How to...

Hammock Break!

I've been trying to come up with a helpful metaphor for our trip.

It's not just like a move, though we are sorting and packing and leaving our house.

It's not like getting an advanced degree, though there are hints of the same kind of deep learning and sense of accomplishment I see in my friends who choose that route in mid-life.

It's not a permanent downsize, since we're coming back. But we do have to drastically reduce the amount of stuff we will be living with while on the boat and that process naturally prompts other purging. We know we're going to wonder about some of our choices as it is. (If we knew which ones, we would have made different ones!)

Maybe it's more like parenting, in the way that it upends all aspects of our lives and is a journey no one can take for us. Though many cruisers uproot even more completely and travel for years, we only plan to be gone for a year. But still, there's not a lot in our lives that will remain unaffected. We are reconsidering communications and wardrobe, sleeping arrangements and laundry, shopping and income and cooking and worship and banking and entertainment and plumbing.

We've followed several other people on the same journey through their writing, both in books and online. Some friends have recommended that we write a how-to book, though I feel like anything but an expert. Just like parenting, there are already a good number of books with vast amounts of wisdom and advice on this topic. And we have learned so much from the cruising community. But also like parenting, reading the books (and the internet forums...and the magazine articles) doesn't get the job done.

We still have to work through our own set of difficulties and find solutions to our own problems. That's true about it all, right? We have to live our own lives. This year, we have to figure out which methods, gear, etc will work for our boat and our family on our route. And then, we still have to do the work. After all the gear choices are made, we have to install it. We have to choose to pack or donate or trash everything. And when we move out, it will be our arms carrying the boxes. And when we say goodbye, no how-to manual will be absorbent enough.

Unmade Bed

I'm sitting on my bed as I write. It's the most comfortable piece of furniture I own. We've signed a lease and are only a few busy weeks away from moving out so I'm getting a bit nostalgic. People ask me if I'm going to miss my piano and I'm sure I will. But I may miss reading, relaxing, and sleeping (sleeping, people! This is a family blog.) in my square bed even more. At my writer's group last week, we were given the suggestion to write about an unmade bed and what emerged highlights some of the many differences between living in a house vs. living on a boat.

I don't have a good photo of our bed. Maybe this old picture of Meira huddled on the locker just aft of my pillow will give you a sense of the space.

He looks so weary tonight. I dip into my energy reserves and summon every last bit of my generosity and offer to make the bed. We're on the boat, so it's not as easy as it sounds.
Our bed is in the bow; only the anchor is forward of our feet. The sharp prow made for cutting through waves is not well-engineered for sleep. Our heads rest on either side of a chasm. It's called a V-berth for a reason. If you open the door of the head all the way, this tiny space converts into a dressing room, the only place to change your clothes in private.

We say goodnight across this gap, "The Grand Canyon," I call it. Or some nights "The Great Divide." Our bodies hug the walls, the changeable sea lapping or slapping just on the other side. The foot of the bed is the only meeting place and I often wake to a tangle of socks and ankles. The ceiling is low (don't try to sit up in the night or you will find out just how low!) and morning dew condenses on the glossy paint, converting our bed into a temperate rain forest. Our breath turns liquid and falls back on us at dawn.

Getting in and out is a pas de deux, a Cirque du Soleil audition for 2. I trace an arc with my legs, over his hands, past his face, horizontal until the last moment, then tip down, reaching to find the cold floor with my toes without whacking my head on the hatch above. The girls are still asleep in their quarterberths, heads and arms shooting out of the tube-like bunks like half-launched torpedoes. I start a kettle for coffee and tea, open the curtains on another picturesque anchorage and begin another morning afloat.

No one keeps score on who made the coffee yesterday or who volunteers to straighten the covers at night, turning them carefully on point, intentionally kitty-corner so they don't bunch up in the pointy end, tucking the excess back and piling the layers so we'll stay warm through the night.

We wouldn't last a week if it was about fairness.

The Big Trip: FAQs

At the dock at Hot Springs Cove

Many of our friends and family have wondered about our plans for a year-long trip on our sailboat. I've tried to answer many of the frequently asked questions. If I missed yours, leave me a comment!

When?

Weather patterns govern our departure. We have to leave the NW coast before the autumn gales hit toward the end of September but can't cross into Mexico until the hurricane season ends at the beginning of November. So there's no reason to leave until the beginning of September. That said, we will be at the mercy of the weather for the entire trip, so all schedules are flexible. We plan to be back in the summer of 2014, likely July or August.

Where?

