We found her.

Finally.

After almost 6 years of kissing frogs it happened; we bought a sailboat. 

Her name is Eileen May and she lives in Mexico.

This is a surprise to us. How it came about that we own a sailboat in Mexico.

How, after a year of grieving the loss of Summer Rose, our lives have now changed so quickly.

In November, 2015 we found a new listing of a Passport 42 -- Shay's dream boat. The sailboat was moored near Portland, Oregon and for sale by owner, in a price range that was uncomfortable. 

But hey, what's to lose by inquiring?

The owner was living in New Zealand and was ill so no longer sailed Summer Rose. She was cared for by a friend, who would show her to us. 

By the end of the weekend we were seriously falling for her, her layout, deck, cockpit, was just so perfect. She was clearly well loved. We decided to go for it. 

Two months later and $2500 poorer, a disappointing inspection, and a recalcitrant owner, we were at a standstill. We put so much into that process, and we were so very close to completing the deal. But it wouldn't happen no matter how we tried to make it work.

After that crushing ordeal, we couldn't even look at another boat for a year.  

We questioned our path, even our dreams, and focused instead on our rental projects. We hoped that the answer would present itself, for if we were not meant to have a sailboat, then what?

Fast forward to Sunday, February 12, 2017, and I have the flu. The bad one, where doing anything other than staring at the ceiling is too exhausting and mentally straining. 

Having a momentary reprieve from the ceiling, I decided to get online and look at Craigslist for something-or-other; possibly paint for the ceiling.  I ended up at the Mexico Craigslist, at Puerto Vallarta, searching for sailboats.

Sailboat searching did not happen regularly, or at all really, in the past year. Why now?  

My normally racing and methodical, chronic, list making brain, was fairly absent at the moment, having given itself over to the misery of sick, combined with lemon-rum-water (for the throat!). 

I happened across of a picture of a 40ft sailboat that looked vaguely familiar, it was a tad odd looking. Turning the screen to Shay I asked if this boat looked familiar to her?

What happened next, still blows my mind. 

Shay reached into her little cubby, next to her bedside and pulled out a boat card, "Is it this one?" she asks.

I looked at her in disbelief and said, "I'll find out."

So I emailed the owners - not thinking about the boat as much as wondering if this was the same owners we had met 4 years ago. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

After an awesome charter with our friends in the Sea of Cortez, Shay and I were enjoying La Paz, Mexico for a few days. 

We spent the time boat shopping. There was a nice ketch for sale that neither of else felt anything towards. There was the daily walks on the docks of the La Paz marina. During one of these walks, at the very end of the dock, sat a cruising boat that looked slightly different. Shay knocked on the hull, and a head popped out and said hello. 

We had a very nice chat with the owners about their recent sail down from Vancouver, Canada and of course, about their boat. They gave us their boat card (it had a picture of Eileen May with their contact info and the address to their blog). 

The next day we flew home. 

Part-way home actually. Alaska Airlines cancelled our flight, but then put us up for 24 hours in an all-inclusive resort, on the beach, in Cabo San Lucas. I believe Shay was half drunk most of those 24 hours, plus the taxi ride back to the airport. 

We forgot all about Eileen May. 

Or at least I did. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

How that card managed to stay in Shay's cubby through selling our house and most of our belonging and moving into an RV is beyond me. There are no other boat cards hanging out in that cubby. There are only 4 items in there. I looked. 

After a nap, some ceiling staring time and more 'lemon water,' I checked my email, to find that yes, indeed it was the same boat/owners (what?!) and they had an offer on the boat, (sigh), but, and I quote, "...no monies have exchanged hands..."

Okay. Do we want to go down that path? Of hope, dreams and probable heart break?

Sure we do, it'll be fun - said the sick person who's brain is on hiatus. Besides, its more entertaining than staring at the ceiling! 

Within 24 hours we sent a contract with a full price offer. Twenty-four hours after that (Valentine's Day!), we had an accepted offer and flights booked to Puerto Vallarta to inspect the boat. By Thursday I was feeling much healthier and having my wits about me once again, began to wonder what just happened. 

