Chapter 1
“We need three bedrooms, because we have three kids. And one or two bathrooms. We also do not have a big budget and want to buy the smallest one we can all fit in. Just in case everyone hates this.”
The broker looked at me with a gentle smile as my flip-flops met his leather Sperry’s.
“I think you will like her, let’s go.”
We walked down the docks passing boats of various sizes, shapes and mostly white colors. It was happening. My husband was turning into a captain, and I into a homeschooling stay-at-home mom, on a boat. The kids could care less, they did not believe we would end up living on a boat anyway.
We reached a skinny, white boat, which looked about the same as all the other skinny white boats at the marina. The broker slipped out of his leather Sperry’s and hopped aboard quickly and quietly. You must practice to be a boat broker. If you climb a boat huffing and puffing, or tripping, you will never sell anything.
Joe and I took off our flip flops and jumped aboard as well. I made sure my climb was at least one and a half times better than the sales pitch, I can be a boat broker. Easily.
“She has had just two owners, I know her pedigree quite well. She has great bones, can tack beautifully and is very responsive.”
Nevermind, I cannot.
Joe followed the guy with his flashlight, peeking into various corners, opening lids, cabinets, pushing on the floor here and there. They completely lost me at engines, so I decided to conduct my own tour of what I knew best – indoor space and proper distribution of sleeping bodies.
There was a bedroom in the front of the boat, with the bed taking up the entire space. A tiny closet, the size of a carry-on was a bit to the side. Two skinny shelves beside the bed and a small cabinet right at the front – that was it. Oh, and a fishing pole taking up one of the two walls.
“Joe, which way do you sleep on this bed – head up towards the front, or backwards?”
“You can sleep whichever way you want.”
“The fishing pole has to go.”
The Sperry’s man laughed. I wanted to think he was entertained by my HGTV attitude towards his she-treasure.
“There are two more cabins with three berths, for your three kids. Both aft, to port and starboard.”
“I can never get used to these boat terms. I think I might call them bedrooms forever.”
Another laugh. Less genuine.
The back side of the boat had two bedrooms. One was larger, with its own toilet. So, the toilet would be right next to your head?! It was sandwiched between the rest of the boat and the cabin. To enter that cabin, you would have to walk through the bathroom. Same as the previous bedroom – the bed took up the entire room, with a small shelf to one side.
The third cabin was just on the other side, with the staircase and the engine separating the two. Two skinny bunks took up the entire space in that room. No closets, no shelves, no cabinets. That should work.
I was wrong.
The middle section of the boat was my favorite. Every piece of furniture would either unfold to double the size, open for storage, or both. It felt like being in a small lego home – move the blocks here and there to create a different space. I loved it.
Shelves lined the beautiful wooden walls. The entire inside was wood, shiny, warm and cozy.
“I love this. Joe, we can fit two more kids in this space alone, if we end up having more. Then they will never whine about living on a boat, because they would not know any different.”
“It’s definitely a nice space.” Joe agreed, but he was a bit more quiet than me. He usually is.
I had a feeling he was being quieter on purpose, lest he should say something non-boaty in front of our boaty broker.
No worries, I did all the non-boaty talking, giving the guy plenty of joke material for Happy Hour.
“I can definitely see myself cooking in this space. And we have a gas stove, I love cooking with gas. Is it dangerous…Oh, look, the stove moves!”
“Haha, yes, it does, to rebalance itself when the boat heels.”
I let that one slide and pretended I know exactly what he is talking about.
The Sperry’s man laughed. I want to think he was entertained by my HGTV attitude towards his she-treasure.
“There are two more cabins with three berths, for your three kids. Both aft, to port and starboard.”
“I can never get used to these boat terms. I think I might call them bedrooms forever.”
Another laugh. Less genuine.
The back side of the boat had two bedrooms. One was larger, with its own toilet. So, the toilet would be right next to your head?! It was sandwiched between the rest of the boat and the cabin. To enter that cabin, you would have to walk through the bathroom. Same as the previous bedroom – the bed took up the entire room, with a small shelf to one side.
The third cabin was just on the other side, with the staircase and the engine separating the two. Two skinny bunks took up the entire space in that room. No closets, no shelves, no cabinets. That should work.
