Nine Months In...

(Happy cause we caught lobster to put on our flatbread.)

We're 9 months into our 1 year cruise and this vessel has taken us far in many senses. We've seen and done so much that it already feels like our efforts have been rewarded with more than a year's worth of wondrous living.

Our time afloat seems to flow into different chapters; spaces of time streaming from one segment to the next, always bringing something new to our horizon. There were periods of time when we were focused on making miles - just passing through, on the move like nomads. Other times we chose to drop anchor and stay awhile - big chunks of time when we felt like we really settled in, where we were embraced by the community and became a part of the local scene. Some times we felt like we were on a gold-star vacation - when we landed somewhere fantastic beyond belief but couldn't stay as long as we wanted. It's a sign of a true holiday when you feel a ping in your heart the moment you arrive because you already know it's going to be so hard to leave. All we can do is savour it while it lasts! There have also been multi-day passages at sea which were physically demanding and mentally exhausting with technical issues added in for kicks; some rough days and long nights where we just wanted it to be over and done. But we always came through those chapters no worse for wear. And other times still, we were idle - stuck somewhere waiting for things beyond our control to happen. Which is the least reliable: engine part manufacturers, mechanics, UPS or the weather? We really don't know - all of them have made us wait longer than estimated (but at least the weather never made any promises). Everything always gets sorted out in due course, or if it doesn't, we adjust. 


The quality of life is abundant. We may not have all the conveniences of land life but there's freedom in the limitations. We just make it work with what we have. Wherever we go we fall into a pleasant daily routine and a new normal is quick to set in. That's just human nature. Dave and I are pretty much always within 34 feet of one another. We haven't been apart for more than 3 hours at a time since last September. Weird? Nah - it's just normal...for us...now. We've also been in summertime weather for well over a year. Life without winter conditions sure isn't a hard adjustment! (Dave insists he misses skiing.) We're used to our home rocking at times, used to dinner blowing off our forks or plates, used to living in our bathing suits, used to waking up and needing a moment to remember, geographically, where we are. We're simply used to living onboard, as anyone would be after all this time, with all its quirks and quarks!

Since September 2017, we've covered around 4000 nautical miles. Our hair is lighter; our skin is darker. I don't even want to think about that damage. If I look like a well-worn leather bag down the road, be kind, I've been outside! Our clothes are wearing out as well. T-shirts and shorts are no longer the same colour they were when we left and it seems I'm always reaching for the sewing kit to repair something or other: boat canvas, the hammock, sandals, clothes, flags... Our US courtesy flag is so tattered but I'm determined to keep it flying until the end of this journey. I'm sewing and patching it like a true patriot! 

Repairing the main sail cover. 
If you want good results - don't get me to do it!

My next sewing job: Dave ripped his shorts lifting himself from the
dinghy up a concrete wall.  A hole in shorts?  I really don't see the issue.

Dave has blown out a pair of flip flops and me, two pairs gone in 1 week! (With no stores around to replace them.) In a shoe shop in Charleston, a vendor asked Dave "Are those Birkenstocks? I've never seen them in that colour before!" (Dave and I exchanged glances as we'd just been talking about how his Birks so badly need a dye job.) Uh, yeah man, it's a special cruiser's edition. Achieving this shade takes a lot of time. You need to expose the leather to an intensive mix of sun bleaching, salt water staining and sand-blasting from the beach. The rusty buckles complete the look. 

Forget "no shoes, no service", we've seen so many signs at the business door
saying "no sandy feet"!  Staff be tired of sweeping.

 

Onboard, our Mason jar lids are corroding and certain metal zippers no longer care to cooperate. The oxidization is real! Some of our dishes have gotten chipped (tolerable and I won't switch to plastic). Like any cruiser, we've lost things overboard too - a mat, a mug, sunglasses, countless bolts, clothes pins and Dave's bike to name a few. (Bike was recovered.)  Always in these situations the mind instantly weighs the consequences of jumping in after the lost thing.  The dish scrubby is halfway to Africa by now. Since last week, my good camera no longer recognizes one of its lenses and just yesterday my lesser camera took a wave and is now manifesting its outrage by intermittently blurring shots. Marine life is rough on stuff.

Oh come on Camera!  Focus!

 

I'm happy to note that our fully stocked First Aid kit has remained that way - completely unused except for bandaids. (The eye wash solution was needed once but that came from a moronic move rather than a cool sailing story. I had 'room temperature IQ' for an unfortunate moment.) Bumps, cuts and minor burns are regular annoyances due to living and working in tight quarters onboard. Dave thought he had a broken toe for awhile but it was forgotten about.  He might have gone to emergency but they charge by the foot.  

We can't keep track of the date nor the day of the week half the time (but when it comes to the tide schedule and marine forecast, we can give you a detailed 5-day outlook. Marine nerd alert!) Asking a stranger for the time is a non-issue but ask someone for the day of the week and, oh boy, suddenly you're the biggest weirdo on the street. It's not like I need to know what year it is. (Me to stranger: "Is this...the future?") One time when talking with new friends though, I was like "it's April and...(*suddenly I was stuck with self-doubt)...wait...it is April...right?"

When it's good - it's amazing.

People back home sometimes think of our year off as a vacation. And it has been that, for parts of the time, thank God. Living on a boat for a year and thinking the whole thing would be a vacation would be misguided expectations for sure. It's not always fun and it takes a lot of work to keep the ship going but we knew this going in. We'd feel pretty useless and unfulfilled if our time was spent perpetually beaching. Our year of sailing has provided a good balance of splendor and torment! We never know what life will throw at us; there's always something being cooked up. On the water it seems like the ups and downs are felt tenfold (and not just because of the swell). There's a hot/cold intensity to everything that our lukewarm society just doesn't include in each day. And all this is a part of what defines an adventure.

Workin!

Working underway! (barf)

Life is hardest when there's nowhere to put down your drink.

 

It has been so easy to embrace the new and not look back. We've talked about our land life very seldom since we left. But "re-entry" is now looming and thoughts about our return are beginning to creep in. (Like, where are we going to live?!) The way many people put it, we'll soon be going back to "real life". The way we see it, this time off is what real life is all about; real living! We're happy we made it happen. And it's not over yet! (I definitely know which month it is now, don't worry!) We have three months to continue our way North with still a lot to look forward to. Next stop: Charleston, South Carolina! 

Hi from a happy place!