Thank you!

I would like to take a break from my usually scheduled programming (hectic stay-on-boat mom with little time to blog) and say THANK YOU. I am truly awed and humbled by the support you all have shown of our new business venture that we announced last week. From fellow bloggers sharing our post on their fan pages (thank you all SO MUCH, it has not gone unnoticed!), to family, friends and followers spreading the word on their personal pages - it's safe to say you all have given us, and our new business, a huge boost. My post got over 10K views by the evening and the Aristocat Charters Facebook Page went from 120 "likes" to over 900 in a single day! The inquiries and bookings are pouring in, so much so that it's hard to stay on top of them, but we'll get there and what a fantastic problem to have! And this is almost all thanks to YOU.

I have to be honest, I wasn't sure how you all would respond to our 'big news'. Sometimes people are resistant to change, new beginnings, and people shifting gears. You all have grown to know us a 'certain' way, and for us to morph into a new role, with a new story to tell could have been a hard pill to swallow for a certain type of person - but as you have always shown us before, you are truly the most wonderful, loyal, and supportive blog followers anyone could ever ask for and for that I thank you. I'm just...well...awed and grateful. You are a very powerful audience and you put your heart and strength in the right place.

So, thank you. Thank you a million times for following on this crazy journey of ours, for rolling with the punches and changing tacks with us when the wind shifts. From surprise babies to new businesses, you have stood by us every step of the way and I cannot tell you how much it means to me. THANK YOU.

Following dreams is awesome. Following dreams with the support of thousands the world over? Even more so. And fear not, the adventures will continue and now I have even MORE to write about (when I get the time that is!) so I'm definitely not hitting the pause button on blogging. Exciting things are on the horizon and there might just be a book in me yet (don't hold your breath though).

So much love to you all. Thank you, truly. 

xoxox
Brittany, Scott, Isla, Haven, Mira - and the whole team at Aristocat Charters

Cruising Perspectives: Fourteen 'Side Effects' of Living on a Boat

Note: I was invited to write this post back in June of 2013 (!?!?!) by the lovely Tammy of Things we Did Today for the great 'hive mind' site, The Monkey's Fist. I am only now getting back to it with the time to flush it out. Check out other blogger's takes on this great subject here.

Living on a boat: it doesn't take a genius to realize this is very different from living on land. There are a million ways in which the cruising and/or live-aboard lifestyle differs from that of a land-lubbing existence, too many to list in fact. Living on a boat is certainly no utopia, but it can be pretty great - and many of us find that we have strengths we never knew we had, hobbies we never knew we loved, and skills we didn't think we possessed. These are great perks of the lifestyle. Then, there are some other more unexpected things we get from the lifestyle, I call these: side effects.

Here are 14 "side effects" that I have experienced from five years of boat life:

1. Water usage: Sure, we have a high output water-maker and carry 120 gallons on our boat. But still, even that is a finite and limited supply and must be monitored so as not to run out. Remember that time I carried 60 gallons of water to refill our tanks? I have not forgotten it. Even on land we use water sparingly and letting a tap run for any extended length of time feels wrong. Letting it run while you don't need it, i.e while brushing teeth or in-between doing dishes? That's just criminal.

2. Storage Envy: Houses are full of pretty right angles and nice, square (or rectangular) storage spaces. THIS IS A LUXURY, PEOPLE. Boats have none of those things. We have oddly shaped 'cabinets' and 'cubbies' which make general storage annoying, difficult and - in some cases - impossible. We have gear stuffed so deeply in the rabbit-hole recesses of our boat I'm pretty sure we'll never see them again (in fact, we never did find that spare mast-head light in our last boat...). Gear is stored on a priority basis because you simply have no other choice - which means items used daily or regularly are semi-easy to get to, and things that you don't use daily or regularly require blood, sweat and sometimes tears to get to. All those years of playing Tetris paid off. Luckily, our Brewer has a ton of storage - but even still, it's a struggle to get to and when I see boats with nice, big closet-like spaces (cough-catamarans-cough), I get a little twitchy.

3. Everything is a Compromise: I just mentioned that our boat has a ton of storage, and it does. But guess what? It comes at the cost of living space. The sides of our boat are so chalk-full of cubbies and cabinets, that our living area is significantly more narrow to accommodate it. Boats who are smaller in size, can end up feeling much bigger than ours because of this. That is just one of a MILLION examples I could give you. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING on a boat is a compromise. You install a freezer, you become a slave to your generator. You spring for the wind generator, you get the noise. You re-configure for more galley storage, you loose your microwave. And on and on it goes. Be prepared. Nothing comes on or off the boat that doesn't have a price, both literally and figuratively.

4. Spacial Awareness: When you buy anything for your boat, the first things you will think about is, "Do we have room for this?" and secondly, "Where will this go?" because, at least on our boat, the golden rule is: A place for everything and everything in it's place. This comes very easy to me because I am by nature an incredibly OCD 'tidy' person, but for those of you who are less inclined to put things away, going sailing will be a messy ordeal because, NEWSFLASH: boats are prone to rocking side to side and items not stored properly can and will go flying. 

5. Power Struggles: When you are not concerned with space, you will be concerned with power. Amp hours are another limited commodity on a boat, and even though we have a nice array of solar panels and a decent sized battery bank, we still need to run our generator from time to time to keep up with our energy needs. Rare is the boat that has all their power requirements met by sun and wind day in and day out. Want to bring aboard that Vitamix blender that you love? First of all, see #4 (space) and second, better check out how much juice that thing will suck out of your batteries. Before you buy that system or appliance, you will (or should) be wondering "What does this draw?"

6. Hoarding: I realize this sort of contradicts #4 (space), but hear me out...Living on a boat where simple chores like grocery shopping can become one hell of an ordeal, not to mention the fact that certain places don't have certain things, mean that you try to stock up when and where you can. The Exumas in the Bahamas had grocery stores that looked like they came right out of socialist Russia and the grocery stores in the smaller islands of the windwards had cans on the shelves that were over ten years old! When you get somewhere with good bounty, you'll want to stock up. The same applies to boat parts/supplies. If we order a new "O" ring for our generator's heat exchanger, you better believe we're ordering an end cap, gasket, cover and capscrew as well, and two of each!