I was wrong.
The middle section of the boat was my favorite. Every piece of furniture would either unfold to double the size, open for storage, or both. It felt like being in a small lego home – move the blocks here and there to create a different space. I loved it.
Shelves lined the beautiful wooden walls. The entire inside was wood, shiny, warm and cozy.
“I love this. Joe, we can fit two more kids in this space alone, if we end up having more. Then they will never whine about living on a boat, because they would not know any different.”
“It’s definitely a nice space.” Joe agreed, but he was a bit more quiet than me. He usually is.
I had a feeling he was being quieter on purpose, lest he should say something non-boaty in front of our boaty broker.
No worries, I did all the non-boaty talking, giving the guy plenty of joke material for Happy Hour.
“I can definitely see myself cooking in this space. And we have a gas stove, I love cooking with gas. Is it dangerous…Oh, look, the stove moves!”
“Haha, yes, it does, to rebalance itself when the boat heels.”
I let that one slide and pretended I know exactly what he is talking about.
“Double sink, and the sink covers create additional counter space, how cool. Oh, and a hole for a fridge – just like on your grandparents’ boat, right, Joe?”
“Yep.”
“His grandparents had a custom-built boat, which they used to sail around the islands. That is how Joe learned to sail. I sailed it a couple of times when we were younger, it was fun. We are not totally new to sailing.”
That was a partial lie.
I think I probably held two ropes during my entire sailing experience on their boat. And the second time was when I was also pregnant and seasick, and spent the entire fun trip sitting on the side thinking non-nauseous thoughts.
Joe, however, did have great memories exploring tropical islands with grandma and grandpa. It must have left a deep mark drawing him back to the deep blue years later.
“Oh, nice. What kind of a boat was it?”
“Joe will tell you all about it, I have no clue.”
Back to touring – the second bathroom was next to our future bedroom, again, sandwiched between the rest of the boat and our cabin, but with its own door, a tiny sink, a cabinet and a mirror. All wooden inside.
“Is there a shower anywhere?”
“Oh, yes, the faucet pulls out and serves as a shower head.”
“That would really ruin all the wood in here.” Joe did not like that shower idea.
Showers never happened aboard.
A couple of photos of boats hung on the only two clear walls of the boat. They were both of that same boat out sailing. One had a beautiful sunset in front of the boat, the other had a bunch of guys sitting on the side, as the boat was leaning through white-capped waves.
If you ever buy a monohull, focus on that photo! The sunsets are misleading. Noone tells you to NOT pay attention to that. Because sailing a monohull means living at an angle, along with all of your falling belongings.
There was also a small desk, called a navigation desk, next to all the electronics and radio. I repurposed it into a homeschooling section in my grand homeschooling plan, in my head. There it remained.
“Let me show you the cockpit and the outside.”
We climbed up the tiny ladder, separating the two back bedrooms and covering the engine. And exited back into the tiny cockpit. Too skinny benches and a large steering wheel were in the cockpit.
“Oh, I wish it had a table in here, so we could just eat outside.”
“There is a folding table. Which you can attach, if you wish. It is in one of the cabins. This boat is very well-built for speed and maneuverability. That does eat up the space a bit.”
“Ah, I kind of like the big-butt boats, don’t you, Joe?”
I caught him by surprise there. He was such an open book by this point, it felt amusing.
“Big-butt boat” was a term I came up with, for all the monohulls, which had a wider back side, and could thus accommodate a table in the cockpit and a swim platform by the water.
The tour continued with lots of everyday questions, mixed in with some technical characteristics. While Joe was very handy and knew his way around plumbing, electrical and all kinds of other systems, we drew heavily from our land life. We had never owned a boat before.
It was a leap of faith into the dark. Not terribly well researched, somewhat planned. It is how we did things in our family. Some worked out.
We both liked the boat and were imagining our new life aboard with the kids. The boat broker mentioned how well the boat would race, but I had no intention of racing anywhere, so we sort of interrupted his speech.
As any boat broker, his only goal was to sell and collect commission. He was pleasant and pleasantly annoyed by my many questions and comments full of incorrect boating terminology.
In my defense, he was not wearing socks.