Life Aboard

This edition of Damaged Carrots is titled Life Aboard, in which I will try to provide an introduction, to the uninitiated, of what living aboard a 36-foot sailboat is all about.

But first, let us get acquainted. I am Commodore K. Myrth Carrot (K for short), Captain of Ho-Beaux. It is nice to meet you. And this is my... um... first mate Mariann Carrot (M for short). She and I crew Ho-Beaux, currently stationed at Shilshole marina in Seattle, Washington, USA. Ho-Beaux is scheduled to ship out for Sandefjord, Norway in the summer of 2007, carrying a cargo of two Carrots (slightly damaged). More on this voyage in future postings.

Now, living aboard. People ask: "So, K, what is it like living on a sailboat? How exciting!" (Generally, they have this sort of intense look in their eye, imagining the romance of a life at sea.) Some even say: "Cool, I was thinking of doing that myself someday, if I can get [significant other and/or family dog] to go for it!"

To these sorts of questions, which, to be fair, are exactly the sorts I would ask if our situations were reversed, I get a somewhat cynical tilt to my brow: "Nah. Living on a boat sucks. Don't do it."

"Well ... If it sucks, why do you do it?"

Yes, this probably needs more explanation. I guess my point is that sans un plus grand but, living aboard a small boat is just about like living in a small trailer home... Not a choice made by most of us who aren't NASCAR fans. I mean, it is nice - reeealllly niiiiice - to spend an evening at a hotel, or at someone's house, because generally the room you're staying in has more enclosed space than the boat. So, for the layman (those who are not self-proclaimed Commodores or their first mates), I would recommend taking stock of how much stuff you have, and estimating how much of it you would have to get rid of if you were moving into your bathroom. If this does not phase you, then, hey, life is short, go for it.

Let me reinforce the point, though, by taking you on a seated tour of our salon, which is our living room / dining room / kitchen / office. (We also have a small bedroom up front, and a shower-sized bathroom, which actually does double as a shower.)

This sequence of four photos shows me on my settee, writing a mediocre blog. It pans across our salon, towards the companionway where we enter the boat.

A few things to notice:
- Every horizontal surface is covered with stuff. (Including books that will help me save the world.) This is because there is nowhere else to put it.
- The microwave is sitting on top of the stove, and must be moved onto something else each time the stove is used. (Marie Callendar's microwave lasagnas kick ass, by the way.)
- The dishrack is full of washed dishes, and yet the sink is full of unwashed dishes.



Ah, the romance of the sea! But I am being too facetious for my own good. Really, I love this life, even having been liberated of most of my (ultimately useless) material things, however the only thing that makes the years spent confined (rather than making craploads of money on appreciation of the value of a home in Seattle) is that we will be taking this ship on a great adventure. Stay tuned!