Living On Your Boat Part Time

Living on one's boat isn't going to be most people's cup of tea. Limited space for clothes, no space for an ironing board, and no washer/dryer make simple tasks like dressing for work complicated. Mundane things have to be planned carefully, especially if your boat is on the hook.

And yet ... it can be so wonderful.

I got an 8 X 10 tarp (heavy duty) at Wal-Mart. I tied one end to the ends of my traveler, and I tie/bungee the other end to the Bimini frame. The sides hang down enough to keep all rain out of the great majority of the cockpit. It reminds me of tent-camping.

The night before last, my cat and I sat at the edge of the tarp, watching the rain fall, watching the storm clouds form and move on to be replaced by other storm clouds. The lightning displays were awe-inspiring. It was peaceful and cozy. I do have a fan under the tarp with us, so it doesn't get too stuffy.

It was a delightful experience, but only worth the trouble if you're going to spend the night on the boat. And to top it off, now I have another option for people to sleep on my boat on a trip, because I tried it -- I stayed dry. I folded up the edge of the tarp so the the fold went to the outside, and it channeled ALL the water ... to the scuppers. It's just a matter of having the right sized tarp for your boat.

If I hadn't moved aboard my boat, I never would have had seen the extended and phenomenal experience of bioluminescence in the water. Bioluminescence occurs when small algae that glow in the dark rapidly explode in numbers. I don't think marine scientists know why it happens, but it only happens occasionally in Boca Ciega Bay. In the little place I stayed, Pasadena Marina, the algae exploded into a fantastic bloom during the summer of 2102. When the water is disturbed, the algae get agitated and glow a beautiful, deep, neon aqua that can only seen to be believed.

This bloom started in early August and lasted well into October. At its peak, when you looked at little white caps on the water at noon, you could actually see the phenomenon. Water can sparkle in the sunlight, but this was like sparkling liquid diamonds. At night, you could jump into the water, and make "angels in the snow," only it was "angels in the algae." These algae have no harmful effects on humans, but don't jump into a marina to do this. Marina water isn't always the cleanest, and in addition, the most vicious shark on the planet, the bull shark, seems to like to hang around docks. So don't take foolish risks -- take your boat out of the marina, anchor, and give it a try.

ALWAYS leave one person on the boat, and make absolutely certain you have a good, long ladder so people will have no trouble getting back aboard.

Stay anchored out for the night. Spend a night or two on your boat.

At night it can be tricky to know whether your anchor is dragging or not, so here's an easy trick: use your MOB (Man Overboard) button to mark where you set the anchor. That will give you an easy reference for how far you might have dragged. Most chart plotters also have anchor alarms, but test it to make sure you can hear it.

I tried to photograph the bioluminescence and failed miserably, so here's a site where you can see this amazing sea event. Critters glowing below you; incredible displays of stars above you, not washed out by civilization's lights -- it just doesn't get much better than that.

Try this site to get some idea of what bioluminescence looks like:

http://biobay.com/

The bioluminescence isn't usually that intense in the St. Pete area, but it was in the southern end, at least, of Boca Ciega Bay, last summer. You'll never know the wonders you miss if you never spend the night on your boat.

Go to our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/boldlygosailing?skip_nax_wizard=true

I Told My Friends I Was Moving on to a Sailboat ...

 

     Or, "What are you -- nuts?????"

“Why are you doing this?” “Are you sure that’s safe?” And the big one – “Why NOW?????” After all, I had chosen to live on a sailboat at age 64. Friends felt as if I were moving away. One friend cheered me on while another worried that I would end up in a run down trailer park one day. I suspect my sister thought I had finally gone ‘round the bend.

Not only was I 64, but I was born with mild cerebral palsy (CP). Now, for those of you who don’t know, cerebral palsy isn’t an illness that gets worse over time, as multiple sclerosis does sometimes, or as Lou Gehrig’s Disease does. You’re born with it. You can learn to maximize your abilities, but as you get older, if you don’t actively work to keep the abilities you’ve developed, those skills will fade. But it doesn’t get worse over time just because it’s CP (see my two entries, “Where My Tenacity Came From" for more about my CP).

The answer to the big question, “Why now?” is “If not now, then … when?” I’d already dodged a couple of bullets. I could have born with a much more serious degree of CP. I could have spent my life in a wheelchair. I was very, very lucky. Then I had breast cancer when I was 60, and I survived it. Again, I was very, very lucky. Just how much longer was it wise to wait if I wanted to do this? At my age and with my history, every day is a gift. At 64, if you are burning to do something, now is the time do to it. Not tomorrow, and not next week. The awful truth is that a metaphorical refrigerator could fall on any of us at any time. But the other awful truth is that the older one gets, the more falling refrigerators there are to dodge.

If I was going to do it, now was the time.

My parents, I recalled, had made the mistake of not noticing that the sky over them was slowly filling up with refrigerators. Those possible life-changing medical crises were getting lower and lower (closer and closer), and the straps holding them away from them were wearing out, but people tend not to look up.

And oh, my parents had plans. When my dad retired, they would take their travel van to the Grand Canyon, and the Smokey Mountains, all sorts of places. A couple of months before my Dad’s 65^th birthday, he announced his impending retirement to resounding cheers.

Then my mother got called for jury duty. It didn’t seem like a big deal to her, and she went to do her civic duty. At 64, she sat on a hard wooden bench, not moving much, for two days. She took a book, a deck of cards and a good attitude. She met nice people, and they played cards as they sat on those wooden benches. After two days of not being assigned to a jury, they released her from her obligation. She and Dad went out to eat. She was stiff and sore from the two days, and she slipped on just a few terrazzo steps in the restaurant.

She took a hard fall and shattered her thighbone. An orthopedic surgeon performed extensive surgery and put her leg back together as best he could, but she was in constant pain for the rest of her life and walked only with great difficulty and discomfort. Most of the time she used a wheelchair. That was the end of their travel plans. Then a couple of years later Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He wasn’t as lucky with cancer as I was. They didn’t catch his in time, and once it had spread to his bones and liver, he couldn’t do much either.

LESSON LEARNED: I’m not saying anyone should precipitously quit their jobs to become vagabonds, but as one plans for one’s retirement, I urge them to enjoy life along the way as well. Retirement isn’t the only destination. Each day is a destination, and each day can be an adventure, even if it only lasts for 30 seconds. Those 30 seconds will energize you for the next hard day of work, and if you pay attention, you may come across another little adventure on the next day as well.

So, here’s to adventures. They don’t have to all be as grandiose as stepping out of a condo in a retirement community and onto a sailboat to be of value. They only have to be some form of an experience you want, welcome and treasure. My dream was to live on a sailboat. What’s yours?