I had been thinking about a way out. Even after tossing around the idea for a while, neither of us would commit.
Finally it was the candle party I hosted that became the catalyst, and put us in motion to pursue our dreams.
It was the kind of candle party a woman feels obligated to attend, because the host had gone to her party. The problem is, once you begin the hosting circuit, it turns into a reciprocating suffocating cycle of cooking and lingerie parties that eventually evolve into innocently organized money gift-giving parties.
Only a good friend would pay $25 for a two-inch forest-scented candle when they could get a generic pine-scented candle for a buck at the drug store. When you reach this point of throwing money away, the reality of a Ponzi scheme eventually comes next, under the guise of women who are re-circulating $500 amongst themselves. When I finally came to my senses and said no, I was admonished for not participating.
My husband and I started to seriously question what we were we working for. Looking at our car payment, cable package, high mortgage, new clothes, and a lifestyle that focused on the material goods we acquired, was no longer satisfying to us. We wanted something more, like a real challenge and yet it was more than having a challenge. It was also understanding our mortality because our life experiences taught us how fragile humanity really is. We have no guarantee of walking this earth tomorrow.
So we sold our house to live on a boat. It seems like a simple act but it took us over a year to do it. We paid down our credit card debt by cutting back on our small luxuries of HBO, DSL internet package, avoided buying cell phones, and dined out less, basically becoming socially inept by our peers’ standards. The signs were evident that we were on a course for change. Once we left the house, it caused a bit of commotion among our family, friends and some casual observers.
Why would you want to live on a boat? was the question we were frequently asked. My husband was vague with his answers because he didn’t want to go into any specifics, but I would say proudly, “Because we want to sail the world!” At that moment there would be a puzzled look on the questioner’s face, and a response of, “What?”
Before we could leave on our sailboat, we had to save money for cruising. That meant living on our boat for a couple of years. This allowed us to get to know our vessel. She was a big boat for us. So we had to learn how to sail her, especially me.
The following pages (in Sailing The Waterhouse-Swapping Surf for Turf) reveal the odd challenges we faced with this new dock-dwelling lifestyle. But the many peculiar experiences we encountered as Live-Aboards—people who live on boats full-time in a marina—helped prepare us for our adventure.
Eventually we had a proper bon voyage party and left the Strait of Juan de Fuca with our wanderlust dreams for a pleasure-seeking life. Unfortunately those dreams were tested with unexpected foul weather off the West Coast, also known as the Graveyard of the Pacific.
Sailing The Waterhouse-Swapping Surf for Turf: Read about Kelly & Kelly Girl’s challenges of transitioning from a land-based life to living on a vessel for two years in order to save their money for a world bound voyage. When it was time to cut their dock line, people thought they were a bit reckless since they never sailed beyond the site of land.