Free Movies for a Dreamer By Michael

NOTE: These movies are claimed...

So, the book giveaway was a success and today I found these DVDs and VHS tapes that probably wouldn't generate a lot of interest in the local Goodwill store. I will send these to the first interested person to email us, no charge. I am going to the post office in the morning, so don't delay. Following is what I have:

• Three DVDs by Lin and Larry Pardey: Get Ready to Cruise, Get Ready to Cross Oceans, and Storm Tactics.
• Sailing in Heavy Weather featuring Warren Luhrs, John Neal, and Steve Dashew.
• Ice Blink is a retrospective look back at the two big cruises of Dave and Jaja Martin and their three kids, first around the world aboard Direction and then their time in Iceland and Norway aboard Driver. This DVD features reflective interviews with them from their home in Maine and lots of footage from their adventures.
• The Voyage of Eros is an instructional VHS from 1990 about sailing Tonga.
• Mermaid: Our Family in Paradise is a VHS from 2002 about a family's one-year cruise in the Caribbean and Bahamas.
• And finally, Just Cruising is the Copeland family's video about their 6-year circumnavigation aboard their Beneteau 38, Bagheera (VHS).

We'd be pleased to have these in the hands of someone genuinely interested in them. Happy dreaming (and planning)!

--MR

Unemployed By Michael

Breaking bread in the cockpit with Mexican fishermen,
Islas San Benitos, 1997

Today was the last day of my IT consulting career. Over the years, I came to appreciate that the company I work for truly celebrates diversity. At the start of my tenure, I rolled my eyes at this seemingly obligitory nod to political correctness. But I soon learned that promoting diversity is not lip service, it is a dedication to peer reviews and consideration of other points of view--all in the interest of delivering the best results for a client, and winning more work in the long run. It is a strong culture of celebrating (and promoting) the most effective staff. From my first day in 2003, I felt I could take my career as far as I wanted and I never felt that my efforts--even if unsuccessful--were overlooked.

Accordingly, I enjoyed the opportunity to work alongside my colleagues from all over the world. I was personally enriched by my professional and personal relationships with nationals from Brazil, China, Egypt, Ethiopia, India, Iran, Iraq, Kenya, Lebanon, Mexico, New Zealand, Peru, Romania, Russia, and Sri Lanka. Growing up in suburban Southern California during the 1970s and 80s, I didn't have the opportunity to play and learn with classmates or neighbors who spoke, thought, and ate very differently than I. My world was characterized by light-skinned people who shared similar backgrounds and life experiences.

It's been especially interesting this past couple weeks, describing our cruising plans to everyone at my office. A few got it, instantly. They may have been surprised I am doing this, but they were familiar with the cruising concept and their questions centered around where the boat is now, where we are planning to go, and for how long. But for many others it was completely foreign. Completely foreign. After I explained everything, many of those folks remained incredulous. I was always happy to explain and answer any questions. It struck me that growing up in the U.S., phrases like, "sail off into the sunset" are a part of the lexicon and the "dream" to sell everything and take off on a sailboat is not so unique in our popular culture.

This speaks to one of the primary reasons we're leaving now to do this: our girls. In our cruising lifestyle we aim to immerse ourselves in many cultures, across continents. I'm pleased to anticipate my girls enriched--and to a far greater extent than I have been to date--in ways that shape them as curious, compassionate people who celebrate and promote diversity.

Two days of packing and then comes departure day. We can't wait.

--MR 



Life underway in 1997, flying a 130 in light airs
somewhere off the coast of Guatemala



What If... By Michael

What if the cruising life doesn't suit our family?
 

Windy aboard the first Del Viento, arriving Acapulco, 1997

With a For Sale sign in front of the house and having given notice at work, I am sharing our cruising plans with strangers, acquaintances, or friends for the first time, more than ever before. At least half of these folks respond with some variation of, "You're so brave." I always dismiss the comment, usually offering that we've done this before, so we know what we're getting into, et cetera. And I think this is true, for the most part.

But in many very significant ways, this radical lifestyle change we've put into motion is completely new and foreign to us. We were unmarried, childless twenty-somethings the last time we did this. How relevant can that experience be? We are pretty far removed from the couple who sailed the first Del Viento.

I don't think we are brave as much as we are willfully ignorant, willing to accept the unknown. There are a hundred valid concerns that could be used as arguments for not up-ending our stable, middle-aged lives. They all stem from questions like the following.

