Why?

Recently two of our sailing community wrote posts that summarized beautifully why voyagers sell everything, move onto a boat, and take off, and what the challenges and benefits of doing so are. I thought I'd share them both here (with their permission) because they're both very insightful.

 

From Wendy Vanderveer:

Here are a few "truths":

 

-Moving aboard will not fix a weak marriage, but will probably make a good marriage stronger.

 

-Life aboard is a lot simpler in many aspects, but with that comes a need to be very patient. Need to wait for weather, tides, parts, provisions, workers, crew.....

 

-Unless you have a fat wallet need to be very self reliant. Many times the best/only mechanic, plumber, electrician, rigger is the person you see in the mirror. That being said the cruising community is very diverse and if you ask the anchorage good chance you will find someone to help/teach you a missing skill, or lend you a needed tool.

 

-Life is much simpler and closer to nature. For some too close. If you need lots of comfort then LA [ed: liveaboard] life might not be for you.

 

-Living on a boat is more environmentally sound than living in a house. Smaller area, smaller carbon footprint. Lot less consumerism as impulse buying disappears and most items aboard need to be multi use.

 

-There are bad days. Stuff breaks, rough seas, bad weather, leaks, occasional isolation, fatigue, cold, hot, wet, anchor drags or worse boat upwind drags. But for most folks these items are more than cancelled out by the incredible good things. 

 

-If you do try it the hardest part of cruising it tossing off the lines for the first time.

 

Recognize that your boat will NEVER be 100% ready and accept that. Make sure the critical stuff works and work on the little stuff along the way. There are always days/places you will hold up for a spell and dedicate some of that time to boat chores.

I guess the only way to know is try it. Take at least one year, anything less is too short, to decide. If it's not for you, don't waiver, swallow the anchor and sell. Don't think of it as a failure but as a try at something that just doesn't work for you.

 

 

And from Alison Peters Brennan (with whom we spent a summer in the mooring field in Beaufort, SC):

 

We sold our home on the water a few days ago, always a happy day in a boat-owner’s life, but a sad one nonetheless. Robert and I both feel relief and regret, but new beginnings keep life anything but dull! 

 

In hindsight:

 

ALL IN [ed: their boat, a 1994 Hunter Legend] was a catharsis for me from some very difficult, emotional years, and many of those close to me never thought I would make it three months aboard given these adversities, not to mention lack of sailing experience. I surprised myself when she not only provided instant amnesty from those former hardships, but also unearthed a gale of strengths through healthy adversity. Life on a boat is not easy, but its many rewards make it a simple choice.

 

Not everyone was happy about our departure from land at first. Our friends and families worried, and we all knew things would never be quite the same. But in a few short months, they stopped asking “Where are you?” every week because they knew we were ok (or they got tired of asking because it was not easy to keep up!) Not only was all just fine, most of the time it was fantastic. Curiously, that wasn’t always easy to keep hearing, for some, as we found out!

 

Livaboard life is inexpensive waterfront property and priceless views. Unparalleled scenery from remote anchorages. Daily dolphin sightings. Manatees and rays and turtles and coral reefs. Breathtaking sunsets and stunning, quiet sunrises. Being lulled to sleep by waves against the hull and awakened by fishermen heading out. New foods from the sea. New recipes created from no-provisions necessity. Finding beach treasures. Making new friends in new places, and re-uniting with them in others. (More about that in a bit.) We never once took for granted “living the dream,” and only sometimes longed for land living and it’s conveniences. Eventually those close to me knew I was a mermaid at heart.

 

But boat life is a constant challenge. Learning to live, sleep and store (beach treasures, not to mention necessities) in small places. Finding systems to not have to do handstands locating something at the bottom of your refrigerator. Staying awake when it’s your watch. Trying to sleep when it’s not. Knowing if to eat, when to eat while sailing. Cooking while underway. Hell, making coffee when underway. To full-throttle (not particularly remarkable in our 37’ monohull) for a bridge opening or to slow enough for the next one. To go for the Bahamas crossing with companions or wait for a better weather window. To arrive before dusk to acquire an ideal (depth-, current-, and wind-related) spot in a sometimes crowded anchorage. To dinghy to shore with rough water or sit on the boat and get nauseous from it. Remembering to write in your ship’s log before settling in with a forget-all drink. Double-checking, no, triple-checking your anchor before settling in with a forget-all drink. Trying to find your boat in a crowded anchorage on a dark night returning from that long Mexican Train game with a few cocktails at a friend’s boat on the other side of the harbor. Checking the weather every 10 minutes. We have to get up early to make the trip, to make the tide, to miss the storm, to make the bridge opening…… When does the tide turn again? No more drinks for you. 

 

It goes without saying that nothing during our sailing escapades would have been worth of any of this if it had not been for the birds-of-a-feather friends who made permanent nests in our lives. They are, by far, the best about the live aboard lifestyle. It doesn’t matter where you meet them, whether it be in the marina laundromat, over the radio requesting help, or at one of the many sailor get-togethers that are held in almost every port, one’s sailing friends remain in our hearts and souls forever, on land or at sea. Ours know who they are, and we wish to thank each and every one of you for your excellent company, your expertise, your tools, your shared meals, your shared homes and boats (especially over this past summer) and especially your camaraderie and love through the years! We shall meet again. Not sure when or where, but tides and currents, and streams and bridges unite people and reunite people at the most uncanny moments.