To Sell Or Not To Sell

BreakfastWe’ve been back for only two weeks, and already, our cruise seems like ages ago. I’m always so surprised – and so disappointed – at how we just slip back into the daily routine, even if we are still splitting time between the condo and Clarity. The roots of what’s familiar, what’s expected, what’s known, grow like weeds.

I think that’s one of the reasons why we’ve decided to sell Clarity.

For something bigger and more equipped for living aboard full time, and in places other than the Great Lakes. For a boat where the list of projects to reach living aboard longer isn’t so long that we lose motivation (though ongoing projects are a reality with any boat).

We are selling Clarity so that we are one big step closer to realizing our dream, in whatever form that takes, still to be determined (staying in the Great Lakes, sailing down the East Coast to the Caribbean, etc.). It’s time to actually take action toward something we’ve been talking about for years. Otherwise, those roots of what’s comfortable and what’s expected, will strangle us.

We’ve told friends and family about wanting to live this lifestyle more permanently for awhile now, and I’ve come to expect (understandable) reactions of surprise and confusion – I myself was more prone to this reaction five, even three years ago.  How will we work and make money, is another question I get – but more on that in another post. What’s shocked me the most, though, is how much concern is expressed about Claire not being in school.

It’s not that I don’t value what organized school provides – in fact, Claire started preschool just two days after we were back in Chicago, and she attends two to three mornings a week. She absolutely loves it, and I have no doubt that she’s learning so much, even just observing the other kids there.

CupsBut though I can value the school setting, why is it so hard for others to value non-traditional settings? Why has it become the expectation for kids to sit in a classroom and learn about adventures, rather than live them? Why are the parents thought to be not putting their children’s best interests at heart, when they’re committing to both being present, teaching and learning alongside them?

And why is it more important to socialize with the same classmates every day, rather than to introduce yourself to new people, in new places, with different cultures? Claire is our social ambassador, after all. She’s never come across a person (or puppy, for that matter), that isn’t immediately informed of her name and what special treat she’s had that day.

Again, I’m not discounting proper schooling – I already see the benefits for Claire! I just struggle sometimes as to why the definition of it is so concrete. We are blessed as a family to even be able to consider this lifestyle. Why would we let it pass by? And of course, if Claire was unhappy on the boat, we wouldn’t even be considering it. But unprompted by us, she asks to go back when we’re not there, and the pure joy that makes it so hard for her to not skip or run down the dock when we get there speaks for itself.

There’s no time like the present – when Claire is still at a young enough age where we feel confident that we can teach her the milestones that are included in the curriculum. And when she isn’t yet tethered to a schedule of whatever sports or hobbies or activities she’s involved in, because we want to give her those opportunities, too. (Whether or not she develops the passion for sailing that we have.)

So, wheels are in motion, so to speak. We’re decluttering and giving Clarity a deep clean, and I’m trying to write a listing that will do her justice and convey her importance to our family in between the lines of dimensions and specifications. It could take a year for her to sell, or it could take a few months. And if she doesn’t sell in a somewhat timely manner, we will likely go back to that long list of “must-haves for long-term cruising” and just commit to executing.

There’s an old Scottish proverb, “What may be done at any time will be done at no time.” It’s time to go do.

 

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What Cruising Does To Marriage

The Happy CoupleOn our first morning back in Oak Park, I happened to run into our neighbor, Carol, who naturally asked about our trip. “You lived on the boat for more than a month straight?” she asked. “You must have a strong marriage.”

Her comment made me smile at first. Of course we do, I thought. But it stuck with me, and I started to reaffirm for myself how unusual our situation is. How challenging, and also how rewarding. Don’t get me wrong – we got into it a few times on this trip.  But we worked out our arguments quickly and were on to the next thing. And I always think Aaron and I end these trips stronger as a couple than we began them.

For most people, either one or both spouses does the daily grind, 9 to 5 (or later), Monday through Friday. For the first three years of our marriage, Aaron and I both did this. If you have kids, the evenings are then spent having dinner together, getting the kiddo(s) to bed, and collapsing for an hour or two before sawing logs. Similarly, weekends are devoted to family time. Talking strictly in terms of hours, you’re married more to your job than you are to your spouse or your family.

During these cruises, all day is family time. Every evening is together time. Weekdays and weekends run together. We are together All. The. Time. I will admit, the first summer we did a long cruise, this took adjusting and a lot of deep breaths. I’m used to my freedom, even with Claire, and so is Aaron. But this cruise, our third, we settled into it like a familiar routine.

