one year

One year aboard. Happy liveaboardaversary to me. I only wish I had moved aboard twenty years ago and taken off around the world. But at least I got off the wrong path; better late than never. Living aboard is definitely not for everyone. It presents its own set of challenges and compromises that many would consider far too inconvenient or burdensome. One is either called to it or not. I do it for the love of boating and being on the water. For the love of being rocked to sleep by the sea. For freedom.

Despite my stubborn ability to do whatever I set my sights on (other than financial success), despite jumping into life aboard and making it through the challenges of winter aboard and pets aboard and all the quirks of this lifestyle I have embraced, I am still plagued by guys a fraction of my age acting like I don't know anything about boats and talking down to me. Sigh. I was already a back-up depth sounder hanging over the deck of a 54-footer in the Keys when those boys were in middle school. Every boater, power and sail, still has something to learn to the day they die. I guess I have to stop being so polite and just tell guys who think they are old salts to STFU.

I think the frequency of snobbery and know-it-all attitudes is the biggest drawback to being a liveaboard. Those who take their boats out often look down on the "dock queens." The cruisers think they are better than the liveaboards who either choose to (or have to) live and work in one place. There is so much sizing-up over length, gadgets, miles under keel, et cetera it can be nauseating. It's bad enough in the forums, but I can easily avoid them. It's much harder to avoid the folks who come and go at my marina every day. I definitely won't ever enter another slip lease that ties me down on more than a monthly basis. There's no point to being aboard if I can't change my view and my neighbors quickly and easily.

The process of divesting myself of furniture and other "stuff" ashore continues. I am eager for the stress and expense of it to be over. Adding to the strain, my sister launched some mission to find a place to store my hope chest that I had told her would either be sold, tucked away at a friend's, or chopped up into a boat project of some kind. So I had to respond to unsolicited emails about storage to tell them I hadn't asked for any storage and didn't need any. I figure everyone has enough of their own problems that they don't need to butt into mine or create new ones for me, but I guess not.

But yesterday I made progress, selling the beautiful huge dining table, a credenza, and... the hope chest. They are going to a local artist. I know they will be going to a good home, will be enjoyed and cared for. My grandfather built the chest for my grandmother for her 24th birthday, and she gave it to me for Christmas when I was four years old. I have loved it and lugged it all over the country for decades now. My grandparents wouldn't want me to be held back, anchored down by a piece of furniture. I have the memories of them. I value what the hope chest was and stood for. It has gone on to a new home, where it will be an interesting conversation piece, where it will be cared for and used. Sentimental things are in your heart and your mind, they don't need to be in your house or a storage locker. Letting go of all those "things" is hard, but that is the cost of freedom. A small price to pay.

So, what unsolicited advice would I give new or prospective liveaboards now that I'm a year in? First, never, ever, ever sign an annual slip contract. Yes, you save money doing so. But you lose the freedom the boat is all about. And if you look around and see any empty slips at the marina, you can likely negotiate to get the annual rate even if you are just a monthly transient. Second, just get rid of all the furniture and other trappings of life ashore. All that money spent storing "stuff" is far better spent on equipment for your boat or a great boatwarming party. Yes, it is hard to let go of all those things that once meant and cost so much. But that painful purging is part of the experience of moving aboard and it is better to just rip the band-aid off and be done with it. Finally, trust your gut, your instincts, and bring all your other life experience to bear when tackling challenges. About half the advice others give you will be useful and valuable, and about half will be incredibly stupid, perhaps even dangerous advice. Just because someone has been doing something for half a century doesn't mean they've been doing it right. Trust and believe in yourself and your boat; if you love her, she will love you back.

friends I haven't met yet

I never cease to be amazed and touched by the feedback about my blog that I receive from total strangers, or, as one reader put it, "friends I haven't met yet." I've had public, anonymous, and for-my-eyes-only comments left on the blog, as well as emails and private messages via forums. Some are long-time liveaboards or experienced boaters, others are new to the adventure or planning the move. It's incredibly touching to receive these wonderful comments and messages encouraging me, complimenting my writing, thanking me for sharing my journey, wishing me well in finding love, or reminding me that the floppy-haired sailor guy didn't deserve me.