I was ready to get back to my old self and wanted us to make a chart for all the lists we needed, in order to take this spontaneous, week-long inspection of a boat we met exactly 4 years ago - give or take a day, but I think it was the same day. The next day Shay woke up with the flu. 

So that's how it happened. We met Eileen May on Monday, February 27 and spent the next week going over the systems with the owner.  On April 1 we were official with the US Coast Guard. And next Saturday I am returning to Mexico to secure the transfer and boat. 

It's all happened so fast. Its felt as if we never really had a choice anyway. Like there was the gentle pressure of a hand on our shoulders, guiding us to this path. 

Who knows what will happen from here! Maybe I'll catch a cold and we'll adopt a puppy (just kidding Shay!). Crazy things can happen when your brain takes a leave of absence.

Next time we SAIL to Hawaii!

As we flew over the pacific ocean headed for Hawaii on a flight that took almost 6 hours, Shay and I talked about the 2-3 week journey it would take to make the same trip by way of sailboat. The vast blue of the sea looked equal parts paradise and intimidating from our tiny airplane window. 

Our honeymoon for 10 days in paradise was about to begin and all I could think about was sailing offshore. I imagined our sailing experiences; toasting a sunset from the cockpit, taking my shift in the wee hours of the night and listening to the wind thru the rigging, fishing for Mahi Mahi, being obsessed with weather forecasts, sail tweaking and the joy and struggles of creating our own world on our moving island in the Pacific, floating, soaring, flying… sailing along toward our first tropical destination.

The other side of the coin is of course the fears I have about the logistics, the weather, our preparedness. I know enough to know we have so much more to learn. 

So in order to add some excitement to a dreary winter and stave off our frustration about not owning said sailboat we recently attended US Sailing's Offshore Safety Seminar on Bainbridge Island. It was an exhausting and thought provoking weekend of seminars and hands on activities.

We had seminars and classes on COB (crew overboard) drills, sail repair, weather, navigation, keeping crew rested, safety aboard and so much more.

The overriding message however was about wearing life jackets. This was drilled into the participants in a variety of ways and by the end of the weekend we are firm believers in the necessity of a good fitting life jacket. We also got to play with flares, fire extinguishers, and as a finale, a jump into a life raft! 
Which was not as fun as it sounds. 

After donning all our foul weather gear and life jackets we jumped in the pool and wow! was that a shocker! I had no idea I was wearing my life jacket way too loose. Tightening it in the water was almost impossible and it kept riding up my face and trying to float away. Not a comfortable or comforting endeavor. Then with all our gear and inflated life jackets, 6 of us worked together to get into a life raft. It was physically challenging and I face planted into the 4 inches of water at the bottom of the raft on my graceful entry. Not my finest moment. 

After getting everybody aboard we sat around in our wet gear, in a wet raft, claustrophobic and cold. It DID bring home the message that a life raft is really the last place I would want to be!

Having experienced first hand these challenges in a controlled environment I have a greater appreciation for life safety gear and the demands of using this gear in frigid water during an emergency.

We also met many great people from US Sailing and from the Port Townsend area. My favorite speaker was Carol Hasse from Hasse Sails. She is such a wealth of information, combined with her humble, grounded demeanor it was a joy to spend time in her classroom. Shay enjoyed it so much she signed up for Carol's class this year on sail repair in Port Townsend.

While I have committed myself to learning more about weather and how to create a weather plan. I feel comfortable with my internet sources for sailing Puget Sound but I'd like to know how to create a weather plan without internet access and be better able to read the weather from the cockpit.

After we land in Kauai and during the endless wait to depart the airplane I pull up NOAA weather  on my iPad and read the forecast so I can begin to grasp what the local weather scenario is for Hawaii and for the next couple of days. 

This becomes a ritual very morning in Kauai. I pull up NOAA, watch the radar, familiarize myself with the particulars of Hawaii's weather pattern this time of year. This was also helpful in choosing our beach for the day as the northern and southern weather on the island differed substantially.  It was a fun way to start the day while drinking Kona coffee and watching the view of the ocean from our lanai. 

