I live on a sailboat, and here's what I have to say...

When it comes to life on a sailboat, don’t think for one second you won’t have your work cut out for you. A life of freedom and travel isn’t always the most glamorous one. I live with my partner but it’s hard to say if it is more difficult to live with someone in such a small space as opposed to living alone. At this point I reckon that living alone on a sailboat could come with an overwhelming aspect of loneliness. There is rarely a time you aren’t sleep deprived, sunburnt, hungry or just plain moody.

Last year, Michael and I started this endeavor with zero sailing experience but an itch for a challenge. Little did we know just how difficult things could get.

October 10th was our first night on the boat. We spent the day making trips back and forth from the boat to my house on land. The previous owner left behind piles of old rusted scrap metal, dozens of paint cans and several opened bottles of oil. The boat, now named Lady Idyll, came first equipped with a wood stove and we only needed enough space that first night to keep the fire going and have somewhere to sleep. I don’t know what I anticipated living on a boat was going to be like, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how much personal growth I was about to go through.

Things started out far from comfortable. We had no electricity, no running water, no fridge or icebox, no washroom, still piles of junk everywhere and our mattress was something you would expect to see on the street. We were overwhelmed but excited to work together and eager to get started on renovations.

At first, I was still working a full-time job in retail management trying to manage both lifestyles at once. We spent every possible minute on the boat except for showering and laundry and it still wasn’t enough. The arrangement only left us with very minimal time to do any work on Lady Idyll between my work and all of transit. After only a couple of months I made the decision to quit my job and pursue this crazy adventure full time.

The decision to quit my job is something I plan to write about in another post. To explain my “why” and what drove me to take that step and what I think about the decision since. But that’s not what this piece is about. Its about how making that choice was the best decision I ever made even though I severally underestimated the difficulties I was going to be faced with in this small space.

The first few months were hell. We fought about everything and got on each other’s nerves every day. We weren’t taking the time to listen to each other and learn about one another. We lacked communication and found ourselves upset and misinterpreting most things said. We struggled to work together on projects and quickly discovered we have different learning styles. I took everything personally and let my emotions get the better of me pretty much every day, and Michael was trying to cope with a depression that took me awhile to understand.

Moving from living on your own, in your own space, where you don’t have to take anyone else into consideration, or where you can be alone whenever you want to, to managing life on a 48’ sailboat…was a mental and physical adjustment neither of us were really prepared for. We went from sleeping alone on queen sized beds in heated rooms, to sleeping together with less than 4 ft of space at one end of the bed and about the same distance between the bed and the ceiling. Mild injury became a part of every day.

As for the heat, it was up to us to keep wood stocked and feed the fire throughout the day or night to stay warm (we slept in socks and sweat suits during the winter)

) You, your clothes and the boat are dirty almost all the time. Someone is often in your way and your daily routines and schedules probably don’t match up. If you didn’t have the same diet before, there’s a good chance it will end up that way. With only so much space on a boat you don’t have the luxury of storage or cupboard space. There is always something that needs to be maintained or fixed and yet boredom and irritability can set in so quickly its honestly surprising. We only have one dinghy to take us to shore which means pre planning and communication are a must if you want to do something on your own.

Slowly things started coming together and 6 months later we had installed 6 deep cycle marine batteries powering a variety of appliances including a fridge and new diesel heater for the cabin, as well as the wiring for the lights. We had a proper mattress custom made and purchased all new bedding. The inside was as cleaned and had a fresh coat of paint on it and we were finally getting to do more living than working.

Still, we hadn’t even moved the boat yet let alone do any sailing. We hadn’t taken any time to learn about sailing in the process. We did make some friends in the anchorage and learned quickly that the boating community is one that really looks out for each other and is happy to offer up assistance or knowledge. Still, one of our biggest take-aways is that every person and every boat is still very different. You really need to feel it, and everyone has their own style or method. As someone who has a really hard time failing, even I was able to learn quickly to just dive into everything with full confidence and if something goes wrong then oh well, it’s okay. Pretty soon being at the helm wasn’t so scary.

Almost a year later and I can honestly say this has been the most rewarding and most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I’ve learned to listen more and speak less. I’ve learned how to reef a main and hoist the jib. I’ve learned the difference between amps, watts and volts. I’ve learned how to love truly unconditionally and how to let myself be loved. I’ve learned what it means tack and gybe. I’ve learned what it really means to be part of a team. And most importantly I’ve learned to trust myself and to believe in myself.

The places we’ve gone already and the people we’ve met is something I plan to cherish forever. We haven’t even left the country and I have memories on the ocean with people I’m honored to call my friends.