We live all year around on our SY Pitufa and only occasionally leave her to fly out to our native country that has long ceased to feel like home—after twelve years as cruisers, home is wherever our boat is floating. Many of our friends are seasonal cruisers. Some say that this way they get to experience the best of both worlds, but others give up after some years as maintenance for the boat as well as a home ashore has ground them down.
Going cruising full time is a drastic step: Storing away precious, personal belongings, getting rid of the rest, renting out the apartment/house, selling car and bikes, quitting contracts and insurances, saying good-byes to friends and family—I remember this period of our lives as both exciting while at the same time somewhat sad and scary. I couldn’t wait to explore all these places that were waiting beyond the horizon and to experience magical adventures with my partner, but I was also worried how we would cope with living in a tiny home and dealing with all kinds of challenges from nasty weather to faulty equipment and medical issues while in foreign countries with unknown facilities and a language we might not speak.
In comparison it must feel way less dramatic and life-changing to just prepare home and garden like when going on vacation, have a last check-up at dentist and dermatologist, lock the car in the garage and leave with a “see you later”. Then half a year of sailing adventures, sports and activities, meeting new people followed by the next few months back in a cozy home, catching up with friends and family and enjoying culture and city life. Sounds perfect?
Well I suppose it would be, if it wasn’t for the cost of leaving a boat in a marina or on the hard while flying out, the cost of keeping an empty home and the cost (and effort) of traveling between them. And of course maintenance. Boats demand constant love and attention, engine and outboard don’t enjoy being idle and have to be prepared accordingly—and even then it’s not certain whether they will readily come back to life after a few months of hibernation. A watermaker needs to be “pickled” in chemicals (which isn’t helpful for its durability) and the toilet(s) need to be put to rest as well with all parts rinsed and greased. But these are just the obvious candidates. On top of that come at least a dozen little seals and joints and pumps are just awaiting their chance to fail when not used constantly: after we had left our Pitufa for just five weeks, the faucet in the kitchen spurted water when I first turned it on again—an o-ring that we had never even suspected to have a vital function made its importance apparent by causing a geyser.
The rest of the boat had the opposite problem: too much humidity. Despite wiping all surfaces with vinegar and washing all upholstery beforehand, we still had mold growing when we returned after just a short time. I can only imagine how much more thorough the preparation must be if you plan to leave the boat for half a year. Food containers could attract rats and cockroaches, so everything perishable must go before leaving the boat and the rest needs to be locked up securely. Of course you know where you’ve put all the gear—until you return after a whole season of new impressions and freshly made memories that got piled on top of where you’ve hidden the safety latch for the outboard. Our friends left their boat in a cyclone pit, planned to get back after half a year which turned into more than a year—despite having written lists of all their storage lockers they still kept finding stuff in unexpected places (and had forgotten how to use some of it).
The apartment or house ashore doesn’t lie dormant like sleeping beauty only waiting to be kissed awake either. A house is incomparably bigger and has much more equipment that needs maintenance, especially if it comes with a garden. Good old friends have just reluctantly put up their beloved boat for sale: “It felt like we were working for months to get the boat into shipshape, then we could go sailing for a brief time, just before having to prepare her to leave again, only to return to a neglected house and property and dive into months of work.”
Things are different of course if money is of no importance and a professional cleaning/maintenance crew can look after the boat half a year and the housekeeper and a professional gardener put in an effort to keep the property from turning into a jungle or a desert (depending on the climate you live in). Another option would be to have a very frugal lifestyle in both worlds to avoid all things that might fail. Or the perfect solution could be to share the boat with another couple who uses it during the time you’re not there (until they set it on a reef, but hey, that might never happen). I guess it’s just a matter of finding the lifestyle that suits you best, be flexible and don’t have too high expectations—no solution’s perfect, but they are all better than just sitting at home and not daring to live the dream!