7. You Wait for the 'Other Shoe to Drop': I wish we could say we were in the types of cruisers that falls under the 'minimalist' category, but we are not. While Scott could probably swing that way, I like certain creature comforts. I love our water-maker. I love our generator. I love our engine. I love our cockpit speakers. I love our refrigerator. I love our AC (at the dock.) These things make our boat more comfortable and livable for us but, sadly, they come at a price (see #3 - compromise).  As much as we appreciate these systems, they are prone to breaking. They say a cruising boat is in good order if 80% of it's systems are running and truer words were never spoken. It is ALWAYS something. ALWAYS. From the mundane (polishing ever-rusting stainless) to the disastrous (a leaking fuel tank) you will never not have something to fix.  As the 'worrier' of our duo, I'm always looking ahead and wondering, "What's it gonna be next?" The windlass? The stereo? The main halyard? The autopilot? Scott always says, "We're always just one ring-ding away from disaster!" Sad, but true. Boats break. A lot.

8. Heightened senses: An odd vibration under foot, a faint waft of an unusual odor, a dull yet different sound emitting from the engine? All of these things will not only put you on high alert, but set you into action to figure out "why?" You will grow to know every creak and groan your boat makes, you will be unusually familiar with the 'normal' vibrations of your engine and you will know *immediately* if any of your pumps, from those in your bilge to those in your water maker, are acting up. On a boat ignoring these sounds, feelings and odors can be detrimental so you'll be hyper aware of it all. Fun fact: You'll also be able to predict wind speed within a knot or two based on the sounds it makes through your rig. 

9. Resourcefulness: The need to be 'resourceful' has been a bit atrophied in this day and age when we can pretty much have whatever we want or need in a matter of hours, but in the islands this is not the case. Sometimes (actually, a lot of times) we must improvise. Lack of facilities, under-stocked stores, and public holidays are all things that can wreak havoc on you getting that part, talking to that agent, or finishing a project. As such, you need to be resourceful and use what is on hand. Scott has become a veritable McGuyver as a result of living on a boat and his handiness is a mega asset.

10. Hitting the Road (on foot): We walk, a lot. It's so funny to me how little islanders walk or how they seem to judge distance. A very normal conversation will go like this: Us: "Excuse me, but could you point us in the direction of the grocery store?" Islander: "You're not walking, right? It's too far to walk!" Us: "How far, would you say?" Islander: "Oh, I don't know...a really long way." Us: "Okay, well, we like to walk - is is this way?" Islander: (Shaking head with a laugh) "Okay, yes - just up that road there..." And then we walk and it's, like, two miles away. But, yeah, when we're moving around on land we walk a lot to get from point A to point B.

11. Putting it all Out There: Underwear on the line, bras hanging from the the mast, food scraps in a bowl in the cockpit (ready to be tossed overboard later), and sometimes, donning nothing more than our birthday suits, cruisers are not a shy bunch. We tend to put it all out there because, well, we don't really have room to put it any place else. We shower off the back of our boats and sometimes greet our cruising buddies in our underwear. Every year of cruising trades few more social mores/graces for a little more 'heathen' I think.

12. Patience: I am not, by nature, a patient person. It is yet another of my less-than-desirable traits and perhaps the one that I do battle with most regularly as a cruiser because a) a sailboat is S L O W and b) "Island Time" is more real than you can ever possibly imagine. Whether it be having to wait two weeks for your simple package to clear customs (sorry, it arrived during Carnival!) or sailing into the wind and making almost zero VMG for twenty-four hours, living on a boat in the islands will test your patience daily. As a result, you will have no choice but to become more patient or drink a lot to take your mind of the frustration. 

13. Settling for Second Best: When you combine #7 (things break) and #9 (resourcefulness) you sometimes need to settle for a solution that is for sure second-best. Boats are constantly breaking down under the UV of the sun and the corrosion of the salt and unless you have a staff, you will not be able to stay on top of all the work and maintenance your boat needs, meaning you will get used to having certain things not working and/or not looking pretty. Our teak toe rails are a disaster. In fact, all teak on our boat - both inside and out - needs a good re-doing, but we just don't have the money or time right now. And that's okay.

14. Bi-Polar Tendencies: And finally - if you are anything like we are - living on the water will make you bi-polar. You will, at times,  have a love/hate relationship with: your boat, the ocean, the lifestyle, the islands and (most likely) your spouse. High highs and low lows across the board. We can't have it all, right?

Sorry I was so ridiculously late Tammy! Thanks for the great thought-provoking post idea!

The Optimist's Creed

It's go time over here. We head back to our boat in two weeks and, as such, the already frenetic pace of life has been kicked up a notch. While the overriding emotions surrounding our impeding move back to the boat and the islands are excitement and anticipation ("I wanna go back to my boat now, mama!" is Isla's latest and most persistent demand), I am not without reservation either. I have asked Scott, "Are we crazy??" at least once a day and as our departure date looms closer and closer, (thus becoming more and more real) the magnitude of it all is coming sharply into view.

Pre-departure nightmares have begun -- as they so often do on the cusp of big events -- when worries seep into our sleeping subconscious. The other night I awoke in a total panic after dreaming that we left for the boat forgetting all of our luggage and missing our plane right after sending Isla, alone, up into first class (I think this makes it clear who gets top billing in this family!) Every night I lay awake in bed with a million thoughts racing through my head, my mind ping-ponging between adding items to the packing list and general concerns about the uncertainty ahead: "Will we have enough room for five of us?" "Can't forget the scone mix..." "Will the babies sleep okay?" "Get more teething tablets..." "Will it be too hot for the twins?" "Must order new heat exchanger..." "Will we have the boat ready in time?" "Email the boat yard in the morning...." "Will the kids enjoy boat life?" "Stock up on sunscreen..." "Will *we* enjoy boat life with three under three?!"

So, yeah. There's a lot going on, and a lot of emotion going with it.

The other day I read a quote that helped ease my naturally busy (and slightly overwhelmed) mind:

"When you believe something is hard, the Universe demonstrates the difficulty. When you believe something is easy, the Universe demonstrates the ease." (Thank you Margret for sharing!)

