Anniversary muse, muse ...

I started thinking about this "part two" as soon as was "An Unexpected Anniversary Muse" was published. That post was incubated in the aftermath of having gone into night waters as Deb mentioned. The person needing a little help falls into the category of young, poor, somewhat trapped, with few options and an uncertain future. On that night she chose to cope by drinking it all away. For just a few brief minutes that choice put her at a serious amount of risk. Though the risk to me was slight, and I was glad we were around to offer a hand, I wasn't expecting to go night swimming in a tidal river to pluck a person I had talked with exactly once, out of the waves. It kind of put the whole issue of people struggling to get along on the front burner as her situation is by no means unique or unusual "out here". But I knew there was another side to the story I would have to wrestle with, for this life is different than others and labels are slippery things when soaked in water.

Over the course of our summer here in southern FL we have made friends with more than a few in the same boat as our night swimmer. (Sorry.) Actually, they were spread out over four or five different boats. All of them are good people. All of them willing to help another in any way they could, yet all of them struggling to keep going themselves. They talk of how hard it is. They are tired and frustrated, not sure where or how some particular problem can get handled. They are often ill, some with chronic symptoms unresolved since health care is a real issue for much of the cruising community. I can't help but think of them as living poor, because they are. But I suspect they would shy away from that label. "Broke" might be their choice. "Hurting a bit" if you ask how they are doing. Most will admit to having to "fill the kitty" before they can go any further. (That means flat broke, by the way.) To me "poor" is an economic label, having nothing to do with the spirit. But maybe to others it means something else.

I never really expected this to be such a large part of the cruising community, and it may not be as large as it looks to me. For the obvious reason marinas and mooring fields have noticeably fewer struggling boats hanging around. It is the same in the Islands. Here, in America's anchorages, are where those hanging near the edge hang out the most. It is where Kintala hangs out as well and many struggling through each day are friends of mine now. Come out here and they will be friends of yours as well. At least they should be.

But then things get a bit more complicated. Most of the cruisers that we know (including ourselves) are people with very few belongings. We get tired and frustrated, and are sometimes not sure how some particular problem can get handled. We have no permanent address, live off the power grid, dwell the fringe of normal society, mobile and uncommitted with, it must be admitted, our own collection of eccentricities. There is very little difference between the way my poor friends live, and the way we live.

But we are of the Kings and Queens in the world. There is no desire for belongings or a permanent address. We don't need the power grid and are committed to living light and free. We wander at will through whatever part of the world we fancy. As for eccentricities, we revel in them. We are not really like “normal” people, and that is more than fine. And my friends, those whom I think of as living poor, who have described themselves as just "hurting a bit", would say the exact same thing. They would like to not be "hurting a bit". But if that doesn't happened they are still of the Kings and Queens in the world. They are still cruisers. And they are still friends.

Not hurting as much might mean trading up to a slightly nicer boat, maybe new solar panels, a water maker, some new rigging, an additional sail. They might get an engine fixed or a refrigerator running, maybe add a bit of new navigation gear. Or maybe not. Mostly they would not be worried that any given day might be the day that they lose their grip and fall into the abyss. Smiling would come a bit easier with problems a lot less daunting. And that, to me, is the difference between poor and not poor. It is the difference between being able to move and move safely, or not being able to move at all. It is the difference between worrying about how to keep the boat functional, and just keeping the boat going as a matter of routine. Is is the difference between feeling threatened, and feeling capable.

So I'll let my previous post stand as is. There are a lot of struggling people “out here”, and they are very, very exposed. Being that exposed is a tough way to live. They know it. They live with it. They would rather they didn't have to, but they take a fierce pride in managing it as well. If one comes this way and finds themselves "hurting a bit", but lacks that fierce pride? The edge is going to be very hard to hold onto.

Veterans and young people do seem to have an especially difficult time keeping ahead of the poverty curve. Should they venture this way they need to be especially careful to be prepared. But, at the same time, the standards are different for those "out here" than for those living as land dwellers. "Poor” means a different thing to people who care mostly about what they can do, where they can go, and what they can experience. And care little about the things they might own.

If one is lucky enough to come this way without much of a struggle, be pleased. It takes a lot of work, a lot of planning, and a bit of luck, to pull that one off. Anyone who has done it can take their own bit of pride in choosing a different way. The beaches, sundowners, clear waters, and warm temperatures are well and truly earned. It is a good life.

But it doesn't always work out that way.

An unexpected anniversary muse ...

