We’ve done it again, folks! Small World is back on her anchor and we are in a cove with some of our favorite people. All is right in the world! LOLZ

Ignoring all the news that threatens to drown any semblance of hope for humanity that remains with me, our own personal reality is always more complex than the photos I post on here or Instagram showing the moments of joy or the moments when I can find the humor amidst the frustration. Sorry if that burst anyone’s bubble. But there is so much of this lifestyle that is challenging beyond what we could have anticipated back in 2013 when we fully committed to giving cruising a chance. And honestly, I think it’s also that life itself is just more than anyone anticipates as they grow up. More intense, more to manage, more curveballs, more emotions, more awareness of how you’re maybe doing it all wrong. Not a single adult warned me about this!

Which is how it probably feels for some folks who find inspiration in YouTube sailing channels, and eventually go out and buy a boat, and chase down that sunset on the high seas. We’ve heard that many of the people in that particular subset of cruisers have a really rude awakening when all of the projects consume all the time they thought would be spent lounging on beaches and sipping cocktails. And that when they do find time for the beach, they get eaten alive by no-see-ums. And that they themselves are in fact the ones who must repair the plumbing in the head because it is really difficult to find professionals who will do it correctly. (I could go on, but you get the drift.) Surprising no one, people fall in love with the online version they are presented. And even if the content creators tell you about the various pitfalls they encounter on those channels, it doesn’t compare with the reality of being responsible for it all yourself.

After 11 years of boat ownership, we don’t have any of that wool remaining over our eyes. We have shed our blood, sweat, and tears over many occasions and many latitudes. The most surprising thing at this point, is that somehow all this cruising business doesn’t seem to be getting easier. The challenges just evolve and morph. Now that we’re comfortable tackling some things, it frees up enough brain space that allows us to realize that there are still many other things glaring at us and begging for attention. I’ve never really wanted to be a cocky asshole, but Small World is making sure to keep me humble regardless.

This season, the yard period was stressful as anticipated. But we did such a good job with maintaining the Humane Work Schedule ^TM and tempering our expectations for what can actually be accomplished in a day without burning ourselves out within a week. And the splash day went the best it could have gone, with a nice soft landing at a marina across the harbor. We kept commenting on how proud of ourselves we were for staying ahead of the stress enough to avoid letting it take over. And as Craig was aloft one day during final preparations he said, “Krystle, I’m just feeling so happy right now.” Apparently the universe heard us and said, “hold my beer.”

That trip aloft did not end as positively as it started for Craig. The details don’t matter, and everything worked out in the end, but we were served another reminder that this life has some seriously intense low moments that counterbalance the incredible highs. It can feel isolating and paralyzing when so many things go wrong in short order. Our friends have experienced this, too. And logically it makes sense that boat life/projects/watching your money evaporate would be challenging and cause stress. But for some reason, when we each find ourselves within our personal Struggle Bus, we all have this wild assumption that the other cruisers are able to avoid these issues. We’re the only ones faltering now or ever. That assumption couldn’t be more toxic or more inaccurate.

Sometimes these brushes with frustration feel like a passing wave of hiccups. Disruptive but nothing we can’t manage. Other times it feels like the more serious and occasionally painful version of hiccups that are harder to shake and have a staying power that leaves you wondering if this is just how you live now. Desperate for relief and without an understanding of how you got here in the first place. These are The Hiccups. Far more distressing. That’s why it’s capitalized. For emphasis.  

Craig and I have been unlucky enough to have one of these encounters with the bottom of the roller coaster to start our cruising season this year. We’ve made it into the water, off the dock, and several hundred miles of speedy sailing but what started as a case of the hiccups finally revealed itself to be The Hiccups. It’s never fun or easy to go through this stuff, but it’s especially infuriating when it crops up at times that are supposed to be celebrations. Which is what happened this time.

Ever since a bunch of us met up in Mazatlán for the solar eclipse in April, there have been plans being drawn in sand to get the group back together to start this cruising season. Many of the boats we tend to hang around with will be attempting to aim for Panama, or crossing over to French Polynesia, or maybe finding themselves talking to a seller’s broker. This felt like an opportunity for a last hurrah together in Mexico for all of us.

And The Hiccups stayed true to form, encouraging isolation despite being surrounded by some of our favorite people. There were eight boats of good friends all together and yet some days were a struggle to get out of bed. Luckily for us, our friends are not easily scared off. They were patient, understanding, supportive, and always ready with a hug. They were open to listening, helping with projects, giving us space, or distracting us with silly antics. It would have been relatively easy to run to a different anchorage and hide from it all while The Hiccups took over, but even just sharing a space with these people is healing.

So many times I find myself writing about the what a pain-in-the-ass this boat life can be. And that is all very accurate. But once again I’m counting all the ways to be grateful for it even the hard times. Looking back at the 2013 versions of ourselves when we first brought Small World home, I couldn’t have anticipated the intensity of this lifestyle. I can see why so many folks decide not to continue. But I’m glad that we have been able to stay afloat literally and figuratively (and financially) to bask in the warmth of our friendships, let alone the Mexican sun.