• Will we spend a lot more than we anticipate, running out of savings?
• Will I really be able to earn enough writing to make a difference?
• Will we be forced to return to "land life" for financial reasons, deeply regretting the financial toll this whole radical "experiment" will have taken?
• Will our old boat require more money to maintain than we are budgeting?
• Will health care be as inexpensive as we have budgeted?
• Will living together in tight quarters adversely affect our relationship with each other and with our kids?
• Will the girls lack or miss the strong social connections they have today?
• Will the girls really get an education sufficient to give them the choices and opportunities we want for them later on?
• Will the girls fail to appreciate the lifestyle we anticipate and pine for the DC life they remember?
• Will our families not visit as often as we anticipate and connections weaken?
• Have we forgotten or underestimated the hardships associated with the cruising life and instead allowed the years to exaggerate the highlights?
• Will it get "old" quickly?
• Will we feel the urge to constantly move on to the next port, missing the opportunity to make the kinds of friendships that would enrich the journey?

Del Viento departing Cabo San Lucas anchorage, 1997

Of course, as I wrote each of these questions, I affirmed my own feeling that none of the negative things they allude to are likely to come to pass. Windy surely feels the same. But I acknowledge that none of these questions can be answered now, not a single one. Some we will not be able to answer until we have been out there for a good while. And this is okay, with us.

But why is it okay?

I don't know. I think part of it is who we are, together and individually. I think a bigger part of it is that we feel we've mitigated our risks so that they are not as large as they may otherwise seem. We certainly have a better sense of the cruising reality than the average couple or family heading out for the first time. We have read enough about the successful experiences of the other families out there now, and who have been out there before, that our unanswered questions surrounding the girls do not keep us up at night. And finally, we are confident that we've saved enough in our retirement accounts that after 20 more years of growth we will be in good shape. This is a big factor and means that we have only to provide for ourselves and the girls for the next 20 years, day by day, without regard for the longer term.

Some folks don't call us brave. They instead offer encouragment, usually along the lines of, "Do it while you're young," or, "You only live once," or, "You're so lucky." I agree wholeheartedly with these sentiments, but they leave me feeling like I have to counter the reckless connotation of these phrases. I didn't have a bad day at work and decide to chuck it all. We are not impulsive in that way. Our decision to do this, while reliant on our willful ignorance and nurtured by the, "you only live once" sentiment, was deliberate and is coming to pass only after years of careful planning and focused saving.

So if the cruising life doesn't suit our family, all of our family, despite our massive bet that it will, we may return to the types of lives we left, or try something altogether different. You do only live once.

--MR

Free Books for a Dreamer By Michael

NOTE: The books are long gone, thank you.

Good Ole Books

As we're packing up and getting ready to ship out (literally), I came across four books that we really loved, that we are not taking with us, and that would be perfect for the would-be cruiser out there reading this blog:

• Beth Leonard, Following Seas
• Jim Trefethen, The Cruising Life
• Dave & Jaja Martin, Into the Light
• Tom Neale, All in the Same Boat

If you are that person, and you are the first to to send us an email (see the Contact Us tab), I will be happy to send these to you, free. You may send us $10 to cover shipping, but that's not necessary; I will be happy to have these read by someone who will enjoy reading them.

These are especially good for the would-be cruiser with a family, as two of the books are so oriented. The Trefethen book is just awesome for anyone who understands the life, but wants a common-sense guide to transitioning, and with answers to all of the questions you could possibly have. The Leonard book, Following Seas, is an essayist's look back at her cruising adventures. I profiled almost all of these on our The Library tab too.

So, I look forward to getting your email and sending these out. But hurry, they've got to get out of here soon.

--MR

Goodbye Good Cats By Michael



Over the years, Mit never lost her cool



Georgia's not fierce,
just yawning



About the only non-positive thing that's happened lately is having to resettle the cats this past weekend. These two have been with us for nearly the 10 years we've lived in this house. We got Mit and Georgia before we had kids.

I'm comforted knowing they are going to our neighbors and good friends (they took our chickens late last year), that neither would enjoy boat life or the car trip that precedes it, and that the little hard drives in their brains will be wiped clean after about 10 days and they will be happy in their new home. But it's been strange without Georgia cozied up at the foot of our bed these past few nights, without Mit's little mew as the girls lug their playmate from one part of the house to another, and without a grateful little feline face at the back door waiting to be let in. Gonna miss these two.