I'm not delusional. There are going to be some big challenges ahead for us and there will inevitably be hiccups along the way, but *maybe just maybe* if our overriding belief is "success" then that is what we will find? Could it be that easy? (insert emoticon with squinty eyes and teeth)

I'm willing to give it a shot.

The other night my dad shared with me a quote he came across. It's called "The Optimist's Creed" and it preaches...well...optimism. If it wasn't so damn long I'd have it printed on a canvas and hang it on our boat so we can read it daily with the hopes of living more like it by osmosis. Unfortunately our wall space won't allow it so I'll just have to post it here on the blog and call it good.

"Promise yourself:

To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.

To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.

To think only of the best, to work only for the best, and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble."

- Christian Larson, 1912 Your Forces And How To Use Them

Baby On Board: Cruising with Kids and Dangerous Parenting

By now you have heard of the unfortunate events surrounding the rescue of Rebel Heart and her crew.  It has, quite literally, exploded into a media firestorm with just about every news source, local and international, covering it.  I have absolutely zero interest in recounting the story of my online friend and fellow boat-mama, Charlotte, nor do I feel like speculating on what went right or wrong but one thing I have noticed following this story is the fact that it has morphed from a "rescue at sea" saga into a pretty ferocious debate on parenting.

I have already vehemently defended our lifestyle on this blog before, and I have also learned that arguing with ignorant, closed minds is pointless.  But what I would like to say to the many people out there who are not closed-minded but simply uninformed, is to look before you leap onto this bandwagon of judgement and hatred because there is another side to this story...

Thousands of children live very happy, healthy lives on boats with their parents. For many years before the Kaufmans, and for many years to come, families with children (yes, even babies) have embarked on journeys across the worlds oceans without incident.  We don't hear these stories of course, because they are not what make headlines...No, instead we hear of those that fail, because those are the stories the masses want to hear.  Torre DeRoche, one of my favorite bloggers and author of the fantastic memoir, Love with a Chance of Drowning, said it best in her response to media frenzy:

All the people who never had the courage to live their dreams and do something meaningful and inspired with their lives are having a field day right now. Charlotte dared to do something amazing with her family, which evokes furious jealousy in those who are committed to living out fear-ridden and inane existences. But oh how delicious it feels to those types when the dreamers fall down. "See?" they say. "The easy and mediocre choices we made were the right ones". - Torre DeRoche

As someone who spent a significant amount of time living on a boat raising a baby, I feel compelled to show that boating with a child (or children) is not, despite what the masses may believe, inherently dangerous, selfish or irresponsible.  In fact, many of us who sail with our babies are incredibly capable, self-sufficient and mindful parents.  Before we embarked with Isla, Scott and I (having cruised as a couple for almost 2 years prior) had a very good idea of what to expect from a life at sea with a little one and we took what we saw as the necessary precautions:  we bought a boat that was easy to single-hand, we made the choice to stay "coastal" and "island hop", and invested in various safety measures (from life line netting to infant antibiotics) to ensure our baby would be safe.  Both of my pregnancies were boat pregnancies and we even cruised right up until the final trimester of my twin pregnancy.  Month after ballooning month passed without incident or complication but had something gone wrong with me or our babies during that time, no doubt I would have been blasted for my selfishness and carelessness instead of celebrated for being the adventuring mama I was.  I took calculated risks by staying on our boat in the islands during that time and I had luck on my side.  It's the type of gamble all of us as make on a daily basis whether we take our kids sailing or strap them into carseats.

I don't think too many people can argue with my belief that the most important thing we as parents can give our children - particularly from the ages of zero to three - is that of our time.  There's plenty of scientific data to back this up. We, along with the Kaufmans and all the other cruising families out there, found a lifestyle that gives this to our children in spades.  Furthermore, our kids spend almost all of their waking hours out in nature, and again - there are loads of scientific articles stating what a profoundly positive effect that has on a child's development. Living on a boat with a baby is certainly not for everyone, but can be an incredibly rewarding way to raise a child and there is no one who will persuade me otherwise. I have seen first hand the results. It's incredible and beautiful and amazing. Of course, it is not without challenges and risks, but raising children - be it on land or sea - is inherently demanding and risky.  I feel very lucky to have been able to live this way, and I know every other cruiser feels equally privileged.  We adventures stand united on this front, and as my friend Behan said so eloquently, "Irresponsible? Crazy? If that’s the bucket we get tossed in, well, I’m proud to be a member of the tribe that’s chosen to raise children differently."  Amen.

We all take risks every single day, whether we know it or not.  Bad things happen that are out of our control on land and at sea.  No one is immune.  We cruisers choose not to live in constant fear over what "could" happen and instead embrace life as an adventure to behold.  Fellow cruiser, freelance writer and boat mama, Diane Selkirk, wrote an excellent piece entitled Raising a Child Dangerously in an effort to restore a little balance to the reporting of the Rebel Heart saga.  Her words are powerful: "I’m not going to lie: Our lifestyle comes with risk. There are storms at sea, illnesses in remote locations, white-knuckle moments, and near misses... But to me, the potential payoff has always outweighed the risk."  The bottom line is this: we all do our best as parents with what we are given.  None of us are intentionally putting our children in harms way, though some of us might be more comfortable living outside the box than others.  But I ask you, who do you think is more at "risk": the solitary child sitting in front of the television eating fast food and playing video games all day or the child who is spending almost every waking hour with one or both parents, outside in nature, with the opportunity to live differently and see the world?

I know my answer.

Sail on, Rebel Heart, sail on.

To read more about our experience boating with a baby, please visit our page Baby on Board. 

If you are a Rebel Heart sympathizer and would like to help, please consider donating to the fundraising page that has been set up by friends.  Thank you.

Enjoy this short video compiled of images of hundreds of boat kids from all over the world put together by a fellow boat mom in support of Rebel Heart.  This is our tribe:

Send A Custom, Personalized Postcard with Lettr

A picture I took at Petit Tabac in the Tobago Cays.

