This is a tale of destiny and dreams set against a background of snow and improbability.  Why would anyone want to purchase a lovely sailing vessel intended for offshore cruising and have it trucked half way across the continent to the lands of snow and ice where the sailing season is shorter than the snowmobiling season?

My earliest recollection of anything related to the state of Wisconsin (other than the fact that my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Crumb, was from Wisconsin and knew a lot about dairy cows and cheese) was watching a football game on television between the Packers and Vikings, a very, very long time ago in the comfort of my sunny, coddled southern California teenage existence.  The image on the screen showed snow falling heavily on the football stadium of a distant and mysterious land; I can remember feeling pity for the players because it was obviously a very unpleasant place.  

I clearly recall the television camera slowly panning across the stadium crowd.  The natives of this unfamiliar place were a race totally alien to me.  In a bizarre scene the fans were huddled in the stands wearing what I later came to recognize as snowmobile suits, heavy winter hats, and full-face snowmobiling masks.  Some of them had what appeared to be large wedges of cheese on their heads.  Yet, despite these handicaps they appeared to be laughing, cheering, and generally having a jovial time drinking beer and other "anti-freeze-treated" beverages.  I deduced, cleverly, the necessity of anti-freeze in the drinks since the temperature in the stadium was well below the freezing point of plain water.  They seemed to be an amazing race of hearty and fun-loving, if not too bright, people.  I could not understand how anyone could or would live in such an uncomfortable place.  

Fast forward about half a lifetime.  I'm driving across frozen rural highways in west-central Wisconsin in mid-winter, coming from my home of over 20 years in Eau Claire, (yes) Wisconsin.  I'm going to Wabasha, Minnesota, a small town on the Mississippi River, about an hour away.  For those who have seen the movie Grumpy Old Men, yes, Dorothy, there is a Wabasha (and a Slippery's Bar).  As a point of reference before anyone gets a map, Eau Claire is about 1.5 hours east of Minneapolis, Minnesota and Wabasha is about 1.5 hours southeast of Minneapolis.  Minneapolis is west of the Hudson and east of the Colorado Rivers.  

I'm driving on a cold, clear morning through the great white north to meet the planned arrival of our (my wife, Cathy, whom you will soon meet, had to work this morning) recently purchased, but as yet unseen, Baba 30.  "Hajji Baba" is being trucked from its previous home on the Chesapeake Bay to a new home on the northern tundra.  
So if you are sitting in North Carolina or southern California trying to imagine this scene, don't bother.  It's beyond your experiences, and it must forever remain in the little compartment in you mind next to "Salvador Dali paintings".  Unseen Baba, cold and snow, grumpy old men, Mississippi River, ice fishing - they just don't connect in any rational way.  

It really began about the middle of November, after our previous boat had been lovingly covered, hugged, and put to sleep for the winter.  It is the time of year when I'm getting over the depression of the end of the previous sailing season, but not yet heartened by thoughts of the beginning of the next one.  One evening, as casually as one might expect with a discussion of the day's events, Cathy said something to the effect of "...Honey, why don't we get a new boat?"  

We have done most of our sailing on a local body of water called Lake Pepin, which is really just a long wide spot in the Mississippi River.  Our ambitions, however, are greater and we had talked seriously about "doing the Great Lakes" when the last of the kids is off to college in about four years.  As we are both planning on having time available during summer months for cruising for the foreseeable future, this seemed reasonable.  We hadn't given a whole lot of thought or discussion to either the details of the plan or what boat we might use to carry out the plan.  Our existing boat was inadequate if for no other reason than the fact that I developed severe back and neck aches after a weekend living aboard.  With several children to educate, my thinking about a new boat had been, admittedly, conservative.  My guess is that it would take another married man to understand the power, the bliss, the ecstasy of those few words "...Honey, why don't we..."  Clearly, I am blessed with a wife that likes sailing as much as I do.  

My willing, if doubtful, acquiescence to her seemingly casual inquiry, started in her the wheels and gears of a heretofore dormant but now awakened, relentless, unstoppable boat-buying machine which would rest only with the completion of its sole reason for existence: buying a new boat.  My journey to Wabasha was merely the final strand in the complex web begun with "...Honey..."

At the time the decision was made to begin looking for a new boat, we both knew that we wanted a Baba even though we hadn't discussed it and hadn't even begun looking.  That unspoken decision had been made about six years earlier, when we first stepped aboard China Girl, a lovely Baba 30 relocated from Seattle to Lake Pepin by a friend.  Eric Molinari (he recently sold her and is currently sailing a pristine Baba 35, "lan Sea").  

Our decision to look for a Baba wasn't consciously made (we like to kid ourselves and think we are in control) until after we had done a lot of comparison shopping.  Somehow "comparison shopping," in the true K-Mart sense, seems appropriate to describe some of what we did at the time.  As we sometimes together, sometimes alone, continued our search, we had come to the still unspoken but mutual conclusion that we wouldn't be happy with anything but a Baba.  Well... maybe a Cabo Rico in another life, but this time around our karma is a Baba.  