A big part of it is shifting our mindsets. We’re not just husband and wife – we are captain and co-captain. We simply have to work together to sail the boat from one place to another (and manage Claire to boot). The dynamics change a bit when we toss lines: To a certain extent because he’s more experienced, Aaron becomes my boss. I know my role, have settled into my own responsibilities, and he tells me what additional things need to be done. I know that whatever he asks me to do, he’s asking to help us go faster, keep us safer, etc. That, in and of itself, took some settling in for us. But it works because we respect and trust one another. And when things do get a bit heated, we try to remind ourselves to extend each other some grace.

When we are in port, I think we’re also both mindful of allowing each other some space to breathe. I’ll encourage Aaron to head to the pub in the evening to get some time away, enjoy a pint and swap sailing stories with the locals. In the same vein, he will happily take Claire for a few hours so that I can peruse the shops and find a new favorite coffee shop. We both did that a bit on this cruise, but to be honest, it always amazes me how little either of us takes advantage of this. Sometimes, just knowing that we can is enough.

Another big part of the equation, too, is that Claire is always there. She’s a smart girl and she already picks up on a lot – even if no words are being exchanged, but there’s tension wafting in the air. Having someone else there, bearing witness, naturally makes you a lot more accountable for your actions. It’s not that we never have disagreements in front of Claire – that would be unrealistic. But when we do argue, it reminds us to take a deep breath and step back. And to show her that, though it happens, we love each other and we can resolve the issue.

Every year when we get back to 31st Street, instead of heading for the car as soon as the engine is off, we spend an extra night on the boat. We have a lazy morning the next day. We talk about the trip and we always, always, wish we had more time. More time to explore. More time to spend together. And that, I think, is a true testament, to our marriage, and our family.

Message In A Bottle

While enjoying a peppery Door County port a week ago, I noticed that the bottle would be a perfect vessel for a message sent out to sea. And with a week of longer sails ahead and plenty of time to keep the kiddo entertained, I thought it might be a perfect project to do with Claire while underway.

The first day, we drew pictures in the cockpit. Hers was a big purple heart with a snowman on the other side (of course), mine was a silly caricature of our boat and family, and Aaron drew an s/v Clarity compass. The next day, Claire spent the better part of an afternoon in her cabin, sorting her beads and making a beautiful necklace on a shoelace. And I penned a letter to whoever finds our bottle, or the powers that be.

On the third day, Claire helped as we rolled up our letters, dropped in the necklace, corked the bottle and headed up top. Then, with Aaron and I right next to her, she stepped over to the lifelines, gave the bottle a tight hug, and her eyes tripled in size as we told her to throw it overboard.

I tried to explain to Claire what our little project was all about, though I’m not quite sure how much she got it. A few minutes after she tossed it in the lake, she asked if she could throw it in again :). But we had a lot of fun in the process!

Likely, nobody will find it. But even so, it felt good to donate an offering to the mighty Lake Michigan, who’s treated us so well on this cruise, and kept us safe.

Our Own Adventure Island

Running along trails in dense forest, building inuksuks on rocky beaches, watching the sun set on Clarity from what once was a party palace for a wealthy Chicago inventor, and cuddling up for campfires a stone’s throw from our bow.

Rock Island was a dream of a place that wasn’t even on our radar. Tied off in Sister Bay, we were planning to try for Washington Island, the island just north of the tip of mainland Door County. But Aaron happened to strike up a conversation with our friendly dock neighbors, who encouraged us to head for Rock instead. There was a tiny dock there, they said – big enough to hold three or four sailboats, and just enough depth for us. As we set course, we weren’t even sure we would be able to get in there.

As we approached the island in late afternoon and the boathouse started to come into view, I think Aaron and I already had a feeling that this was going to be an unforgettable adventure. We landed the boat without a problem, greeted by the hospitable ranger who got us settled. From that point on, we pinched ourselves regularly, reminding ourselves how lucky we were to have found this place.

The entirety of the island is a 912-acre state park. No cars are allowed. No bikes are allowed. The only way to access the island is by boat, either private or ferry, and the only thing they sell, other than a few trinkets, is a bundle of firewood for $8 (“must be artisinal wood,” as a fellow sailor joked one night around the campfire). Rustic campsites line the southern border of the island, and there’s no cell service.

The majestic Viking boathouse that greets all visitors is the only remaining building of wealthy Chicago investor Chester Thordarson’s party compound, built in the late 1920s. Claire and Aaron enjoyed a riveting game of chess in the grand ballroom.

And what more? I’ll let the pictures below speak for themselves. We spent two days here, and it wasn’t nearly enough.