Living the dream?


After 3 years, life on a boat feels somewhat… somewhat… normal. At least it did prior to moving in with Anna and Elia for 9 months (love you guys). Now I’m back in land lubber mode and I’ve forgotten just how different living aboard really is. I think from the outside looking in, it’s easy to assume that my life is just peachy and wonderful and that rainbows and sunshine follow the boat on principle alone. But the reality of it all, is that sometimes (much of the time) this life is really fucking annoying. It hasn’t even been a week since leaving Seattle, and here’s a list of (some of the) shit that so far drives me crazy.

  1. I don’t know how to fix most of the things on this boat. And while I can learn, it’s a steep learning curve and there’s a lot to learn. All I actually want to do is be a beach bum.
  2. Where the hell is the summer weather? The boat was 56° this morning. It’s July. I’m pretty sure that’s half the degrees that Mamita (Hi Mamita!) is experiencing in Phoenix right now. I know I’m the Goldilocks of temperature – can’t be too hot, can’t be too cold – but is mid 70s really such a big ask? Isn’t that why people live in this part of the world?
  3. I took out a jacket to wear today, and one of the sleeves was soaking wet. Condensation strikes again. It’s everywhere. The boat is such a small space that breathing literally makes it humid in the boat.
  4. There’s a surprising amount of storage on a boat considering the size of the living space, but there’s never enough storage space. It would be one thing if the only thing to stow was personal items or boat items. But to store both sets? Impossible. How the hell am I supposed to maintain a cute wardrobe (that constantly smells like diesel) and find a place to store spare parts for every damned system on the boat. We basically have an extra engine in spare parts. Because you never know! And someone keeps trying to tell me that it’s more important than my wardrobe and he hasn’t figured out that he’s wrong yet.
    Once you find a storage spot for all (some of) the things, you promptly forget where it all went. And in the miraculous event that you in fact remember the location, it is inevitably buried beneath 50 pounds of shit that you have to take out and then put back in and it of course doesn’t fit now because OF COURSE. Now think about doing it while feeling seasick. Isn’t sailing fun?
  5. Currently we have not found a spot to store all the things. That means that our couches have turned into big storage containers. Which means, if I want to sit inside, I have to sit at the kitchen table or on the sole. I’m generally not claustrophobic, but my god. I just want to stretch out.
  6. THE FRIDGE. You fools at home have it easy. You open a fucking door, take a look at what’s inside, grab what you want, and move the fuck on with your life. I envy you more than you will ever know. On the boat, it’s a door on the top of the fridge – sorta like a cooler. So in order to keep it somewhat organized, we have bins. They’re beautiful. I’m obsessed. But god forbid you need something out of the bottom of the fridge. It alllllll has to come out and go back in. At least 5 fucking times. Because you never remember everything you need. As an added bonus, our fridge is currently freezing the shit out of our food, but the freezer isn’t really freezing things. I just can’t.
  7. I miss walking out the front door to just go for a walk. Small World is anchored out in the bay because it’s free and we don’t have jobs. Just to go for a walk, there’s a huge ordeal. Drop the dinghy, drop the outboard engine onto the dinghy, make sure the outboard is still functioning, pack everything that you might want while ashore into a bag (trash/shower stuff/money/books/layers/camera/charging cords/kitchen fucking sink), take dinghy to shore, walk around town like a pack mule, dinghy back to the boat and undo the whole damned thing. And of course it’s windy and cold and you get splashed even though you’re wearing a cute outfit because you want to feel like a normal person. I mean, how badly do I really want to walk amirite?
  8. No wake means no wake. Even for you in the fancy boat. Quit zooming past my boat and making a wake for no good reason.
  9. I really miss my people.

The moral of the story here, is that when I was day dreaming about cruising while sitting in an office, I was envisioning much less work and much more leisure time in a cute swimsuit. That was one of the main draws! What’s better to day dream about while working than not working, unless it’s working on my tan??

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9 thoughts on “Living the dream?

  1. This is the first time I read your blog and even though it’s a “Debbie downer” post it’s very interesting! I hope things turn around as far as getting used to the boat lifestyle goes. I’m sure the weather won’t unless you go south, :/ I look forward to reading more!

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  2. I guess this falls into the “careful what you ask for” category. Now, turn it around and realize you are having the adventure of a life time….up down good bad happy sad warm wet cold. I have lived aboard and it is a challenge but…much like raising children one beautiful day, glorious sunset or kindness of fellow boaters can erase a lot of the other stuff….it’s just stuff. Have fun. Miss you both!
    gretchen

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  3. Don’t worry, to get to the warm weather, all that you have to do is; go down the Strait of Juan the puker, turn left at Tatoosh Island (gentle incoming wind with gentle incoming tide, please), go a ways off shore, in big swells (Your in the North Pacific Ocean now), stay awake on your shift, at the helm, keep an eye on EVERYTHING , did I say STAY AWAKE!?- Pull into SanDiego to fix everything that broke, (do it there, because you have access to parts, and explaining technical problems, in another language will make your head explode). Now it’s a perfect temperature. South of that is real heat, bad water, street food that will give your head system an Olympic workout, and your boat it’s Spanish name “Nube Marron”. And remember that old song ” I’ve got the sunscreen in the morning and bug spray at night”.
    Wiring Whisperer

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  4. I felt the same way when we started cruising (on our 27 foot boat with 2 children and no standing headroom). So, wah, wah, wah. It’s something that is either going to grow on you or it’s not. Maybe you need a little more time up north? You sound miserable. 😦 Yikes.

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  5. Give it some time. Really. It takes a while to get acclimated and get everything stowed. Even if you’ve lived aboard for a few years, cruising is different. Just hang in there. It was worth it for me – hope it is for you.

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  6. Hey guys, we you guys last year breifly in Fishermans Bay on Lopez Island. You had us over for drinks on on Small World. We are heading out on our cruise on Tuesday. Bee lining it for the San Juans. Will you be around still? It would be great to meet up. We would love to hear about your plans.

    Hope to see you out there, Beth and Cody

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    1. Hiiii! We are up here already and may be headed to the gulfs but would love to meet up with you guys! Keep us posted on your progress and your route!

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  7. dear kraigle ~ this post was written days before ginia sailed off into the sunset forever… she used to ask me, “when are craig and krystle going to ‘settle down’ [i.e., stop “living the dream”]?” but she was always in favor of choosing life — it’s a one-way ticket so make it a great ride 🙂 i love your courage and perseverance… and beyond-belief patience!!

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About Krystle