Maritime Musings

There are people out here with much fancier boats. I don’t really envy them. It seems too complicated. Like the more costly the vessel, the less close to nature. For me, that closeness is why I am out here. For too many of us, life has grown insular and earth bound, with more contact with pavement than grass.

Living aboard is maddeningly hard and a teeny bit scary at times, but such is life. I don’t want to be entirely insulated from the arduous tasks of being human. I like our routine, hauling anchor, securing lines and knowing all the toggles on the breaker panel. I’m partial to the fact that all our lights, cook-tops, blenders, computers, music, navigation systems—they all run on solar power. It gives me a surge of happiness every time I think of it. 

Our Andiamo is an oldie but goodie. A 99 Off Shore Yacht Fish 48. It definitely takes a curated mix of craftiness, skill, marine knowledge and naive optimism to rely on her for long periods of time. It is not easy. Most of us live a very comfortable life, so to willingly choose the vexation of boat life means that there is something very special about it. 

This isn’t the first time I have chosen an alternative way of life. During art school years a group of lived close to the land, growing things, drawing, painting, cooking food and making music. We summered in lean-tos and graduated to makeshift cabins in the woods. When my first child was born, we lived in a tiny cottage with no running water, heated by a wood stove and equipped with electric power. (For that, we had to lobby the town to put a electric pole at the end of our road.)We heated rainwater, collected in a cistern in the basement, for my baby’s nightly bath (he is 47 now). In the summer there was a hose for outdoor bathing. One winter, the snow was so deep we had to ski in and out with laundry and groceries.  

I find myself thinking of those days as hours pass on the water. They seem hopelessly idealistic. But once the values of reverence for the land and kindness towards each other are instilled, they live on. Witout political commentary, I can silently wish for these values to to take hold once again. Technology has led us far from our hearts, but it also enables me to post these words, So there’s that. I’m glad I learned how to do the hard stuff. I know how to improvise and make things by hand. Knowing this makes me all the more grateful today for the comfort we have on board. Nice dry bed, hot showers, Wifi, refrigerators, and even Netflix and Apple TV.

Th most important part—the reason we do this (and, trust me, there are those rough moments when I ask myself why)—is because we’re intimately connected to the environment… touched by every aspect of the weather—the tides, the beating sun (or lack of it), rain showers and dark storms, giant swells and crazy wind. We wake with the rising sun and relax in the evening with a glass of wine watching the majestic sunsets that cap off the day. A full moon never goes unappreciated. And the miracle of a dark sky, when we’re anchored off tthe coast of Maine rewards us with a indigo canopy filled with bright stars. It’s miraculous.