What if you could take a selfie in front of the Taj Mahal and turn it into a postcard an hour later?  What if you could send that postcard from the comfort of your favorite wifi hotspot or internet cafe without ever having to go to a post office?  Furthermore, what if that postcard could be signed by you and arrive at the intended destination in about three days time?  Wouldn't that be awesome?  I can't tell you how many postcards I have sent from exotic locations that never met their intended recipient for one reason or another. Enter: Lettr.

We get a lot of emails from companies that want us to promote their stuff. I have said before that we are very selective about this, turning down probably 98% of these offers, regardless of financial gain. But every now and then a company or product graces my inbox and I think "now that is an awesome idea" and I get really excited to share it with you guys.  And if I get really excited about sharing something with you all, I know that I'm doing the right thing.

Such was the case when we were contacted by Lettr, an innovative postcard company that is making it their mission to bring more than bills and catalogues to the mailboxes of people all over the world.  No need for a pen, no need for paper -- just upload a photo, type a message and they'll take care of the rest.

I created and uploaded the photo above to test it out (and send myself a little bit of sunshine) and five days later*, this is what arrived in the mail:

Pretty neat, right?  The blurred out section at the bottom is actually a map with a pin on the location where the postcard was sent.  A nice little touch.  The postcard is just like any other postcard in size, stock and feel - but even better, because it's totally personal and a one of a kind.

The whole process to create the card took about 10 minutes, and that's only because I got creative.  Here's how it works:

STEP 1

First, I did a little photo editing to my image, adding a border and some text.  You don't have to get as creative as I did - you can simply upload a photo.  Or you can get really creative and add all sorts of bells and whistles using your favorite photo editor like Photoshop, Pixlemator, Lightroom ...etc (Lettr has no photo editing tools built-in, fyi). It's up to you.  When the image was ready, upload it to the site.

STEP 2

Next, write a nice note, virtually sign the postcard (not going to lie, that part is a little tricky with a mouse and cursor, but better than nothing!) and fill out the recipient's mailing address.

STEP 3

Pay $1.99 via PayPal or credit card, click "mail postcard" and your original postcard in on the way to brighten someones day!

Simple, easy and fun. A pretty good recipe if you ask me. There are so many ways you could use this service, whether you are a roving gypsy or a homebody; you could send an uplifting picture with a nice quote to someone who needs a pick me up, a photo kiss to a long-distance loved one, a funny picture to your grandkids, or just a nice scenic snapshot from your travels - the possibilities are really endless.

* The time took longer this week due to the high demand of Valentines Day.  Typical turn-around time is 3-4 days.

Full disclosure: I received a free postcard code to send one to myself to test out the product and service and we are affiliates of Lettr.

Hard Work vs. Working Hard

"Wow, that's going to be really hard."  These are words we hear a lot lately.  When I tell inquiring minds that we are expecting twins, this is what they say (among other things).  When I tell people that I plan to breastfeed said twins, this is their response (followed by, "It's okay to formula feed, you know.")  When I disclose that they are, in fact, two more girls and we already have an almost 2 year old big sis at home, they shake their heads and tell us, "Good luck," (punctuated by a conciliatory, "Rather you than me.") And when I tell people that, yes, we do plan to return to our boat and resume the life aquatic with all three of our girls in tow, they shoot me an incredulous look and exclaim, "That is going to be really hard."

As if we don't know that.

I understand where these comments are coming from and I don't begrudge the countless people who have uttered these words to us.  Heck, I'm sure I've even said them to someone before - many times in fact.  But after hearing this phrase ad nauseum and having lots of time to sit and ponder (what with the polar vortex and all) I have started to really think about what it means when people say this and why it always makes me a little uneasy.  And I have come to the conclusion that when people are telling us that XYZ is going to be "really hard work", what it feels like they are saying is: you should probably re-think that plan.

Lucky for me, I am the type of person who is fueled, and not dissuaded, by this sort of response.  When people tell me something can't be done, or something will be "really hard", the drive within me doesn't waver at all.  In fact, quite the opposite:  the more someone tells me I can't, the more I actually believe that I can.  I'm not sure if this is the result of my natural competitive drive or a side-effect of parents who made me believe I could do anything, but when someone puts a wall up in front of me, intentionally or not, I see it as nothing more than a challenge to overcome.  I guess I should thank all the skeptics because, let's face it, nothing is more pleasurable than doing something successfully after people say you can't.

The fact of the matter is that the last three years of our life has been anything but conventional and, truth be told, we are no strangers to people telling us that what we are doing is going to be "hard".  Almost every juncture of this journey has been met with skepticism.  Refit a boat?  Insanity.  Plan a wedding AND refit a boat?  Have fun.  Quit our jobs, take off on a boat without a real financial plan and just head south?  Nuts.  Sail out to the ocean without any prior ocean experience?  Better think twice.  Stay on the boat while pregnant?  Good luck with that.  Sell your boat in this market?  Impossible.  Raise a baby on a boat?  Preposterous.  Sail offshore with a toddler?  Stupid. Cruise while pregnant with twins?  Unthinkable.  You get the gist.  So, yeah, we're no strangers to this.  Every single step of the way we we have been told that what we were going to do was "really hard" (or crazy, or irresponsible, or insane...etc) and yet, we did it.  All of it.

What strikes me most though, is that this is a country that really values "hard work" but it seems as if most of the people who tell us that what we plan to do is going to be "hard work", are not putting value on our work at all (and, yes, all of the above took a tremendous amount of good, old fashioned "work").  It seems that they are trying to actually dissuade us from working hard to do what we want to do, which leads me to believe that all work is not created equal.

If you work hard to get a degree, score a high-paying job and/or buy a nice home - your work is praised and you are considered a good, productive member of society.  If, on the other hand, you work hard to follow your dreams, do something unconventional or attempt something that might seem extreme to others - the work is more often than not, undervalued.  Why is this?  I don't have the answer but it is interesting to think about.

It's a knee jerk reaction to say "wow, that'll be really hard" when someone tells you how they are going to do something that you might perceive as unnecessarily difficult, risky or maybe even impossible, but it's not helpful at all.  There's a difference between "keeping it real" and being subversive.  I write all the time that following dreams is not easy, that the cruising life is no walk in the park, that living on a boat full time is not for the faint of heart - but almost always, I frame it in a way that shows it can be done (and is very rewarding) but that, yes, it's going to take a little blood, sweat, and tears to get there.  There is a difference.

