23-Jul-2008, Dewey, Culebra, Puerto Rico

CURRENT LOCATION: Anchored in Ensenada Honda
18 18.318' N, 065 18.008' W

As you may know from my writings last summer (including my article in Living Aboard Magazine), marinas are full of boats that are treated as alternative housing. People live on the water and commute to jobs, but rarely (if ever) take their boats away from the slip. In fact, we made great efforts last summer to be certain to get away from the docks at least once a month, just to avoid falling into the 'marina liveaboard' lifestyle on a more permanent basis.

As I mentioned in my last blog, we have been away from marinas since our departure in November. However, we have observed two types of 'cruisers' during that time. The 'moving cruiser' and the 'stationary cruiser.' I know, I know, the latter sounds like an oxymoron...and I suppose that it is...however, I do see a distinction. A marina liveaboard is most often someone who lives a rather traditional lifestyle. They have a car, they have a job, and their 'house' is plugged into the grid. Their home just happens to float. A stationary cruiser, on the other hand, has stepped away from many of the facets and obligations of the traditional American lifestyle, including a job and a car. In fact, they may have stepped away from America itself.

I can speak with authority, because we have not only observed the marina liveaboard, the moving cruiser, and the stationary cruiser, we have experienced all three. In fact, we have had an equal amount of time to experience each lifestyle (about 5 months of each) and it seems appropriate to take this opportunity to reflect upon the knowledge gained.

Being a moving cruiser is a lot of work. The boat must be maintained in a constant state of readiness for being underway. At each stop, inflatable tenders are assembled, inflated, used, deflated, dissembled, and stowed. Leisure reading takes a back seat to reviewing charts and guidebooks for the next destination. Weather becomes a huge focal point and makes the ultimate decision about how long you stay in one spot. Obviously, sleep suffers on overnight passages. But, even more exhausting is the tenuous hold on sleep that the first night at a new anchorage brings, hoping that neither you nor your neighbors will drag anchor in the middle of the night. Add to that the hassle and expense of dealing with government officials and learning where to obtain the basic essentials for the moving cruiser: food, fuel and water. Finally, somewhere within all of those distractions you must find time to maintain the boat and engine (oil changes, zinc replacement, stainless cleaning, bottom scraping, etc.)

The positive side of being a moving cruiser is the constant change in scenery. It is the carrot that drives us over all of the hurdles listed above. Arriving at a new destination where we will stay long enough to explore engenders that 'kid on Christmas morning' feeling. Sometimes that energy can be so strong that it overcomes the fatigue generated by all of the work required to get there and pushes us on to an even greater point of exhaustion. But, the explorations are always worth it. And, we eventually take a day or two of rest to get our feet back under us.

With weather forecasts ringing in our ears, the moving cruiser does not allow any moss to grow on the hull. There is a mindset of movement. After a week at one location we are antsy to move on. There is a need to find new places to explore and to mark more progress toward our ultimate destination (even if we don't know where that is). So there is chartwork to be done and waypoints to enter. And, for me at least, I always worry on the eve of a departure. Will the engine start and keep running? Will the weather forecast hold? Are we ready for the challenges of the unknown waters ahead? It amounts to another night of fitful sleep and a poor way to launch into a busy time underway.

The stationary cruiser is a different sort of animal. Time takes on a different meaning when you stay in one spot for over a month. You begin to listen to the weather forecast to help decide what you might want to do today (perhaps snorkeling or the beach), rather than to determine when the next weather window to move the big boat will present itself. You complete that list of maintenance items and can actually relax for a change. You know where everything is and feel entirely comfortable with your surroundings. You develop a normal sleep schedule and sleep soundly most every night.

Longer stays in a given spot also allow you to get to know people on land. You may even get involved in volunteer work to support the community you are slowly becoming a part of. Unlike a marina liveaboard; however, you can never fully fit in. You don't have a car, you don't have a job, and inviting people over involves shuttling them back and forth to the boat in your dinghy.

Even in a place with diverse opportunities for exploration, eventually everything has been done and there is really nothing new to discover. Of course, by this time the moving mindset has faded away. The boat is no longer in a state of immediate readiness to put to sea. The deck is littered with inflatable kayaks, sunshades, and windscoops. The bottom and anchor chain has grown a furry coat of underwater creatures. And, the charts and guidebooks are buried under a stack of paperbacks. I suppose the biggest impediment to moving is the 'night of worry.' Who wants to go through that? It is easier to just stay in one place, where nothing can break, and you already know where everything is. It is safe. It is comfortable.

So, yesterday as I stayed on the boat (yes, for those wondering I never did make it out to exercise) I thought about where we are and which of the boat dweller categories above we are likely to eventually settle into. Or maybe we will simply oscillate between them as we have done over the last year? I didn't think too long and hard on it, though. Instead, I relaxed and read a paperback.

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