Do you ever get into one of those manic moods where you decide to clean out EVERYTHING in your house? One project turns to two, and then three, and before you know it your plan to tidy the office has resulted in donating three car-fulls of clothes, furniture, and appliances?
(whispers) Uh, yeah. Me neither.
For all my Gilmore Girls fans, I was definitely channeling my inner Emily:
Conor came home and was like, “Are you sure you want to get rid of this? What about that?”
Me: “IT DOESN’T BRING ME ENOUGH JOY!”
I roped him onto my crazy train and, well, this was the result:
Even before deciding to live on a boat, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of minimalism. I came across tiny houses first, and was enchanted with not only their obvious adorableness, but the lifestyle that inevitably accompanied them. Subscribers to the idea of “less is more” accumulate time and freedom instead of material goods.
Conor is gone a lot. And by a lot, I mean we’ve been through two back-to-back 6 month deployments, 6-week field ops twice per year, and the countless 10-day exercises that pop up with little notice. So, we need to make the most of the quality time that we do spend together. By paring down and decluttering our lives, we believe it will help keep our marriage strong.
I think we are already off to a pretty good start. We have never really been “shoppers” and Conor has made a lot of our furniture. We can actually park our car inside our garage (which is more than I can say for most of the people on our street). In fact, looking at all the overflowing garages of my neighbors completely stresses me out. I can’t imagine hauling all of that across the country, unpacking it, then repacking it a few years later to do it all again. We have what we need. I don’t like decorations or knickknacks, and I avoid Etsy. But still, I know we have WAY to much stuff to move onto a boat. It is scary how much stuff the average American accidentally accumulates.
I’m going to back up here for a minute and tell you all what I originally had pictured when we decided to live on a boat.
We would get a catamaran. Hands down. No doubt. Living above the water with more cabins, increased stability, a shallower draft for cruising in tropical waters, and more speed appealed to us. Because of our budget constraints, we were looking at catamarans between 35-38 ft. The market for catamarans is way smaller than for monohulls, and cats are generally more expensive (for a variety of reasons I won’t get into with this post). The smaller (used) catamarans fit within our budget, and I couldn’t wait to try out a Gemini 35 at the San Diego Boat Show.
Then came the biggest surprise for our “perfect boat”: Conor didn’t fit. He was legitimately too broad to navigate the narrow hulls. As I watched him side-shuffle and then have to duck through the doorway into the head, I laughed out loud. I thought, Welp, there goes that plan. This is what happens when you marry somebody who is 6’1” and 235 lbs.
So in an instant, we changed the plan. We found out he fits very comfortably in a good-sized monohull over 40 ft, so those are the sailboats we are looking at now. Every family is different!
Living on a sailboat just makes sense to us. It combines our love of travel, desire for minimalism, and the romantic notion of living in tune with the sea. While we don’t have the complete freedom to travel yet due to Conor’s position in the Marine Corps, we are allowing the next few years to be a learning curve as we discover what this change in lifestyle means for us.
It is also a way to thwart some of the strict regulations that accompany military life. There are already so many day-to-day rules and standards that conforming can feel suffocating at times. Living on a sailboat is a way for us to embrace our individuality and challenge ourselves in a unique way. Conor and I have inherently creative souls, and this alternative environment will nurture that. There is more to life outside of the Marine Corps, and I think that a lot of military families forget that.
Don’t get me wrong, Conor has wanted to be a Marine since he was 12 years old. His father was a Marine for 20 years. It was the lifestyle he grew up in and it shaped who he wanted to be. However, we both agree that we want to do it on our terms. We basically have a military “safety net” as we transition to life aboard. One foot in our old life, and one in our new life.
“Sucking at something is the first step to being sorta good at something.” Words to live by. In my opinion, there is no better way to learn something than by doing it. Currently I don’t feel prepared AT ALL to live on a sailboat. Here is the sum total of my and Conor’s experience level so far:
1 overnight on a 38 ft Hunter via AirBnB
1 weekend beginner level sailing course, certification via American Sailing Association
2 books read about living aboard/cruising
6 months obsessively reading the WindTraveler blog and Googling sailing vocab words I didn’t understand
1 afternoon at the San Diego Boat Show (2017)
That’s it. Props for honesty at least, right? But here’s the thing: we will learn more within 30 days of living on our own boat than we could ever hope to learn via classroom or instructor. I think it is kinda like having a baby: you can read all the books you want on parenting and childbirth, but you aren’t going to fully understand it unless you experience it.