I propose that we all try to take a moment before we blindly tell someone that their choice is going to be "really hard work" (particularly if we have zero experience with whatever it is they are proposing) and, instead, respond with something along the lines of "Wow, I'll bet that will be hard work, but SO rewarding." Doesn't that sound so much nicer?  I think so.

I know that we're in for a major "about face" in our lives, I know that our future plans will have some growing pains and, believe me, I know that this next chapter in our lives will not be "easy" and might require some tweaking. We are not disillusioned (have I mentioned that I have read eighteen books on twin rearing?!) but we are up for the challenges, just like we always are. We have goals, we have plans and we are making choices to see those come to fruition.  We're not sure what the future holds, but we're going to steer this ship as best we can and change tacks if and when necessary.  We've got our work cut out for us and it's going to be hard work - but nothing worth doing is ever easy, right?

Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.

Gail Devers

Living Legends: Ten Questions for Cap'n Fatty Goodlander

If you are a sailor and are not familiar with the name "Cap'n Fatty Goodlander," then you have clearly not picked up a single cruising/sailing/boating publication in the past twenty years.  Aside from being a stellar shoestring circumnavigator who has lived almost exclusively on boats since childhood, he might just be the most prolific sailing writer the world has ever seen with a slew of excellent books and hundreds upon hundreds (maybe thousands?) of articles in his wake.

While I have never met him personally, we share roots in Chicago and a background in theater, and I have read and enjoyed many of his touching/funny/witty stories.  He is humble, funny, kind and clearly loves the heck out of life (and his beautiful wife, Carolyn).  His smile is genuine.  His stories are colorful and entertaining.  His travels impressive.  It is truly my honor to share with you our online interview so that you can get to know this incredible man, this living cruising legend (and one of my idols), a little bit better.  I hope you find it as inspiring and enjoyable as I did!

1) First things first - how'd you get the name "Fatty"?

I was an actor as a teenager, and the guys on the corner in Chicago used to joke that 'I was FAT,' as in lucky. (If you rob a bank and don't get caught, you are even Fat City! ) This isn't new... Think of the Fat Buddha that the starving Chinese adored. But at 15 I purchased my own sailboat, Corina, and the guys were blown away. "He's Capt Fat now!" said one as I walked by. This rapidly turned into Cap'n Fatty, which everyone calls me - wife, mother, and child included. For years, I wrote for SAIL mag under my real name of Gary. But I wanted to write some funnier, truer, grittier stuff, and used Cap'n Fatty. Honesty always resonates with the reader. At SAIL, I started out pretending to be something I am not. I learned an important lesson. You can be okay pretending, but only great being honest.

2)  You are a living legend and an inspiration to so many boaters all over the world.  How does this pseudo celebrity status make you feel?   

Mostly great! I'm honored to earn my living with my pen. The readers are the people that ultimately sign my paycheck. I am grateful. And I feel each of the fans I meet deserve a moment of civility. I try to make each one feel special for a moment or two. 

3)  Born to "penniless sea gypsies" you say you were "blessed" to have grown up almost exclusively on sailboats.  Did you always feel this way or was there a time you felt like you were missing out on land life and longed for normalcy?  Or were you always aware that your lifestyle was a gift? 

I was born an outsider. We were misfits. We were broke. My father wore a skirt (pareo). We bowed to no god. The dreaded do-gooders even got court orders a few times to take me away from my loving family... It was a GREAT way to grow up. 

The only thing better than being a boat kid was raising [daughter] Roma Orion aboard! (Yes, we've already sailed many a mile with Sokù Orion, our wonderful granddaughter.)

4)  If you had to pick one place you've been to stop cruising and settle down, where would that be and why?  

If I had to settle in an English-speaking place, that would be New Zealand. Luckily, I don't! When our health fails, we will retire to SE Asia. Or St. John, USVI, the nicest place under the American flag.

5)  You are a prolific writer (at one point sold over 200 articles a year for 10 years!) and seem to have articles in a sailing publication (sometimes more than one) every single month.  How much time do you spend writing and how do you maintain a work/life balance?  Does Carolyn ever begrudge all the time you spend in front of a computer?  

No, Carolyn never does, as she likes to eat as much as I do. Basically, I write four hours a day, from 8 to 12, minimum... and have done so for over 30 years. Each day, I am VERY excited to get to work. I do not really care about educating my readers; I want to emotionally touch them, make 'em laugh or cry. I believe I have written between 18 to 50 good pages in my life. I hope to write a few more before I die. 

6)  Speaking of Carolyn, behind every great man is a great woman and it is no secret how much you love and adore each other.  You met and fell in love so young and seem to have a charmed relationship, what is the secret to your obvious happiness?  

I do not know. She is very passionate, very smart, and very hardworking. We occasionally argue, etc, but we have always been there for each other since the age of 16. I can be a selfish little prick at times and we've been dead-broke for years at a stretch... chalking it all up to penis size seems simplistic. (Poor Carolyn has a permanent dent on her forehead from slapping herself and moaning, "I can't believe you said that!")

7)  Full-time live aboard cruising can be very challenging, and you are no stranger to the sometimes frustrating combination of project boat and low funds.  How, after over 50 years of living aboard, do you keep it fresh and not get "burned out?"  

I really like to sail, and Carolyn really likes to travel. We sail really hard for a couple of years (last year we sailed 10,000 miles and repowered) and then 'chill' with some coastal gunkholing for awhile. My boat is my everything: job, sport, love, passion, home, office, profession... I am still very turned on to living aboard, and feel that after 54 years... I am starting to get the hang of it! 

8) You've owned a bunch of boats and sailed a lot of miles on all of them.  When outfitting a boat for a voyage what are your top five pieces of equipment that you wouldn't head offshore without (aside from obvious things like sails, water and, of course, Carolyn)?  

I have a well deserved reputation for being cheap—but it is really VALUE which I seek, not price. The piece of gear I love most is my Monitor windvane. It is just about the only 'must have' piece of metal aboard. The AIS is a wonderful advance. I believe in Max props. Harken makes a wonderful roller furler. I prefer a tiller. Solar cells sure are swell. I grew up on a wooden boat with cotton sails and hemp anchor rodes and a sextant and a coal shuttle and kerosene running lights... so, yeah, I have seen a lot of changes. 

