When I was a child, we lived on an inland lake in northern Michigan. I spent summers wading along the shore, swim- ming, waterskiing, fishing, and hanging out with friends on the diving raft. My family moved “to town” when I was 16, and I sulked for months, lying in bed, still hearing the
sound of the waves in my head. I decided then and there that if I couldn’t get
back to the water, I’d never be truly happy.
As a young adult, I couldn’t afford lakefront property of my own, but when I
met my husband, Jerry, we knew that boating would play a major role in our lives.
As soon as we married, we sold our respective small sailboats and made a 30-foot
Catalina sloop our first big purchase together. Then we bought a house as close to
the water as we could afford. It was still
half a mile away, but we belonged to a
yacht club that gave us our waterfront
location for six months of the year – the
extent of the boating season on the Great
Lakes. We spent virtually all our holidays,
weekends, and spare time on the boat
during our professional lives. Now, retirement has provided the opportunity to
do all year long what we used to cram
into those limited vacations. Now, here
we are, living our dream on Monarch,
our 52-foot raised-pilothouse trawler.
We named her after the butterfly with
unerring navigation that makes the same