I didn't set out with any particular purpose or focus in starting this blog. I just began documenting the process of boat-shopping and then moving aboard and it took on a life of its own. It became a diary, a place where I rant, and cry, and laugh. My blog provides a smattering of photos and occasionally before-and-after documentation of repairs, but little in the way of "how to" advice. I call it the soap opera of my life aboard. I sometimes think "Why would anyone want to read about my frustrations, heartbreaks, and little victories?" Even if no one does, it's my outlet and doesn't really need to be anything more than that. So I have been moved by the many messages I receive thanking me for sharing my personal emotional journey, for being honest and heartfelt. Not everyone is comfortable "spilling their insides all over the Internet," as one friend put it, but apparently I am.

I've already gone on quite a personal journey without hardly leaving the slip. In online forums I see folks who've circumnavigated and don't have a clue about life, and love, and friendship. As with everything in life, what you bring to the adventure and what you make it determine what you get out of it. As a runner, it makes me think of marathons and ultras. A marathon is a 26 mile tunnel of deep, dark self-doubt, and then .2 miles of glorious, shining personal victory. The success would not be so sweet if it weren't for the pain and the process of reaching deep inside oneself to learn whether you have the mental and emotional fortitude to come out the other side. Aside from obvious physical barriers, anyone can train their legs to run, anyone can learn to sail. But you can get so much more out of those experiences if you let yourself be vulnerable. Take the challenges, failures, and successes as opportunities to learn about your fears, weaknesses, and strengths. If you then embrace and harness them--that is when you find your center, your true north, your inner strength to bring yourself through the roughest seas of life.

My blog may not prepare anyone for winter aboard, or dealing with a full holding tank, or learning to sail. But perhaps it lets a few folks out there know they are not alone in their frustrations or their dreams.

A very heartfelt thank you to all of my readers, whether sailors or landlubbers, friends new and old, or friends I just haven't met yet.

don't count newbies out

I've only been living aboard and on a sailboat for a handful of months. But one keen observation I've made is that folks in both the "real world" and in online forums can be pretty fairly judged by how they treat newbies. And even it it isn't fair, I'm judging them, period. Strangers have welcomed me into their lives and onto their boats, generously shared their tips and tricks. Many of my newfound liveaboard friends will be dear friends for life, I have no doubt. But if you treat "newbies" like the dirt you so despise, if your immediate reaction to their dreams of being on the sea is to look down your nose and say "you really need to take sailing lessons," you won't be getting any rum shots on my boat, but I might make you walk the plank. Everyone was a newbie at some point. Just because someone has been doing something for twenty or forty years doesn't mean they haven't been doing it wrong. Just because I'm a newbie doesn't mean I don't actually know more or have a better way of doing something.

Not too long ago I "killed" my profiles on Cruisers Forum, SailNet, and SailBoatOwners.com. I grudgingly revived the ones on CF and SN and do have some good friends there. I've had many blog readers come from those forums and I deeply appreciate the positive feedback on my blog that I've received from those folks. The forums have some useful information and some good people, but are often overwhelmed by self-righteous schmucks who spend so much time online it's hard to imagine they ever get their boats out on the water. They are snarky and unhelpful and clearly legends in their own minds. It is simpler for me to walk down the street to Davis' Pub, full of sailors, power boaters, liveaboards, and boat mechanics. I can achieve the same effect as posting a question in a forum by working my way down the bar asking for suggestions on my current project or challenge. There, I can tell if someone is an idiot, a jerk, wise, helpful, or too drunk to be handing out advice. The good folks generously share their experiences, both failures and successes. Rather than paranoid cautions of how ignorant you are and how dangerous the sea is, they readily admit that no one ever masters sailing and that if someone claims to they are full of shit. The good folks realize that plenty of folks teach themselves, no boat is ever ready, and sailors less experienced and with fewer wits about them have circumnavigated and lived to tell about it. It just isn't rocket science.

My advice to the newbies out there: buy some books; study up; use your noodle; use some common sense. Even if you're a newbie, you know more than a lot of self-appointed experts online and you bring your own unique experience, skills, and perspective. A little fresh air blowing through the sailing forums might do them good, but I'm too busy living my life. I do check the forums again, and try to post helpful comments where I have something to contribute. I'd like to bitch-slap some of the snarks, but they just aren't worth the drama. I already know of several sailors I'm likely to run across as I cruise but whom I wouldn't be willing to break bread with or invite for sundowners. The sea is a very dangerous place and I've seen from years of boating in Miami how quickly weather can turn, how quickly people can lose their lives. That is why I think having good "boating karma" is especially important. When I have the choice to lend a hand or to cut someone down, I'd rather be helpful than hurtful, and hopefully when my boat is being tossed about on a turbulent sea, Poseidon will show me the same kindness.