Our vacation in Hawaii was fabulous. We hiked and kayaked and laid in the sun, snorkeled and explored, and prepared local fish and fruit to eat. It was wonderful to be warm. To wake up and put on a swim suit, instead of 3 layers and a rain coat.

It really brought home the truth that our bodies do better in sun and warm temperatures, we feel energized and happy. I don't have to struggle to stay warm, my sinus's are clear and my body relaxes.

The pull of paradise; its weather and beauty is indeed strong. 

On the flight home we drift in our own thoughts. Watching the islands recede, I feel sad to return to rainy Pacific Northwest but excited to begin the next phase in our journey. 

We turn to each other and whisper, "Next time we visit Hawaii it will be on our sailboat."

Fingers crossed. 

RV Rules

We've passed the one year mark living in our 5th wheel, and coming up on another damp, cold winter. Thinking about suffering this has me reflecting about trailer life and if this drastic change in lifestyle has made me a better sailor. (In my mind, all experiences become an opportunity to be a better sailor.)

If I have to suffer thru a Washington winter, living in the woods, in an RV, with arthritis, it has to be for a GREAT reason. Otherwise, it just seems like pointless suffering in an RV.
But suffering for sailing is constructive.

Following that intelligent train of thought, I've been considering the following.

I have decided that living in a small environment is about negotiating space.

Space for our belongings, for our bodies, to do life's activities, such as bills, fixing the furnace, sewing, putting on clothes, finding a place to put the dirty ones - everything needs space. Especially my tall body with very long arms and legs. 

Our first "RV Rule" came about while I was getting dressed. Shay tried to squeeze and duck past while I have one leg in my pants while I try to hop out of the way,  holding my balance against the bed. Usually I need to take up most of the bedroom and bathroom floor space for dressing. (This might sounds decadent but in reality consists of about 2 sq. feet.) There is only one place I can stand that allows for adequate dressing unless I want to use the shower. So now Shay is not allowed to move, not thru, or into the bedroom, while I am dressing.

Hence, RV rule #1 - Stay where you are while someone if performing a task that requires additional space such as dressing, cooking, putting away laundry, or cleaning.

Of course, this relates to living on a sailboat too.  A sailboat often requires a one-legged Heron yoga pose in order to do most activities aboard. The "dance" that we do on a sailboat, you move right and I slide left is a learned thing.
This summer when we chartered a sailboat for our 1st anniversary in the San Juan Islands we had the chance to practice our new dance skills. It was very natural to negotiate the 32ft boat for the week. In fact, we didn't even use half the boat, it almost seemed too big! A small confirmation that our bodies were adjusting to smaller spaces.

But realizing how much space and organization all our belongings require was a big lesson. Unorganized stuff takes up much more space than the same stuff all tidy in it's place. This might sound obvious, but living with all your belongings in 200 sq. feet doesn't leave much air between you and your stuff. You then realize just how little you really need to live. But more importantly, you figure out that if you can't find something you are looking for, or can't get to that something because there are 5 something else's in the way, that the hidden something won't get used. Ever.
And following the RV 'Decree of Hidden Things', they will then get moldy and die, or explode, or disintegrate.

In the 14 months that we've been living in an RV we've lost quite a bit to the learning curve, including one can of exploding pineapple, a six-pack of rusted ginger ale that leaked and created mold throughout the cabinet, pounds of expensive, organic food that were left exposed to mold, (we invest in ziplock bags now),  everything made from wicker (it molds), supplements without silicone packs inside, 5 surge protectors, and some cotton clothes that were in the back of the closet.

After an expensive trip to The Container Store we have organized every cabinet and drawer for ventilation and so we can find exactly what we need. Which came in handy when Shay broke the toilet.

One day while I was getting dressed in my special spot, Shay was courteously sitting still in the "powder room." I hear a flush, and a SNAP, and a quiet exclamation of, "shit."

After finding the broken pin, we realize the valve post had sheared off. I sauntered straight to the spare parts cabinet, pulled out a replacement valve, and handed it to Shay with a smug, "Here ya go."