9)  I have a feeling you are not a 'regret' guy, but what is the biggest mistake you have ever made at sea or while cruising?  

I dunno. I've swam away from two vessels, so you'd think I'd have some! But most of my major mistakes are shoreside. (Pauses. Thinks) Mostly, I regret not doing stuff.  Sitting on your butt is boring. Fortune favors the brave.

10)  Are you shocked by how your life has turned out, or has the Universe conspired exactly how you thought it would?  Are you ever surprised or impressed by all your accomplishments?  

I'm happy. My boat is my magic carpet, my freedom machine. So I knew I'd sail. But I only went to school for five years.... 3 grammar, 2 high... and thus was worried I could not be writer. Luckily, I rapidly learned that good writing has little to do with intelligence and almost nothing to do [with] modern education. It's just transparency of personality on the printed page, that's all. It just takes a little grit. And I've got plenty of that. 

Want more FAT?  

First, Check out Cap'n Fatty's Facebook Page and Website and then buy his books, they are sure to give you a good laugh, a healthy dose of gypsy-tinged inspiration and maybe even tug at your heartstrings a little.  He is an expert story teller and his passion for life and living it to the fullest is infectious...

Books by Fatty:

• Chasing The Horizon: The Life And Times Of A Modern Sea Gypsy
• Buy, Outfit, Sail: How To Inexpensively and Safely Buy, Outfit, and Sail a Small Vessel Around the World
• Collected Fat
• Red Sea Run: Two Sailors in a Sea of Trouble
• Cruising World Yarns
• All At Sea Yarns: The All At Sea Stories
• Somali Pirates and Cruising Sailors
• Seadogs, Clowns, and Gypsies

So We Went to See Santa...

...and this happened.

We waited over an hour at the mall.  On a Monday.  In the beginning of December.  With hardly any line.  This of course made me wonder out loud to my girlfriend how in the HECK anyone would brave a Santa line with a toddler closer to Christmas and - God forbid - on a weekend.  Those of you who have or would are much nicer parents than myself because I don't think you could pay me to be near this fellow on a weekend (do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep an active toddler entertained in a line for even an hour, let alone three?!?)  Good thing too, because Isla was clearly not impressed and, judging by the photo, the feeling was mutual.  In fact, he immediately took a break after I picked Isla up off his lap.  Like, immediately.  It's got to be a little disheartening (not to mention exhausting) to be terrorizing babies and toddlers all day long.  Thank God for the three and up crowd who actually like good ol' Saint Nick and don't scream bloody murder the moment they see his face up close.

Of course I thought this was totally hysterical and this is precisely the reaction I anticipated for two reasons: 1) 99% of photos I have seen of toddlers Isla's age (or thereabouts) with Santa show children reaching various shades of crimson displaying similar levels of terror and 2) Isla's aversion to men with facial hair.

So I was not a bit shocked when she went stiff as a board and began to scream the very instant I placed her on his lap.  Classic.  Snap, snap, snap.  The poor, exhausted photographer desperately tried to distract her from her tears and wails with jingle bells and squeaky toys but Isla would have none of it.  She was done.

For those of you who worry that our sweet girl has been scarred for life by the big man in red, fear not!  She stopped screaming as quickly as she started and for the next two hours kept chirping excitedly, "saw Santa! Lap?" as if the whole thing was this awesome, happy encounter.  When we got home and I showed her the picture with him, she pointed and smiled, "Santa! Lap?" and displayed zero distaste or malice.  In fact, she looked pretty darn excited to see the big guy in print.  Toddlers.  They never know what they want.  So, yeah, she's gonna be okay.

Speaking of photos...the above is a picture of a picture because I was not allowed one with my own camera.  Apparently times are tough in the North Pole and they need extra revenue.  A helper elf came up to us in line and asked, "Will you be buying a package or just visiting?" and, after seeing that the basic package (two 5 x 7 photos) was $20, I was all "no thanks".  But, just to check I added, "we can take pictures with our own cameras though, right?" Negative.  So, really, I paid $20 bucks to entertain my child in a line for an hour and get a picture of her screaming at the end of it.  Good times.

It was worth it, though.  The "screaming with Santa" photo is like a right of passage.  So, to me, this picture is priceless.

Ho, ho, ho!

Maho Beach: Quite A Rush (But not without Side Effects)

Considering this beach is a cars width away from the runway of the Princess Juliana International Airport in St. Maarten, well, I think it goes without saying it's not what you would call "relaxing".  Lounging in the sand while sipping a tropical slushy rum drink and diving into a good book as the surf laps up against your feet is not what you come to this beach to do.  Oh no, you come here for one reason and one reason alone:  to get blasted by the jets of a 747 (or - if you are smart - watch others get jet blasted while you drink tropical slushy rum drinks from the relative safety of a bar nearby).  Welcome, my friends, to Maho Beach...

Our little girl happens to be obsessed, and I mean obsessed, with airplanes so it was a no brainer that we'd take her here.  She was in heaven, constantly pointing up to the sky and saying "ah-rane! ah-rane!" and then, as they flew directly overhead - so close it seemed you'd almost get clipped - she'd let out an excited "WHOOAAAAA!" followed by wide eyes and a look that said "holy crap mama, that was awesome".  Her mind was blown and to see a twenty month old child's mind being blown is pretty much the coolest thing ever.  The look on her face was priceless and made all the toxic fumes we no doubt inhaled totally worth it.

Of course me being the uber documenter I am, just had to experience the blast first hand and try to get some video footage of it.  Granted, I did not "ride the fence" like some other crazy fools (in which they hold on to the fence directly behind the plane and literally bathe in an abundance of toxic fumes and unadulterated jet power) but stood a little farther back on the beach.  When the engines fired up, an incredibly powerful blast of warm air rushed over me, forcing me to lean up against it to counteract the pressure and kicking up a tremendous amount of sand and debris...hats went flying, sunglasses were ripped off faces and a couple people (who were clearly inebriated) actually toppled over.  I had to turn my head and cover my face and, try as I might, I could not keep the camera directed towards the plane.  You can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.  I mean, who the heck stands behind a plane taking off for fun? I guess I do.  And apparently a LOT of other people too.  Just check YouTube for proof.