Again, weather rules. Winds and currents in the North Pacific travel clockwise so we'll be heading south along the west coast. Over the last few years of boat travel, we've learned to be very flexible with our destinations. Strict timelines and destinations encourage stupid decisions. They say, "Schedules kill sailors." We have several sailing-specific guide books and will be making many destination decisions as we travel. So, while we're heading south, and plan to spend time in Mexico and several other Central American countries, we don't have a set itinerary. If you have any recommendations, though, we're happy to hear. Just remember that once we hit land, we'll mostly be traveling on foot!

Heading to town in Port Townsend, WA

Why?

If you really want to know why, you'll have to come help us pack the house and let us talk your ear off. The simple answer is that we want to spend a year with each other, exploring our amazing world and experiencing different cultures. Sailing is not the fastest or easiest way to travel, but we find the challenge and simplicity very satisfying. We don't expect this to be a relaxing vacation, though there will be relaxing moments. We do expect to learn a lot along the way—about ourselves and our world.

Bacchante Bay, the end of a fjord on the west coast of Vancouver Island

How?
We've been thinking about and working toward this trip for almost 15 years. We will be leaving our jobs (though Bryan may be able to go back to work at his company when we return), selling my car (the only vehicle worth selling), and renting our house (know anyone who needs a rental?) We have been blessed enough to put a little savings aside and would rather travel very (very) cheaply for a year than more extravagantly for a few weeks. Sailing can be a rich man's sport, but can also be done very simply. We hope to err on the simple side with a few creature comforts.

We often break out games and hot drinks on chilly evenings

Creature Comforts:

Our sailboat, LiLo, is a 1964 32-foot Islander. It is comparable to a 20-foot RV with a cockpit and an aft (the back end) storage locker. It's 10 feet across at the widest part but narrows toward each end (especially the bow—the pointy part) and underfoot. Though small, with less than 200 square feet of indoor living space, our boat has almost all the comforts of home.

We have places to sleep, spots to sit while reading or eating, and lots of nooks and crannies for storage. We also have plenty of outdoor space and exploring a new piece of shoreline every few days keeps us from getting cabin fever. Our 11-foot nesting dinghy, Splitpea, acts as our car for carrying us to shore from our anchorage. We will use it to cart groceries, laundry, water, and fuel for our stove and our auxiliary engine (useful for maneuvering into marinas).

Splitpea nested and tucked away on the cabin top for a long passage

Ed. Note: Meira deserves full credit for landing on the perfect name for the little green, 2-piece dinghy we built together a few years ago. LiLo is the original name for our sailboat and it seemed rude to change it after all these years. We like the Hawaiian meaning, “Generous One."

The galley has a small sink, an icebox, and a 3-burner propane stove with oven (as well as a small grill on the back deck). We have a toilet but no shower (don't freak out; people all over the world get clean without showers). We can do laundry on shore or by hand on the boat.

Look closely for evidence of the mundane in the midst of grandeur.

We will have occasional internet access and are still exploring the available phone options.

Snagging wi-fi from a B.C. coffee shop after hours. We bought plenty of their coffee, don't worry!

We have a solar panel (more to come) to charge the main batteries and provide power for LED lighting, radio/GPS, stereo, laptop, video/photo equipment, and our electric toothbrushes:-) We will take plenty of food with us, but people everywhere have to eat and we are looking forward to trying some new foods along the way.

New friends passed along extra salmon from the day's catch

Safety:

Driving on a freeway isn't safe. Sitting in a cubicle all day isn't safe. Life isn't safe. That said, we have done our best to consider how to keep ourselves well while we travel. We have (and wear!) lifejackets and harnesses. We have lifelines and safety netting. We have an EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon), several radios and multiple GPS units as well as celestial navigation equipment. We have multiple spare parts for our equipment and a substantial medical kit.
Guns? Many countries confiscate guns upon entry and don't return them until you leave. Given that we will be leaving from a different port we enter, that would be problematic. Also, in the unlikely event of an attack, we would be much more likely to have our gun used against us than have the skill and presence of mind to use it for defense.

What about pirates? We read the piracy reports. Though random attacks can occur anywhere in the world, including here at home, we don't plan to travel in the areas with pirate activity.

Meira calls herself the "high-maintenance" girl and tackles small repairs up the mast

Bryan takes care of the tedious repairs

On the go:

We've been homeschooling the girls since preschool and feel confident that this year will offer plenty more opportunities for learning. The girls will be 7^th and 8^th grade during our year away and we think this is a great age for a grand adventure. Hannah and Meira have a knack for finding interesting museums and asking great questions. We hope to learn a lot about the history and culture of the places that we go.