She looked at me and my proud moment, and then handed it back saying, "Well, fix it then. I can use the toilet at work. Bye. "

So I fixed the toilet. Once I gathered all the tools. Which took longer to find, than actually fixing the toilet. 

That is a successful trailer day. 

While fixing the toilet, I had romantic visions of a sump pump breaking on the sailboat in the middle of nowhere, and how I would quickly pull out the spare parts I had so smartly stocked, and fix the sump pump mid-passage! I was honing SAILING skills, baby, by fixing the RV toilet!

The more frustrating days for me are when the living area is full of miscellaneous crap. Sewing projects take the entire dining table-slash-secretary-slash-only-table in the RV, plus half the love seat. This leaves half a love seat for 2 people to use, and other than the bed and toilet, there is not another spot to sit. After a week of this frustration and looking at uncompleted sewing projects strung everywhere, my bribing skills became sharpened. I remind Shay that if we were sailing, the sewing machine would not be sitting out, as it would become a dangerous, skull-crushing projectile that would smash anything in it's way.
"Please, can we complete a project or put the project away till next weekend?," I beg, "I can't do the bills, there's no room on the dining table." (Not really true as I already managed to do them on one half of the love seat.) 

This whine, repeated daily, eventually resulted in rule #27; All projects must be cleaned up within a few days of initiation so the ONE table can remain open for table activities, such as eating.
Which typically means TWO trips to the storage unit. Sewing machines and large tools do not fit in a 31' RV if you want to have any clothes, or even a chair. So the storage unit becomes our garage.

Well, the truth is that our cars become the garage, and the storage unit a small attic. At any given time the cars are (temporarily, or permanently), storing the tools from the last project, laundry supplies (you thought there was room for a washer and dryer?), grocery bags, recycling, the full compost bin ready to be emptied, cardboard boxes, and the returns to Home Depot from the latest appliance project. 

To keep the RV clean and organized, large items and miscellaneous are stored in the car, until we can get to the storage unit. Which means that Shay can't see anything in the rear view mirror most of the time.
I know many live-aboards with cars that live the same way, because I've seen their cars! It makes me feel better knowing Car Storage is a boat thing too. 

Speaking of projects, it seems the life expectancy of RV appliances is 1 year.  Within the past 2 months the furnace decided to stop working, the refer doesn't work on propane mode, there's a leak in the back RV slide that's creating a puddle in our carpet under the dining table, and the toilet broke, twice. Also, two outlets don't work and the thermostat died. 

So we bought a cheap thermostat from Home Depot and rigged it to bypass the control unit in the air conditioner, in the ceiling above the kitchen/living room, until we install a new control unit. It hangs from live wires, supported by duck tape, in trailer trash fashion, high enough that Shay needs a step stool to change the thermostat.
But at least it's not on the table.
I don't need a step stool, but evidently I need a night light.
About 3am, the other night, I was attempting to find the hanging thermostat in the dark but my toe found the step stool first. Now I have a broken toe. Not sure if this is due to old age, klutziness or a stool in the middle of the living room, so I'll save judgment till my ego is recovered. 

It's all about negotiating space. Moving things from storage unit to trailer to car to storage unit and finally, when we tire of the game, to Craigslist. Learning how to navigate small space while living with someone. How to negotiate with each other our priorities, hopefully without arguing about it.

After over a year, I think we've learned a lot about living small. How to do the "dance" that is moving by each other in tight spaces.  How to really organize stuff, and definitely how to learn to live with less than I ever thought possible. Less room in the refrigerator, less shoes, more patience, more compromise, more learning to make do. 

Looking back at our decision to live in an RV, hoping it would help us adjust to living on a sailboat, I think it has. It's been a challenging learning curve to go from living in a house with 1600 sq. ft, a basement, attic and garage to less than 200 sq. feet and a storage unit 2 miles away.