Anyway, apparently there is no other place in the world you can get this close to planes as they are landing and taking off (in fact, in most places this would probably be highly illegal but since when do the Dutch care about legality?) and the local Sunset Bar actually posts the times of take offs and landings so spectators can be sure to get in on the action.  I am here to report it's quite the rush and a good laugh (I am sorry, but seeing someone being blown over and rolling down the beach as a result of the jet blast is just hysterical...unless, of course, the person really gets hurt).

Unfortunately, I did not escape Maho Beach unscathed as the very next day I came down with some sort of eye infection.  And there is no one, and I mean no one can make a wonky eye look good.  According to the medical clinic which was (thankfully) right on the marina premises, I suffered a clogged duct of sorts.  It was painful, yes, but more than that it was pretty unsightly as my right eye was completely swollen.  While Scott tried to convince me that I was pulling of the "Christie Brinkley" look (I guess her eyes are squinty?) my friend Darcy could not look me in the eye without busting out into full-belly laughter at my awkward Quasimodo face (it was DEFINITELY more Quasi and Christie, I promise you that).  Luckily, after a dose of antibiotics and some specialty eye drops, I am back to normal.

Thanks to Maho Beach I will never take facial symmetry - and the power of a jet engine - for granted again.

The flow of planes is steady, and not all are big air busses.  Plenty of small planes too - all very cool to see.

Isla and Stormer being their adorable selves.  They are so in love!

Take off.  Note the man rolling down the beach.  Again, hysterical.

It's all fun and games until...

Your Life Raft Might Not Save Your Life...

Image found here.

...in fact, it might not even inflate in your hour of need.  And I don't think I need to tell anyone just how badly that would suck considering the general rule of thumb is not to step into a life raft until your primary vessel has all but sunk from underneath you.

One of the perks of this blog is the fact that we have some pretty savvy followers who have advised, assisted and helped us on more than one occasion.  Many are active cruisers and sailors and pretty keen to share pertinent information with us when they see fit, and we have benefitted many times thanks to the brains of others.

Brian, a blog follower turned friend who actually helped us deliver our boat from the Bahamas to the BVI's back in May, just sent us the following excerpt from a thread on life rafts in an Allberg 30 forum he belongs to.  Knowing that we have a canister life raft stowed on the deck of our boat, he thought we might find it "of interest".  I most certainly did find it interesting and I think you will too so I am reprinting it here for you.  The following is reposted with the permission of the author, Gord Laco, who happens to be a marine historical consultant with a very interesting and very impressive resume.  In fact, I would very much like to meet the man!

Good day - 

My only direct experience with life rafts was when I served as a consultant on the television show 'Survivorman' in which Les Stroud is sent into various environments and copes for five days with what one might expect to have at hand. Sometimes he's been in the desert, sometimes a swamp, the one I did with him was assuming he'd had to abandon a yacht at sea and live in a life raft for five days. 

The production company made a deal with a popular life raft company for the use of one of their four person life rafts; but they backed out at the last minute suggesting that a five day test of a life raft was unrealistic...their representative said 'in this day and age anyone anywhere should expect rescue in two days'. 

I reckon he doesn't read the news nor books much. 

We were in a pickle; there we were in Belize about to set Les adrift but without a raft. I hit upon the idea of renting a raft from a yacht actually on a voyage; there were several yachts around, I knew people would probably be glad of the cash and it would add an interesting story point to be using a 'real' raft in the midst of a voyage. 

The first two rafts we tried (and you can guess where this is going) which had both been stored in on-deck canisters, inflated correctly when the lanyard was pulled. The first literally fell to pieces before our eyes. You should have seen the look on the owner's face. The glue had perished and the raft sank as a bunch of sheets of hypalon rubber. 

The second raft didn't quite fall to pieces, but it leaked so badly that we couldn't use it. You should have seen the look on that fellow's face too. 

The third raft blew up and...and.... Stayed inflated. However, when we opened the emergency kit, we found twice the amount of food in the container, but no water. You should have seen the look on that fellow's face. 

Each of these rafts were by name-brand manufacturers you'd all know. The first two were older, past their first and second "re-pack" cycles and had been stored in deck canisters and I reckon baking in the sun is what did them in. The first one was three years past it's repack date, the second one year past, as was the third. 

We gave Les a very old Zodiac inflatable boat (editor note: to use in conjunction with the third life raft) reckoning that it was reasonable to assume a sailor abandoning ship would bring his dink. 

Les ended up living during the day in the life raft to get out of the sun, but he had to work steadily to keep it inflated and also bailed out. It leaked through it's bottom. 

The ancient Zodiac however, performed flawlessly and he slept in it at night. Which was fine except when it rained in which case he really suffered. 

So what did I come away from that with? Always observe the repack dates. And with regard to stowage - most certainly on-deck stowage is best with regard to getting the raft over the side; but beware the effect of the sun baking your raft while you're sailing. I'd suggest only putting it out on deck when you're making a passage. 

Well there's another long message, I hope it's interesting.

Gord

So there you have it.

Just like everything related to cruising, there are vast and passionate arguments on the necessity and/or practicality of having a dedicated "life raft" on board (some say a dinghy will do just fine and that to spend so much money on something that is akin to potentially bad insurance isn't worth it or that having one is false security and might cause you to "abandon ship" when, really, you should not).  While I am certainly glad we have our life raft on deck (and, yes, it is current) - this definitely gives us something to think about... (and yet another "action item" on our to do list: make sure life raft is regularly serviced).  Safety gear is something we have plenty of on our boat (we are, after all, super conservative cruisers) and it's sort of assumed it will work as planned, but there are many stories of such items (including inflatable PFD's) not working properly - or at all - when they are needed most which is a very good way to make a really, really bad situation infinitely worse.  Not sure what the answer is, but it's definitely something to be mindful of before you head out to the big blue and begin selecting your safety gear.

Thank you, Gord Laco, your knowledge and findings and thank you, Brian, for sharing them with us. 

