Sea Legs

Compared to the average American (or 'Merican as they say in Texas), we live pretty simply. Everything we own can just about fit into a normal sized closet. Even with our lack of the typical 'Merican's stuff, it took us a handful of days to move out of our home on wheels and back into our floating home. A handful of days to move seems like an awful long time to move all of our junk from one tiny space to another, but in the process, we had to strategically pack that junk so it doesn't go flying across the boat in rough seas, we had to get the RV put away in storage, and we had to run some needed errands while we were in the big city. We stocked up on food and supplies since there isn't a grocery store or a marine parts store on every corner up in the islands, we had to scoot all over town to replace our spare parts that we used up last summer, we picked up some doo-dads to make some needed improvements on the boat, and we did our best to visit with family and friends. It was a busy handful of days.

Now that we've moved into our sailboat, it's official, we are back on the high seas. We were pleasantly surprised that after 9 months away, the diesel engine fired up instantly, the electronics turned on at the touch of a button, and we even remembered how to drive the old girl to our first anchorage of the summer.

Night one was spent at Spencer Spit on Lopez Island in the San Juan's. We got there just before the sun went down, dropped the hook, and then looked at each other in bewilderment because for some reason, our sailboat didn't seem like home anymore.

When we moved off of the boat 9 months ago to head out on our big road trip, we felt out of sorts to be leaving our home behind. We had lived aboard our sailboat for years which made the RV feel more like a hotel than our home. It had been so long since we had been land lubbers that we didn't exactly know what to think about land based travel. We didn't know if we would like it or even how long we would be able to put up with it. We knew that there were quite a few things we wanted to see, but other than that, we thought that we would be itching to get back home to the boat.

After a few months of being in the RV and traveling around the States, all of the sudden it started to feel like home. We could be in a National Park, out in the boonies, or a Walmart parking lot. It didn't matter where we parked for the night, because once we went inside and shut the doors, we were home. We thought of the boat less and less until one day, we didn't think of it at all. In January, we had to make a stop in Seattle to take care of a couple of things so I made a trip up to Anacortes to check on the boat and make sure she was OK. It turned out that she didn't miss us either. She was sitting on blocks in the yard just as we left her. She didn't even care that I came to say hello. It was like a slap in the face from an ex-girlfriend who was doing just fine without me. Bummer.

We had made a plan to be on the boat this summer so we could do some more exploring up the Inside Passage because, first of all, last summer was super fun so why not see more of it, and secondly, there is no place better than the Northwest in the summer. We were excited to get back to the boat and even more excited to get under way but we didn't expect the feeling of sadness that we had when we left our home on wheels behind. The RV had taken us through some incredible country and on some great adventures in the last 9 months so it was hard to say good-bye. The road tripping lifestyle turned out to be a lot more fun than either of us expected.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not at all saying that we are going to give up on sailing around the world and that we are going to be full time RV'ers. That's not the case. We just thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and when you have as much fun as we did over the last 9 months, it's hard not to get misty eyed at the thought of leaving that lifestyle behind.

Now that we are back on the boat, we need to get back into sailing and boat working shape. We are a little rusty when it comes to running the boat and we are even more rusty with working on the boat. Last summer, I was in pretty good boat working shape. I could crawl under the floor boards, contort into an ungodly position, and replace or fix a non-working doo-dad in record time. Now I look under the floor boards and think “Holy crap! How am I supposed to get in there if I need to fix something?!?!”

It turns out that our floating home did miss us after all because there are lots of little things that seem to need attention. We found a couple of window leaks that sprung up while we were gone, the outboard motor for the dinghy has no desire to run, and then there is the “List” of needed upgrades that we had written during last summer's adventure that is now staring us in the face. After a few days on the boat, giving attention is all that we have been able to do.

The other thing that we have done is acquired quite a few bumps and bruises because our sea legs aren't working yet. We aren't used to the constant motion that the boat throws our way and because of that we seem to be running into anything and everything. We have both heard at least 28 yells of “ouch!” coming from across the boat because one of us ran into something, kicked something else, or banged a body part on something that isn't supposed to banged by a body part.

But with each bump and bruise, and with each item in need of attention that get's fixed, we are feeling more at home. In a couple more days we will have enough items crossed off of our list to begin feeling like we are on vacation again. Because for the last few days, it has been feeling like we are back at work.  

Leaving Anacortes!!!  Aaaaaarrrrrrggg!!!  We're back on the high seas!

Into the San Juan's

Anchored in front of Spencer Spit