I can't imagine having moved straight from our home to a 38ft sailboat and surviving each other and a Washington winter.
We remind ourselves weekly that we are learning to live in tight quarters, that our footprint is smaller. We are learning how to fix appliances quickly and make do without them. We are readying ourselves to live on a sailboat. I tell myself that I am learning spacial negotiating, organizing and repair skills. I will be a better sailor for the suffering.

However, we don't get to sail our trailer. 

Which begs the question of how sane we really are. But who said sailors were sane?

Our first anniversary sail was a trial, to say the least, but we had a few minutes to enjoy the islands.

It's a sad sailboat story...

Yesterday we were excited to view a sailboat for sale in Everett. We had been in touch with the owner for a few weeks via email, text and phone. An older gentlemen from Chelan, (let's call him Jimmie,) who clearly was in love with his Rafiki, Bucket List.
We had to practically twist his arm to actually show us the boat. He loved talking about her and telling us how awesome she was; he was a great salesman.
He waxed on about the new Andersen winches, new sails, Brian Toss rigging, new galley, new running rigging, new cockpit enclosure, new electrical and plumbing. It went on and on and on, to the tune of a supposed $140,000 worth of upgrades.

Jimmie shared with us his dream of sailing her down to San Francisco under the Golden Gate bridge and anchoring off Ghiradelli Square. Since heart trouble a few years back his family has been pressuring him to stay on land and sell his beloved Bucket List.
He spent as much time sharing his dreams as telling us about the boat. We weren't sure he really wanted to sell. But he agreed to meet even though she wasn't "finished" yet. We assured him we could look past the grime of a PNW winter, or a refit, as quality always shines through.

So on Sunday morning at 10am we met Jimmie, in Everett, at a local coffee shop, to meet and talk about Bucket List. Somewhere in the conversation
Shay asked a pivotal question, "how long have you had the boat?"
Four years.
"From who?"
A woman in Kirkland.

Bells and whistles started clanging and screeching, the stars aligned and Shay realized that we knew this boat.
Four years ago we almost bought this boat.
This was Julie's boat. And almost ours.

It wasn't until we were in the car, following Jimmie to the boatyard that Shay mentioned this to me.
I was stunned. I was overcome with emotion and tears streamed out, my heart sank and I felt slightly nauseous. I quickly pulled myself together and joined Shay and Jimmie in the yard.
Standing in the pouring rain, looking up at the dirty, barnacle encrusted hull, it all came flooding back.

The famous semi-annual Fisheries Marine swap meet in spring of 2010 at 6am we were looking at some barely used, Henry Lloyd foul weather gear and struck up a conversation with Julie, a vendor, in the parking lot of Fisheries. She was selling high-end bits and pieces of gear and had a cardboard sign hanging around her neck that read, " Sailboat for Sale, Rafki, 1976."

We asked her about the Rafiki and before long we had exchanged emails and she promised to send photos. It all sounded so perfect... so destined.
And a great reason to get up at 4:30am and drive 90 minutes in the dark to Ballard, to look at marine parts.

Later that weekend we started a relationship that consumed the next month of our lives.
Julie was recently separated from a well-known naval architect who had bled her bank account dry by buying every bit of high end sailboat gear on the market. All this gear was either in her garage, on the boat or in her storage unit. Being a non-sailor gal she had no idea what to do with it all.

The sailboat was in the beginning stages of a full refit. Not sailable; as the rigging was not complete, the interior was not complete, nor electrical, plumbing, deck gear, etc. It was all in the garage, or the storage unit, and she needed to recoup some of her lost capital, by selling the boat and gear, while literally removing these memories from her life.
The sailboat represented betrayal and embarrassment, and the boat was her answer to recouping the funds that were sugar mamma'd out of her savings.

I offerred to help Julie inventory her equipment so she could better estimate it's worth. We were interested in the possibility of purchasing the Rafiki, but we couldn't tell at that time what we were even buying. It worked to both our benefits to move forward together and catalog everything.