The cruising life enshrined in the glossy pages of sailing magazines and boat show halls usually involve nights on the hook in some of the world's most beautiful places. They are “near the edge” or “off the grid”, and it is grand living indeed. What they don't mention is that those are usually short visits made by people living something other than the life that, many of us who are cruising, live.

A large portion of those living here in long term, no-fee anchorages don't live near the edge. They are sitting on the edge with their feet dangling over the abyss. Many are over the edge, barely hanging on with bloodied fingernails. The crew of Kintala, by comparison, is sitting comfortably within view of the edge, hoping no more earthquakes trouble our world for a while.

Sailors take pride in “well founded boats”. There are not many of those around these anchored parts. Faded paint, decrepit teak, and torn canvas are the norm. Scavenged solar panels supplement noisy generators to keep the lights on and the food from spoiling. Decks are buried under cast off items that may prove useful in the future. There is very little money out here. That bit of dock line lying around cluttering up the place may look ratty and ready for discard, but next year it may be the best bit of line on the boat. Tossing it now may mean having to dig up the bucks to replace it later, and by later that hole might already be empty. Take a picture of a common "cruising boat".  Compare it to a picture of a shack in the poverty stricken Appalachian mountains.  The two will look remarkably similar.

To put it bluntly, the “This Old Boat” cruising community is a community largely trapped in poverty. This seems particularly true of two sub-groups of the cruising clan; veterans of America's never-ending love of wars, and young people.

Young people are especially vulnerable. Those who spend their 20s and early 30s “living the dream” are likely to find themselves locked in. For all of their worldly experience and independence, they have no solid footing. There are few skills the water dweller can trade to the land living for income. Some itinerant boat work in a yard, stray contract work here and there, maybe a few weeks of a minimum wage - part time schedule at a little place within walking distance of a dink landing sight, are what pass for “work” in the cruising world.  It isn't much, and there isn't much of it.  In addition the young cruiser likely has no social network that is “home” and lives outside the reach of America's expensive and limited version of health care. Unless very carefully considered, the choice to go cruising while young can easily become a permanent life of poverty.

Many dream of writing for pay to fund their lifestyle - the reason for all of these blogs perhaps.   Alas, even living modestly off of a keyboard is less likely than making the bush leagues in almost any big name sport, let alone the Big Show.  One must be an excellent word-smith and have access to good editing, with entertaining stories to tell or a keen eye for commentary. Even then one will be most likely have to remain content with writing for the love of art, not for the money.

Cruising is a simple lifestyle that doesn't take much to sustain. But food, boat parts, maintenance, health care, fuel, and travel expenses are mostly non-negotiable. Going from having little money to having no money is a small step financially, one that means going from a simple life to an impoverished one. Floating or fixed, living poor is living hard.

On land, poverty is institutionalized. The poor are born into poor neighborhoods, attend poor schools, suffer the indignities and harm of poor law enforcement, and only have access to poor food and even poorer health care. It is a social problem Americans simply don't care about enough to address. But poor people don't move onto cruising boats to escape poverty.

People living on a boat usually think they were making the choice to live modest and light. Cruisers don't start out living poor on a boat, they end up living poor on a boat, often the result of a string of bad personal decisions and/or unexpected personal or family responsibilities or tragedies. It is a risk of choosing this life that simply isn't mentioned very often. But it needs to be.

Some will insist that living poor is not, itself, a bad thing. They are welcome to their opinion.  But I doubt many of them are living poor, and by choice. Come “out here”, run out of funds, be anchored somewhere for months because there is no money to move, have no way back to land, and no options. Pick up a cruising magazine.  Look at the pictures.  See if that makes it any better.

That may sound like I am down on the “cruising life”.  That isn't true, though I am a bit down on the cruising media.  We love living this way. It is simple. It is modest. It takes very little from the planet but offers a lot for the heart in return.  If one wants to live well while living modestly, this is a good choice to make.  But we have been out here for a year now. Those living well outnumber those living hard, but there are more living hard then I ever expected. It is far easier to move from a good life to a difficult one than most will admit, and it can happen very, very, quickly.  No one will be out here long before they anchor next to someone struggling to get through each day.

Though this must be said as well: even those struggling, who wish it was easier, would still rather be struggling on the water than struggling on land.  If they would rather be living easier on land than struggling on the water, is a question no one asks ... and no one answers.  The fact is, once one is living hard on the water, it is damned difficult to get back to land without help.

Coming out here without thinking of how easily this good life can turn into a hard one, is a good way to find one's own story changing into something much different than what was expected.