Sunday on the Bay: Life Aboard

Grand Anse, Martinique

FRENCH WEST INDIES -- For the last three years I have lived a double life. For part of the year I’m a normal American living in an old house with a long list of repairs. I work at a mundane job, pursue a college education and try to find time for the few hobbies that I like to do. The other part of the year, I live on a boat anchored off an island that's owned by another country. I helped deliver the boat there and sailed thousands of miles across open water to do it.

When I tell people of my various excursions, they tend to view it as a vacation, but it is actually a way of life that many people follow. Life aboard can be just as routine or frustrating as land life, but it possesses a uniqueness that I personally fell in love with. Living on a boat can be trying, and it isn’t for everyone. I thought I would give some insight as to what it is actually like. This article is a typical Sunday from my other life – and I miss it.

I wake up to the sound of rain in the middle of the night. I don’t hesitate, just jump out of bed instantly and proceed to shut all the hatches. Water could damage the varnish and cause mold (among other things). I do this methodically -- I’m used to it by now. An hour later, I wake up again. I’m sweating from lack of air circulation, so I get up and open the hatches. Sometime later I wake up to the pitter-patter of rain drops again -- this process goes on all night.

Boutique -- a Union Island boat boy

In the morning, it’s the usual. The first person who gets up starts the coffee. It’s usually not me. The Captain, Mark, is often the first to rise and I wait until I hear him leave the head before getting up. I proceed to the galley after I’m done brushing my teeth and wash the dishes from the night before. We had fresh mahi-mahi that a boat boy caught and then sold us. I prepared it with a Creole sauce -- a recipe I ”picked up“ in Dominica.  We rinse the dishes in salt water after we eat dinner and in the morning I wash them in fresh water using a foot pump. I love using the foot pump -- I can use both hands and control the water with my feet.

 ”People should really have these in their houses,“ I think.

Mark is just finishing his coffee and getting out his scuba gear. He’s going over the side to scrub the bottom of the boat. He wears a wetsuit because last time he was underwater for over an hour, he caught a mild case of hypothermia and was freezing with chills the entire afternoon.  Another crewmember and I had to wrap him with blankets and give him cup after cup of hot tea. We were in the tropics in March! He claims to be slightly cold-blooded and says his body temperature is one degree lower than normal. He would never survive in a cold climate.

Anchorage in Bequia

I tidy up while he’s in the water, put away the dishes, and clear every surface of any item that might catch air in the event of us heeling over. We are planning on heading down island today and nothing can be left out. I put away the dishes and scan the area one last time, not much to scan -- we are sailing on an old 42-foot Swan. It’s been four months since I hopped aboard.

Mark comes out of the water and says he really doesn’t feel up to moving.

”Let’s go tomorrow,“ he says, ”today we’ll have a lazy Sunday. It is Sunday after all, right?“

I tell him that I agree, we have enough to eat. The only thing we are lacking is alcohol, which is a slight travesty.

”Maybe we can buy some from a boat boy,“ I think to myself.

He takes a nap and I make lunch, leftovers from the day before yesterday. On a boat, you tend to save and use every parcel, there’s not room or enough supplies to waste anything.

Sunset in Gustavia, Saint Barths

After lunch, we have a navigation lesson. Mark wants me to be able to take control in case something happens to him, for instance, he falls overboard or gets knocked out or injured in some way. I agree that it’s important to be able to do everything on a boat.  Anything can happen while you’re at sea. I know because I’m reading The Perfect Storm, which I’m not sure is the best idea before going out into open water.

When the lesson is over I say I’m going to take a shower.

”Why don’t you just go swimming?“ Mark says.

He doesn’t seem to notice that I went that route yesterday. I’m still salty and my hair is like straw.  

”I need to wash my hair! I haven’t shaved in a week!“

He just rolls his eyes. Being a girl is tough on a boat like this. I could really use a water-maker! I can hear him protesting in the other room when I’m soaping up. Even though I use leave in conditioner, so I only rinse once and shave without running the water, he is complaining that the water pump is running too much. When I Ôm finished, I shammy the entire head, it’s an onboard rule.

Our dinghy on the beach in BVI

At four o’clock we listen to the weather. It’s going to be another beautiful day tomorrow. I do the dishes from lunch -- it seems there are always dishes to be done. I clean the boat a bit before having our ”sun downer“ and watching the sunset. After dark, I’ll make dinner again and do dishes again. We’ll watch a movie -- we’ve seen them all about three times each, but there is not much else to do. We got them from a friend who wanted them out of his sight, he’d watched them so many times.

Tomorrow we’ll move, I’m going to chart the course this time, and we’ll have a busy day of sailing. Monday will be more productive than today was. Tomorrow is Monday, right?