rambling bluff overlooking Lake Michigan.
It was a short two-hour jaunt from Chicago around the southern edge of the big lake. After reaching St. Joseph, we headed toward its tiny downtown and then crossed a high bridge to reach Marina Island. There awaited Rubicon, floating in a slip.
Rubicon, a Pearson 40′, belongs to Walt Bartkowiak. Walt is Kirk’s dad’s cousin Marilyn’s husband. I know, confusing. Tim, Walt and Marilyn’s son, usually travels from Detroit every weekend to accompany his dad on the boat. The two of them were nice enough to extend an invitation to us. (And happy to order a pair of newbie crew members around.)
What follows is a photo story of the day. Because, to be frank, right now words are boring me. Pictures are more fun. Also, after our sail, we explored the boat yard. An old wooden pirate boat caught my aesthetic interest.
[flickr album=72157622401912699 num=30 size=Large]
So after much deliberation, Kirk and I decided against throwing caution to the wind — AKA $3,000 into a fixer-upper sailboat sitting on the shores of Indiana — and instead agreed to hang on to caution, that unexciting, yet sensible, and ultimately comforting ideal.
Like the proverbial cliff jump, after your foot leaves the edge, will enough water sit far below to allay the effects of gravity? Is there even a pool down there at all, or just jagged rocks? Parachute anyone? Maybe a hang glider?
Buying any sort of vehicle off ebay is fairly risky business, and with rehabbing the condo, our reserves are going to be stretched in the upcoming months. Financially, even with a quarter-share investor secured (my Dad), we’d be jumping off that nautical precipice clutching a plastic garbage bag, at best.
Ah well, not this time. There will be more boats. Considering that worldwide oil reserves deficit thing going on, I surmise only more and more boats on the horizon. Particularly with sails.