Yes, I live in Paradise and Sometimes I want to Complain

Cry me a river, why dontcha?

Bust out your teeny-tiny violins folks (or ukeleles if you've got 'em), because you're about to play 'em for me...you can also feel free to file this post in the cabinet labeled "first world problems".  You've been forewarned.

You know what really bugs me?  The fact that, because my husband and I live on a boat in the Caribbean, I have no right to complain about anything.  Because, obviously, our life is "perfect" and because of where our GPS coordinates place us on the map, we are allowed to be nothing more than grateful for the sweltering heat, torrential downpours, our ever growing project list and any other slice of life pie that doesn't sit right in our bellies at any given moment.  I mean, how dare we complain about these things, right?  We're living a life that most people dream of!

When I say that it's hot, I get emails and comments saying, "Well, it's certainly better than shoveling snow!" or if I mention I've been busy, I get a snarky "please" from someone who is (obviously) busier than I, or... when I complain we have a lot to fix, I get "well at least you have a boat to fix!"  I'm all for looking on the bright side (I mean, have you read my blog?) but sometimes, the dark side wins and a grievance slips out.  Once, when I lamented in a tiny Facebook update about the non-stop rainy and stormy weather in the BVI's, one follower called me "spoiled".  Whatever, I get it: we put our story out there for all to see and this gives people the right to talk back.  This goes with the territory of having a blog with a large audience.  People think our life is a dream and we should be nothing but appreciative for it.  Every. Single. Second.  After all, they are the ones who sit in traffic every morning, drinking stale coffee and commuting to the job they despise.   They are the ones who actually suffer (suffer being a very relative term here).  People like us?  We just sit around, twiddling our thumbs and wonder what tropical slushy rum drink to order next while we hang out in beach bars yucking it up with colorful folks like Jimmy Buffett.

Um...not so much.

First of all, I would like you all to know that just because we live on a boat in the Caribbean does NOT mean our life is "perfect."  Okay, so our backdrop might be a little more dynamic and dramatic than the average midwestern suburb, but that doesn't mean it's always beautiful.  Sometimes, islands are a mess... garbage is everywhere, heartbreakingly scrawny stray dogs play in the gutters, and buildings are anything but "quaint".  We've visited places where we wouldn't even jump in the water.  And, despite what it might seem in the brochures, not every local is welcoming us with open arms and big toothy grins.  Some are mean, rude, and don't enjoy our presence.  This is still real life down here, complete with good, bad and ugly influences.  People imagine that our life is one huge extension of their last all-inclusive vacation in St. Whatever-it-was.  Negative, Ghost Rider...  Rarely, if ever, are we in the manicured areas of the resorts.  Rarely, if ever, do we eat at the five-star buffets offered to week-at-a-time tourists.  We take public transportation, not just for a "thrill" or an "experience", but because we have to.  We eat at local places not just to be "adventurous" but because that's what makes sense for our budget.   I'm not complaining, it's just how it is.  We actually prefer it this way.  But I promise you,  not all of you would enjoy this view.  Travel the way we do it is an acquired taste, it's polarizing and not for everyone.  Sometimes, it's not even for us.  Sometimes, it sucks.  Sometime, (GASP!) it's boring.

The majority of our days are not spent lounging under waving palm fronds listening to waves lap up against the shore.  Despite what you might think, we work and those days spent hanging on the beach drinking cocktails are the exception, not the norm.  I spend a terrific amount of time on our blog and sponsorships and Scott is the relief captain for Island Windjammers.  "But your husband only works for one month every three" you say, rolling your eyes at the ease of this schedule.  This is true, but the reason this works for us is because we probably SPEND A LOT LESS THAN YOU.  We don't have cars, we don't have mortgages, we don't buy fancy clothes and shoes, we don't have school loans, we don't pay for daycare, our social calendar is collecting dust, we have hardly any bills, we don't pay nearly as much for gas and utilities...the list goes on.  We don't NEED to work as much because we live on a boat and have chosen to live with a little less than most of our landlubbing peers.  This was all part of our plan because to have me "stay at home" with Isla and not have to work was a priority for us.  What's more, when the "paid" work is finished, the unpaid work begins.  We maintain our boat almost exclusively by ourselves and this is no walk in the park.  Ever take apart a toilet and get human excrement on you?  If you sign up for this life, I assure you - this is in your future.  And that's not even the hard work.  Get excited, people.

The truth of the matter is, while many of you look at full-time cruisers and think "How nice! I wish I could live like that," I'd be willing to bet that only a very small percentage of you would actually WANT to live on a boat full-time when push came to shove.  In fact, I'd be willing to bet that after a few weeks of living on a boat as we do; dealing with the never-ending upkeep, living in cramped quarters, sailing in nasty weather, struggling to get the lay of the land, sweating your ass off in some dingy harbor, constantly dealing with broken systems and the fact that even the most menial chores take two or three times longer than they do on land - I probably couldn't pay some of you to live on a boat.  It is hard work and, while we might make it look easy, believe me - it is not.  Life on land is much, much easier.  I'm not trying to dissuade anyone, because most people who are gearing up to cruise full-time already know all this (at least, I hope they do) but - as incredible as this life is (and, yes, it is incredible) - it has its...moments.

We have our issues, just like you.  We have our bad days, just like you.  We have moments where we wonder why we're doing this, and some days we even wish we lived a "normal" life on land.  It's far from perfect, but it's our life and, for now, it's the life we want to lead because the positives outweigh the negatives for us.  But no life and certainly no person is "perfect" and this is important to be mindful of.  "If it looks too good to be true, it probably is".  I think it's crucial not to idealize full-time cruising because you are in for one hell of a shock if you are expecting your life to mimic a Jimmy Buffet album.  It's like that only some of the time...like, maybe 2%.  If you are childless, you might be able to eek it up to around 8 or 10%. Maybe.

So excuse me if I want to complain about the weather/my boat/my hair/cooking...etc. from time to time, but I'm only human.  And yes, I live in paradise.  But you know what?  I am still waiting for the day when I can waste away in Margaritaville.  So, how 'bout you play that tune for me on that teeny-tiny violin you're holding?  Thanks.