We drew up and endlessly revised the lists of must-haves. Chief among

them was that we wanted a trawler small enough for us to tow to

interesting rivers. Beyond that, I left to Dave the minor technicalities

like hull configuration and engine specs, while I concentrated on the

really important decisions like the color of throw pillows in the cabin.

My basic requirements were simple: I wanted a boat with the amenities of

our 22-foot motor home. That is, a permanent bed and dining table;

air-conditioning (which means a generator); a double sink; a hot water

system and shower; a good-sized, accessible fridge; a full-length closet;

a bathroom with its own lavatory. I was willing to waive the microwave.

The search began. Having sold the sailboat on the Internet, we logged

countless hours on-line in search of the Next Boat, and still drove

countless miles up and down the East Coast.

Among our destinations: Odessa, Fla., where Nimble Boat builds a series

of trawlers and motorsailers; Halifax, Nova Scotia, where Rosborough

builds a small workboat tough enough for Canadians to use as a police and

rescue craft; Oxford, Md., where there are lots of used Albion 27s; and

New Bern, N.C., where a small trawler advertised in Soundings seemed

exactly right.

Dave had his heart set on the Albion, but it didn't appeal to me at all.

There was just something about it even negative emotions obscure

reason.

"We could get the best deal on this boat," he argued, "because there are

so many used ones on the market."

"Exactly," I responded. "Haven't you asked yourself why? Nobody else

likes it either, and everyone who has one is trying to get rid of it."

His next favorite was the Nimble. It comes in a range of sizes, but for

us to trailer it, we'd have to stay with the 25-foot Nomad. It has both

an aft and a forward cockpit, a nice touch for easy and safe (read

geriatric) boat-handling. But that eliminates the V-berth and requires

taking down the dinette every night to make up the bed. Out of the

question, says I.

I wrote last year about going to New Bern. Everything about that trawler

sounded perfect, and after a long drive, we walked to the dock tinglingwith expectation. We were about to step onto our Next Boat.Didn't happen. To this day neither of us is sure why. It simply wasn'tour boat.On our way home from Prince Edward Island last fall where, of course,we checked out virtually every marina on the map we looked at theRosborough. In fact we took it out on the water for several hours, with asalesman and the comely young daughter of the dealer. The teen waschatty, the day bright, the boat impressive.Trouble was, it was more boat than we need, very tough, built for openwater in a rugged climate, and that added cost, weight, and too muchdepth for the shallow boating we were envisioning.By now disheartened, we thought to stop at a marina near Annapolis, Md.,where we had learned there were a couple of Nimbles for sale. One, aNomad, had hardly been used and was priced right its previous ownerwas transferred to Europe. Remember my point about emotion over logic? We took that little boat outon the South River on a radiant autumn afternoon and fell in love.Don't ask why. She doesn't have the permanent bunk I wanted, nor hotwater, and neither an AC nor a generator to run one. The fridge is tinyand requires bending all the way to the floor, and the shower cold is in the cockpit.Remember my point about compromise? Everything on this boat must serve atleast two purposes. It has a head (as nautical types call the bathroom)which doubles as a hang-up locker. Don't lean back when you sit down inthere you'll squash the shirts. The sink in the galley (nauticalese for kitchen) is not only single butvery shallow, and doubles as the lavatory lacking in the head.The boat is loaded with electronics Dave would never have bought forhimself, but he'll just have to keep them. Logic be hanged. This was it: our Next Boat.

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