I made spreadsheets of all the equipment: spools of line, clutches, jam cleats, winches, plumbing, ground tackle, much of it in new boxes.
We took a day and drove to her storage unit and inventoried that 8 x 10 space. She shared her heartbreaking story of loss and she told me all she wanted was to be rid of the boat (which was without even a name at the moment,) and move on with her life.
I took pictures of each item, attached it to my spreadsheet and later looked up anything online that we couldn't figure out. It took a huge amount of time and energy, but you had to see this boat to understand the draw it had. We also felt for Julie in her time of crisis, and felt obliged to help a sister in need.

The boat, this Rafiki, she was a beautiful thing. She gleamed.
Even tho she was floating in the slip looking more like a beamy powerboat at the time, she glowed.
Everything was shiny and crisp. We were taken under her spell. High gloss everywhere, as if she was just born from the boatyard, launched for the first time.

Shay and I met with a shipwright. We talked about what it would take to put her back together. Her asking price was already at the top of our budget. But this situation, this boat, seem handed to us from the gods.

For weeks we talked to marine contractors, agonized over the spreadsheets, looked at our savings accounts and detailed out the project lists. It would take us probably a year to get her sailing, mostly since we couldn't afford to hire out everything. We could hire out the electrical, some of the rigging and tanks, and do the remaining projects ourselves. It would be long and hard, but she would be practically new when we finished.

We couldn't do it.
The project list was too long. The unknown expenses too risky for us at the time. We were worried she would sit in her slip, or the yard, and languish. Having an 80 year old home and two rental properties ate up our summer weekends. When would we sail? Would we end up like so many other project boats we saw in the boatyards, unattended and un-sailed, a dream gone mossy?

With heavy hearts we told Julie our news.
She was understandably disappointed. And so were we.
I gave Julie the spreadsheets, all the pictures, wrote ads for her to put online to sell the Rafiki and she game us a couple very nice fishing poles. We hugged and went our separate ways.

Flash forward 4 years. Yes, we've been looking for a boat for 4 years. (Well, 3 of those at least.)

The Rafiki is now called, "Bucket List," and owned by Jimmie.
He bought her and got her sailing. Put on the winches, the rigging, some plumbing and basic galley.
Took her a couple sounds up north a few times but mostly let her sit.
Her gloss was gone, her lines were covered in green slime, the varnish had peeled, the beautiful cabin sole was gouged and lackluster. She was older now.
The promise we saw of an elegantly clad, graceful maiden of the sea had not come to fruition.
When we entered the salon all we could see was hanging wire ties from unfinished electrical work, wood work that was sawed and holed, peanut shells littering every floor space and general unseaman-like work.
For a second we considered starting over. Taking out all the shoddy electrical and funky plumbing, the fuel tank in the hanging lazarette (?) and redoing it all. Was this our second chance? Our destiny?

But our hearts weren't in it. All we felt was sad. She did not feel like our home. We were not in love with her.

And Jimmie was.

We sat in the salon while Jimmie told stories of his love, of his dreams and the pressures of his family to sell the Rafiki. We knew she was not ours, but his. He said as much too. If we didn't buy it he would sail south.

When we left we both sat numb and quiet in the car. What just happened?
What lesson are we supposed to be learning? What is the Universe trying to tell us?

Was it a missed opportunity 4 years ago? Why did she come back into our life? We've been looking so long now that we are looking at the same boats with different owners and names? (sigh)

After talking it over, we still trust our decision of 4 years ago. She was too much of a project for us at that time. It was a year later that Shay needed spine surgery and we spent almost the purchase price of the Rafiki traveling to England for Shay's surgery.
She would have languished, both of them, as there was 16 months that would have been impossible for Shay to sail.

We're still not sure what type of lesson this sad experience holds for us. To take more risks maybe?
To trust ourselves since we have seen first hand that four years later that beautiful Rafiki is still not ready to go off-shore?

Or maybe it's just a simple lesson in how much attention any sailboat needs to be kept in good condition.

Maybe we should be looking at steel boats, they have no teak. I hear there is one for sale in Seattle.

Who are we?

Shay and Yona met on San Juan Island in 2000. Our second date was on a sailboat that Shay shared with a friend. We almost ran into an island on that sail, and Yona was very close to abandoning ship, but at the last second we pulled thru and made it back to the marina, where we ran into the dock instead.