The Intrepid Explorer of Watta Creek

The majority of our time will be spent near shore but while out at sea, we stand watches around the clock. Cooking, navigating, and standing watch take up much of our time. We have 2 options for automatic steering, one electrical and one mechanical, but safety still requires a dedicated watch-person (possibly with an assistant) to pay attention to other traffic, navigation aids, and the radio as well as log our progress on the chart.

Hannah is well prepared for chart work

We all enjoy reading and I am hoping to do quite a bit of writing while we travel. Bryan is hoping to take lots of pictures and edit many hours of video footage into an accessible amount. The girls are infinitely creative and I expect much writing and many craft projects will clutter up the place before we return.

We won't have room for my baby grand piano or Hannah's guitar, but we have a few smaller wind instruments we like to have aboard. I'm hoping to run across a decently-tuned piano or two on the journey and would love to meet musicians in other countries. We look forward to learning more Spanish and attending church in towns along the way. We can't wait to experience the wonders of the wild world in a new way and expect to cherish most of all the unforgettable people we meet along the way.

Safe at anchor in Effingham Bay

Climbing a Hill Together

On the top of Mt. Galiano, Galiano Island, B.C.

I've always yearned to live in community, to do the hard work of learning to love another person, stinky feet, messy house and all. Originally, the plan was for some sort of compound where others with similar ideals (like-minded, but not too like) would co-exists in perfect balance. After I got married, it still seemed possible. If everyone was as conflict-averse as we were it would work out just fine.
But then the girls came along. Two more people did not double the interactions; community is an exponential experience. Now I am content to work for kindness in a smaller community.

We were making hearts with our shadows, see?

It had been cold down on the water but as we got away from the edge, the sun quickly drove us to shed what layers we could. We stashed our coats behind a tree and made a blaze in the path so we could find them later. About halfway up the mountain we realized we hadn't brought nearly enough water but we rationed carefully and made it to the top in good spirits. The view was spectacular, looking out over the islands, a life-sized relief map of the navigational charts I had studied on the trip up. I could see the current flowing through the tight passes, the power all the stronger for the nearness.
The girls ran ahead on the way down, scaring us a little. We took separate trails to the bottom to make sure we didn't miss them but they had found the right path. "Just running a marathon," they said. The walk back down--that's the thing about climbing a mountain on an island, you have to start at sea level--was long and hot, but ended with ice cream and a cheerful row back to the boat. Any way you measure it, that was the highest point on our journey, so the next morning we turned south and began the work of returning, the power between us all the stronger for the nearness.

The Ring

A little story from last month's writers' group.

He knew she'd always wanted a ring. She wasn't a necklace kind of girl, a which-one-to-wear-today girlfriend. She wanted something for everyday wear. It was winter, the land at rest, so he couldn't just walk next door and offer Mike his strong arms. Couldn't just spend a week in the hot sun stacking bales of green energy seven high. "There's always work in the shop," Dad had said, but for him, the shop manufactured tedium and he dreaded the monotony. 

She was worth it though, and a week or two later found him in the little jewelry shop in town, awkwardly craning to see the underside of all the little white price tags in the case on the end. He finally settled on a simple band of rubies. Nothing flashy or juvenile. He hoped she'd like it.

The night of the party, he hid the box in the glove compartment, hid his nerves behind a young man's kiss. She was smiling, fragrant, glowing. More sparkle than he could handle. He closed her car door and slid behind the driver's seat, wondering if he'd made the right choice. How could something so brilliant be content with his solid simplicity? How would he hold up to everyday wear?

The Contest

Just for fun...


She'd read about the contest in the newspaper and, yes, now that she thought about it she had noticed more strangers around lately. But everyone knows no one ever really wins these sorts of things. She's always been pretty sure the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes is fake, the shocked winners and plastic host just hired for the occasion.

And yet. There's no denying what's in the hole at her feet.

She hadn't read the clues or followed the webcasts. Not for her the fan forums filled with treasurehunter1967 and strike_it_rich09 commenting at all hours about lat and long and what the latest revelation could mean.
She'd just come out to the desert to bury Snookums, the last of his litter (turns out it doesn't matter how often you brush a dog's teeth if he won't stay out of traffic) and now here she is, looking down at a dead dog and a box of gold.