Once our emotions convinced our intellects of the proper course of action and the intellect grudgingly admitted it to consciousness, the boat-buying machine and I began talking realistically and started looking seriously.  After a few fits and false starts, working with brokers, some lackluster negotiations with not very encouraging results, we were beginning to get a little worried about the possibility that we might not find the "right for us" boat this year.  One morning about 2 AM the boat-buying machine was having difficulty sleeping so she our bed, went to the guest room, and started reading the ads in the back of sailing magazines, looking for a sign, any sign, that there was still hope and reason to be optimistic.  What was initially a half-hearted attempt to get back to sleep turned into a relentless, driven quest - a quest for a sign that life is meaningful.  And meaning, after all, is The Right Boat.  And behold, the sign appeared as in a vision - in tiny print, very tiny print - and the sign was located on the Chesapeake.  Cathy had found what appeared to be an available Baba we had missed and which was not yet in the multiple listings.  Could fate be playing with us or was this truly our destiny?  

The next morning at 7 AM (our time), after a night of half sleep, Cathy called John Nelson, the listing broker, to get the particulars.  She then came in and woke me to tell me about the quest of the previous night and her vision.  I had read about visions and even seen people purportedly having visions on television.  But I never realized how wonderful it could be to be married to someone whose early morning, sleep deprived vision would prove to be prophetic.  

As part of an estate settlement, the 1982 Hajji Baba, former love of Sam Ornstein, was reluctantly being sold by the family.  Pictures were sent (love at first sight; we love spruce and teak) and an equipment list and recent survey soon followed.  A contingent offer was made and accepted and, two weeks after the pictures were received, the deal was closed thanks to the fax machine at Kinko's, overnight mail services, some very efficient people, and destiny.  Before Christmas, 1994 we took possession, albeit long distance possession, of the new partner in our relationship.  

During that hectic two week period assets were liquidated, a bank loan approved, re-documentation initiated, a new survey completed, and trucking arrangements negotiated.  There were no major delays, problems, or annoyances in the process.  We both experienced a little anxiety because we hadn't gone through this process before (and we weren't quite sure what we were going to do with two boats) but we never had a major concern that things wouldn't work out.  After all, this love was in our stars and there was no way to deny it.  

Thus, in early January, 1995 I found myself driving through the loneliness of rural Wisconsin, up and over the frozen Mississippi River into Minnesota, down from the bridge overlooking Slippery's Bar and the fishing shanties, and into the marina at Wabasha where Hajji Baba was waiting.  So ends this story and begins another story.  

?--?

During this adventure we learned several things that we wish had known before we started and made several mistakes we won't make again.  

First, since we knew what we wanted and were generally familiar with Babas, and since it was difficult for us to get away at that time of year, we had the surveyor make a thorough video of the boat, in and out of the water.  It was an extra expense, but one we feel was worthwhile.  

Originally the video was not going to replace a personal visit and sea trial.  After considering everything, we decided, on the basis of the video, that a visit would be redundant.  We found, when Hajji Baba arrived, that we had a pretty accurate picture of our new boat and that there were no major surprises.  Clearly we were going to rely heavily on the surveyor so it was important for us to do some homework before selecting one.  Even though a surveyor is working for you, he or she may have an established working relationship with dealers in the area, which may not always work in your best interests.  

Second, since our boat was in one part of the country and we were in another part, we needed someone to prepare the boat for shipment.  The person preparing the boat is responsible for supervising the boatyard activities and doing the detail packing of equipment related to the purchase.  This person may or may not be a boatyard employee and the services can be very expensive.  In our case I calculated that Cathy and I could have gone to North Carolina, stayed in a nice motel, supervised unstepping the mast, the boat transfer in the yard, packed the boat, etc., and still had a nice two week vacation for what it cost us to have these simple jobs done for us.  We were led to believe the process was complicated and for trained professionals only - "don't try this at home, kids."  Nonsense.  In Wisconsin and many northern areas we put our boats in and out of the water every year, working with the marina operators to do it.  It isn't any different on the Chesapeake.  

Third, we learned about trucking companies.  There are a lot of them and they vary in quality, efficiency, and price.  We did a lot of calling before deciding on Boat Transport located in South Carolina.  We found them to be pleasant, efficient, and competitively priced.  At one extreme there are big, pricey companies with secretaries and official cost estimators with computer programs to do estimates that can be mailed to you.  At the other end of the spectrum are mom and pop operations where some kid answers the phone.  Estimates varied by about 30% and some companies wouldn't commit to their estimates.  Some companies specialize in power boats and when you ask about their equipment, they tell you about some Rube Goldberg contraption they can rig to haul your sail boat - thanks, I'll get back to you.  As with most things, you have to shop around to find the company that best suits your purposes.  

Hajji Baba's (now Kahlua) journey is complete for now and so is ours.  We learned a few things in the process, things we would do differently, but all in all, we are very happy with Kahlua and I hope she is happy with us.  We have spent this season learning about her, polishing her, oiling her, "Sikkens-ing" her, making plans for her future, and sailing her a lot.  So far we've rebuilt the injectors and reupholstered the interior seat cushions; otherwise she mostly just needed a lot of TLC.  See seems content, if a little frustrated, with her current situation but, with luck, she will be back in bigger waters, where she can be brighter and happier, in a few years.  In the meantime I can't help but think she finds solace in knowing she is loved as much as she is.
S