Despite this we continue together, learning to sail and love and live together on our boat Holoholo and our 21' trailer.
In August 2013 we finally got married! On a sailboat of course - a 80ft Schooner - the Spike Africa with family and friends.

Our dream of cruising the world has been a jagged path. Buying a boat, losing a boat, buying another boat, becoming full time Nomads. Now we spend half the year traveling the USA in our little trailer. 

If you'd like to follow my YOUTUBE adventures you can here.  

Yona is the techie, nerdy (but meditative) one who loves to write and dreams of having a Star Trek like navigation station on her sailboat. She fixes things, does most plumbing, electrical and mechanical (can you say Diesel engine installation?) and anything that requires taking something apart, also navigation, research, and her superpower is being able to diagnose broken lawn mowers. 

Shay jumped out of the rat race for an early retirement so she could focus on drinking Cerveza's in Mexico, collecting rocks and sailing hard over, water rising over the toe rail. She does most all projects to near perfection, loves tools and nature, and longs for a queen size sleeping berth. Her superpower is her Sagitarian ability to be cheerful in all situations.

We both love to travel, adventure and immerse ourselves in nature. This wouldn't work without our third companion. Earth. And all the beauty, diversity and wildness she shows us everyday. 

We are eternally grateful fo the opportunity have and share our adventures!

Change & Letting Go & the Freya Cutter

The Freya Cutter turned out to be very interesting. The owner sailed quite a bit and really had a mind towards safety in his rig. I apprecited the little extra’s like the permenant boom brake that had a line leading back to the cockpit. Shay however, didn’t like her. The layout did have a couple issues but I could have lived with it I think. Neither of us were excited about her in the end, and to tell the truth I forgot about her a few hours later. 

After returning home I sold the last piece of furniture from our house.

When it came time to let go, I had a surprising reaction. A wave of saddness washed over me and I wanted to lay myself across the credenza and hug the old thing. It inhabited the front entrance to our house and was used for dish and silver storage; flowers were placed on it during the summer time; pictures of our family were spread across the surface. 

Reflecting on this strong reaction to a piece of furniture, I realized how emotional challenging selling our house, moving from our small town, and not being surrounded by all the stuff fthat makes up a house has been. (There is no room in a trailer, even for pictures or artwork!)

It’s amazing how being surrounded by all your “stuff” creates a feeling of safety and security. I know this is an illusion, a lamp can’t create security. A credenza doesn’t make  me feel safe. I know I project this onto my home and my belongings, but remembering this during stressful times when life feels out of control, is fairly challenging for me.

One of the reasons we both have been attracted to Buddhist philosphy is non-attachment to stuff. Neither one of us is typically attached to belongings, as we discovered on our trip to England. While we were gone for a month we missed absolutely nothing from home, nor our home even. We only missed Mowgli and our friends. 

We certainly enjoy any belongings we have, but we don’t need them, feel defined by them or care what others think of them. We enjoy function. We appreciate beauty but prefer the beauty of nature: the view of Mt. Rainier in the morning, the magic blue color of the sea at dusk. These joys are far more valuble than a couch.

However the past couple months of transition has been very difficult emotionally. What I find that I miss is our art; paintings, pictures, pictures of family and special items. And of course our house, our yard, living in Enumclaw, laundry room and garage also. We can’t be gypsy’s while living in Enucmlaw and forced to do yard work and house projects every weekend! 

It’s werid having so many confilicting emotions over the change. Happy that we are moving forward and out from under that physical drain of owning an old home. Life is easier now, no lawn, garden, house to clean. It takes less than 30 minutes to clean and organize the entire trailer! Our weekends are now free to play and shop for sailboats, be lazy and visit friends.  I look forward to the summer when we can spend our free time sailing and sailing and sailing!

I knew this transition would be hard, but it’s difficult to know exactly how it would effect us, and in what ways. Like learning how to live half out of your car since the trailer is too small to store everything. Shopping every 3 days due to a tiny fridgerator, using a small shower with small hot water tank, small closets, small, small, small.