Alaska friends

I'm still reveling in memories of the last few weeks when we had the joy of hosting some friends we knew in Alaska. We hadn't seen Ryan since we moved away but at the end of June, he flew into Seattle, snagged Natasha (who lives there now) and caught a train down for a visit. My goal for their time here was to give them a glimpse of our lives in Oregon and to catch up on 10 years of stories. It's a good thing I didn't include "being well-rested" to that list, because somehow in a week and a half of visit, we managed to smash in a trip to the Columbia River Gorge, one to the beach, a day at the Aviation Museum, 4 days of sailing, a day enjoying Portland, church, 2 orthodontist appointments, a trip to the library, 3 hikes and lots and lots of good food. 

They met much of our family and many of our friends, and, despite the full schedule, we spent many hours just enjoying each other's company and remembering why we were friends in the first place. None of us had been particularly nervous about how we would relate, but it was delightful to slip back into old friendships with the same feelings of connection and affection we had 10 years ago. Of course, the girls are so much bigger now (Ryan had never even met Meira) and it was wonderful to see them interact with Ryan and Natasha with so much ease and joy. We all agree that 10 years is way too long to let pass before we see each other again! 

Feel free to skip ahead and just look at pictures if you want (necessary credit: they're all from Ryan's camera). I don't expect you to care nearly as much as I do about the minutiae of our time together, but if you have a few minutes, grab a cup of tea (with milk and sugar, British style) and read on.

The first day of the trip, Beth, (a mutual AK friend who lives in Portland now) was having a birthday party, so as soon as we picked Ryan and Natasha up from the train station, we drove up into the West Hills to see her. It seemed strange to see so many Alaska friends together in Portland, but it was great to see Beth and meet her new son.

Sunday, the girls and I helped lead worship in church, and then we spent the afternoon out at our CSA farm. Our farmers have recently added a significant amount of land to their property and it was fun to get a tour and hear their plans for the future.

Monday's weather predicted evening showers so we headed east to the Gorge in hopes of avoiding them. Our plan worked, and we spent the day hiking a 5.5 mi. loop from Multnomah Falls to Wahkeena Falls. Natasha was kind enough to hike at my pace (read: very slowly, with frequent breaks to ward of the peripheral warbling of an asthma-induced migraine) and Ryan took the girls ahead at his pace (read: very quickly with frequent stops for log/rock jumping and creek wading).

He and Hannah had been very close when he last saw her (at 16 months old) and it was fun to see the way they reconnected. He later said he had wondered a bit if they would want anything to do with him and we all laughed--that was not a problem!

On our way home, we stopped by Crown Point for some picture-taking and hand-rail acrobatics.

Tuesday, we'd expected rain, so despite the sunshine we got, we spent the day at the Evergreen Aviation Museum. Bryan's company has passes for 8, so we snagged Jenny and the kids and took them along too. The last time I was there, the Space portion of the museum wasn't open yet; it was fun to explore all the new exhibits. And we ended the day with a picnic at Chad and Jenny's, Bryan's cousins who live across Lafayette. Again, it was a joy to include Ryan and Natasha in a typical evening activity and to see people from our separate communities interact.

By Wednesday, Tuesday's rain was supposed to have passed through. But Tuesday's rain had held off, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see rain clouds on our way to the beach. The forecast said "scattered showers" though, so we pushed ahead with our plans for a hike at Cascade Head. Soon the showers turned to steady rain with the occasional downpour and we resigned ourselves to a wet, muddy hike. Hannah and Ryan went on ahead and were rewarded by the sighting of a herd of elk in the mist.

Meira and Natasha and I made it to the lower viewpoint ( a misnomer on a day so misty we couldn't even see the surf below) and turned back to slog through the puddles back to the parking lot. Anyone who has ever spent a wet day at the beach can imagine our scramble for dry clothes and hot drinks, but the promise of a trip to the Tillamook Cheese Factory kept our spirits up. We watched the factory workers and the cheese parade, bought some fudge for Bryan (who stayed behind for that pesky job-thing) and headed home.

Thursday, we spent the morning getting the girls ready for cousin camp. Earlier in the spring, my parents had reserved the 4th of July weekend for my younger brother's daughters and our girls to get together. They had a full weekend planned, a trip to Tacoma's glass museum, Silver Creek Falls, and on the 4th, the Canby General Days celebration. 

We met Bryan at the Nike campus (where he's currently working) for lunch and a quick tour, then swung by the orthodontist's office before dropping the girls off in Canby and stopping to see my mother-in-law.

Are you ready for a break?

 Me too! But we had a weekend aboard planned; check back soon for sailing stories!