The Adventure Begins!
The last months before our departure were a flurry of boat work and goodbyes. I experienced such a range of emotions that it feels like I am only now, a week after departure, beginning to process it all. I have attempted to write a blog post several times but the thoughts and emotions got so jumbled up that I couldn’t make sense of them on a page. Here’s my fourth attempt!
About a year and a half ago we decided to choose a departure date. We kept hearing the same advice from other cruisers in books, blogs and podcast interviews: “You’ll never be completely ready, at some point you just have to go.” There are many people who dream of living aboard and sailing the world, but their boats never leave the yard, or the dock, until health issues or other circumstances make it impossible to go. We had been living aboard for nearly three years, Karl had been working for Nike for over two decades, and I had been a nanny for the same family for nearly seven years. We both felt it; we were ready for the big change.
We were out sailing on a friend’s boat when someone asked us the question we had heard seemingly a million times. “So when do you guys take off on your big trip?”
“In one or two years” Karl answered automatically. I felt irritated at this response and I had to think about why. I realized that it was because I didn’t believe that it was true anymore. As the years had passed, the response to this question had changed from “four or five years” to “two or three years” and now it was “one or two” but nothing we were doing in our day to day lives was actually bringing us closer to our goal. Yes, we had bought the boat and moved aboard, we had learned to sail her, done some repairs and upgrades, and we had cruised to the San Juan Islands the year before. We loved our life on the water, we loved our jobs, our many wonderful friends and family, and we loved our dream of a future sailing the world. But how would that future become our present? We weren’t saving much money, we were paying our bills, eating nice meals, going on trips and vacations and enjoying our life. We had made our boat a lovely and comfortable home, but we weren’t working to prepare her for true ocean voyaging.
So, as I am never able to hold my thoughts in for long, I took Karl aside and expressed my feelings of frustration that this dream no longer felt like it was becoming a reality. As Karl often does, he offered a simple solution: “Okay, so then let's pick a date. Two years? One year?” Of course in my head I thought: Well, that’s easy to say, but how is that even possible? However, we had talked about working remotely to fund our voyage, and if we didn’t have to save enough money to support ourselves for years, what was stopping us? Nothing that couldn’t be done in a year and a half, I figured. So we agreed, summer of 2023. Just like that, it suddenly felt very real. Very real, very exciting and a bit overwhelming.
Of course this was only the beginning. We ran numbers, we drafted spreadsheets and lists upon lists of what needed to be done to make that goal. But when we committed to departing, it shifted our thinking. We began actively putting the pieces into place. I gave one-year notice to the family I worked for, I stopped buying things that were only needed for land life and started spending any extra money I had on supplies for boat projects. I set goals for what I would accomplish each month, even though each thing took longer and cost more than expected, and inevitably each month several items got pushed to the following month and then the next. But we were getting things done!
The last few months before departure felt like living with a foot in each of two worlds. My mind was consumed with to-do lists, supplies, projects and research. There were lists on my phone, lists in my purse, lists on the wall. It felt impossible to contain everything we needed to do in my brain. It felt hard to focus and stay present in the other world: the one with a full time job, with groceries and bills and appointments and social engagements. But it was important to stay present because that other world was a wonderful one that we were preparing to leave behind. We wanted to enjoy our last months in Portland and savor our time with our loved ones.
When the weather finally turns and spring comes to Portland, it’s like an infusion of energy, as if the whole city is waking up from hibernation. When it was finally dry enough to start many of the boat projects on our list, it was also the time that we would normally be planning camping trips, sailing trips, barbecues and all the amazing summer adventures we enjoy with our friends and family. On top of this, we were still working full-time. It was a lot to balance. Looking back on it now, it feels incredibly beautiful how it all came together. We figured it out. I got to spend two wonderful weeks on the East Coast seeing friends and family, a weekend at the beach with some of my best friends, and several days out at my mom’s sewing boat cushions together in her barn. Karl took a two day trip with two of his kids, and made it up to Vancouver, BC for a friend’s 50th birthday party. Friends came out to our boat even though it was in no condition to sail and we would take a break from boat work and buzz over to our favorite beach in the dinghy to have a drink and play with Desi.
Our good friend Sabrina hosted an awesome going away party for us and many wonderful friends showed up to wish us well on our voyage. She and our good friend Becky made us a beautiful book full of messages and photos from our friends to take with us on our journey. We sold our first boat, our beloved Catalina 22 to our dear friend Matteo, who gave her a good home. He threw us a lovely going away party as well and wrote and performed a song for us. Karl had a memorable last work trip, so much love and support from his co-workers and so many sweet goodbyes. Though it broke my heart, I had the perfect parting from my work-family, who have been in my life since their kids were toddlers and who were moving on to new adventures of their own.
Many of the things on our to-do lists got downgraded from “must do before departure” to “can be done along the way.” In the last few days there were many times we found ourselves literally running from place to place to get things done in time, and more than once, we were still out on the dock at 10 pm working with power tools in the light of a headlamp. When we finally left the dock on departure day, our boat was in an unlivable state, with piles on every surface; unfinished projects and unorganized provisions. But we left with all that we needed, with our storage unit emptied, our cars and possessions sold, our goodbyes said, our food, tools, and spare parts aboard.
When I look back on those last weeks from a calmer place, the chaos and stress of those moments is already fading. What I remember is all the wonderful moments with the people we love and I feel immense gratitude. In a book I read about preparing for the cruising life, the author advised not to tell your friends and family right away about your plans because their doubts, judgements and concerns may have a negative impact on you and your plans. In over six years of planning for this voyage, there is not a single one of our friends or family who has shown anything but encouragement, excitement and support for our dream and I often think how amazingly blessed we are to have a community that understands and enthusiastically supports our decision to leave the city, jobs, people and life that we love for an adventure that is calling us.
So, let the adventure begin! I did it, my first blog post! For all the wonderful people in our lives, thanks for your amazing love and support. Thanks for reading. We love you! We’ll miss you!
-Karinate & Karl