I think this is a good transition to living on a boat. Getting used to dealing with small and with all the tanks and systems aboard. These are good things ultimately and just an inconvienence right now until we become adjusted.

Still, I am sad at the loss of a lifestyle. We will never again own a home in Enumclaw, close to our good friends, where I know everyone in town by first name, from the pharmacist, to the grocery clerks and bank tellers. 

Our life is not so sheltered now, it feels more insecure, transitory. Which is what we need to learn to love: gypsyness. To love the freedom of a simple life, being a rebel to this excessive consumer based society. To choose purposely to live for a passion, to rely on oneself for happiness, find what is at the center of one’s self and life when distractions and attachments are stripped away.

This has become a spiritual lesson. Who am I, who are we without a house? Without our stuff? How will we handle this transition? Will it ever feel safe and secure like our old way of life did? Instead, will something else arise that is infinitely better?

This path is leading us down a life-changing adventure and I only need to care for today, this moment, the next step. Learning to let go of control or the illusion that I have control, and trusting the universe, is a lesson I’m sure will take a lifetime to achieve. For now I will attempt to surrender to not being in control, mourn the loss of a lifestyle, welcome my new home and way of life, and wait to see what spring brings. 

The wood horse year and the Seattle boat show

There is fabulous energy going into this new year and it's the perfect year for healing and transformation. I found a wonderful article that sheds light on all the benefits of the coming year, which I'll place at the bottom of this post. 

The past two weeks have been the most intense transformative and healing weeks of my life! It's been hard work but most days I am up for the challenge. I'm also doing a detox/cleanse for the next 2 months, so I'm committed myself to this healing process. I'm excited to see where I'll be in April!

For the first time in over a year I've been able to walk longer since my pain level has decreased. This has allowed us to thoroughly enjoy the Seattle boat show. We even went both weekends!

View from the deck of a 26 Million dollar power boat, looking at seattle.

We had a great time and met a number of wonderful women in the boating community. It started a couple weeks ago, when we decided to enlist some help with our boat search. Not with a broker as we have been down that road a few times. This time we contacted a well known marine surveyor, Lynne Reister. It was awesome to meet her and we are hopeful she can help us find our boat! There are a few on the horizon and we'll let you know how it pans out. 

We also met Linda Lewis and some of the women from the NWMB (Northwest Women's Boating) group. I know Linda will be a great resource for us. We plan on attending a class she's giving on radar this spring. She does private instruction also and Shay's made hints that a docking lesson on our new boat might be in order. Her seminars were great as she was full of great ideas for couples handling a boat and how to better communication aboard. I especially enjoyed her ideas on docking and line handling. 

Shay also attended the women's day at the boat show and met Carol Hasse and Nancy Erley and listened to some great talks about sail plan options and off shore sailing. 

There were some great deals on gear and we did succumb to purchasing new life jackets with built in harnesses. Later, we were talking to some women from NWMB at their knot tying booth about life jackets. One of them shared a story about when her life jacket inflated in a MOB practice and the pressure from the impact bruised her boobs quite severly. She cautioned us that for training or testing purposes not to tighten the jacket too much! Food for thought for all you women sailors. 

We found some great product to look into also.

H2Out is a renewable dehumidifier that you stick anywhere. Drawers, closets, anywhere. I really liked the idea, but the prices at the boat show were steep so I think I'll buy some online and give them a try in our trailer since we have plenty of need right now.

The other product was an interior liner for boats. It looks like wood slats but was just plastic. I imagine you could paint it or stain it. It was in the V-berth and really finished out the space. There's a picture below if anyone knows the name of the product let me know!

It's been a really fun time for both of us and it feels like we are finally enjoying the benefits of living a simple life. One of which is TIME!

We have whole weekends to have fun, relax and enjoy life. This is a new practice for us as its been years since we had this opportunity.

We're hoping this translates to lots of time on the water very soon!

Wood Horse Year Info

http://westernschooloffengshui.com/2014/01/2014woodhorse/