--MR



Lords of the Flies By Michael

Frances and I hanging out at first yard sale weeks back: a calm in the storm

Yesterday, Mother’s Day, only a week after our open house, and the buyers and their inspector completed the home inspection. We’ve not heard anything yet, but what a day.

Windy spent the previous night up with Eleanor, trying to control her fever. The poor girl was miserable and began complaining of difficulty breathing. In the morning, off to Children’s Hospital they went while Frances and I stayed back to clean up and get the place ready for the afternoon inspection.

Chest x-rays revealed pneumonia. This morning, Eleanor’s not 100%, but she slept well last night and is obviously responding to the antibiotics.

I wrote before that we’ve all been sick, in turn, for the entire past 6 weeks. I was under the weather for nearly the entire time—and what a time. It’s no wonder Eleanor crashed. Like Navy Seals in Hell Week training, this was our family’s Hell Month preparation for listing the house. During that time the girls mostly raised themselves. Windy and I would both be working late into the night with paint brushes or tools in hand, suddenly realize it is way past any sensible bed time, and track down the girls only to find they’d put them themselves to bed—teeth brushed and lights out.

Nobody’s been eating healthily. We’ve ordered countless pizzas and whipped up way too many boxes of macaroni and cheese. The pantry is relatively bare. I’ve long been pleased that we are a family that takes every dinner and weekend breakfast together at the dining room table. But that table has sat unused like a museum piece for the past month. Eating happened where and when it could. We've neglected our children, allowing them to fend for themselves so as not to interrupt our frantic bid to complete home improvements. The girls can now show us tricks for navigating Netflix site and who knows what they’ve been watching the past 30 days.

Neither of us deserves a day that celebrates our parenting, so it is just as well it turned out as it did. Here’s looking forward to Father’s Day, which I will gladly share with Windy.

--MR

It's Gone By Michael

Under Contract

Things are moving fast in DC. Our house went under contract late last night and we have a June 3 closing scheduled. This means we could be starting our epic cross-country drive to PV in less than a month!

Just when I’d gotten used to the past 72 hours with nothing more to do than go to work and tend to minor household chores—a real respite from the past 6 months, and especially the past month—we're now feeling the sense of urgency to kick it into gear again to get ready to go.

I don’t think I’ve written about it on this blog, but I wrote “epic” to describe our cross-country drive to PV because that’s what we have planned. There are a lot of folks and things we want to see on our trip and few of them (Mike and Dar!) are in the path of a direct southern route from DC to PV, so we are heading north.

In the you-only-live-once spirit of this entire plan to upend our lives and go cruising: there is a brewery in Pennsylvania I want to visit, then Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water, and then Niagara Falls. That puts us way up in Buffalo, NY.  From there, we will take either the south-of-the-Great-Lakes route to see friends in Wisconsin, or first check out Montreal and drop in from the north. From Madison, we’ll indulge Eleanor’s desire to see Mount Rushmore, and then down to see Grandma in Western Nebraska. We’ll have with us furniture to drop off with family in Missoula, Montana, before climbing the Rockies and traversing Washington state to visit friends in the Pacific Northwest. After Port Angeles, we will finally head south, seeing family and friends in Portland, Oregon and nearly every coastal area in California. I think it will have been nearly a month by the time we spend the night in San Diego in preparation for an early morning crossing into the Baja. We’ll probably spend the night halfway down the peninsula before staying with friends in La Paz, catching the ferry to Mazatlan, and driving the final stretch to Puerto Vallarta.

Epic, yeah? All in a 1999 Ford Escort wagon towing a trailer and powered only by a tired 1.9L engine. What are the odds we make it?

--MR

It's On By Michael

The ubiquitous real estate For Sale sign: it's everywhere and it's unremarkable...until it's the one planted in your front yard. Now that's remarkable. We've been preparing for five years to sell the house and we are totally mentally prepared for it. Yet I'm still a bit surprised when I see the gloss-white 4x4 post out there with the Open Sunday placard perched on top, such a strange thing. Even weirder still is opening the house to complete strangers to walk through and make judgements about whether our beloved home is a place they'd want to call their own.


Our house, for the time being

I think it will sell quickly. We've priced it competitively based on other new listings nearby. It went on the market yesterday and we've already had half a dozen folks come by with their agents. Tomorrow we have two more scheduled and the open house the day after. All very encouraging.

But this ain't 2006 and I imagine there is greater potential in 2011 for any real estate deal to fall through. Financing is more difficult to obtain, it's a buyers market, and who knows which recent foreclosure comps will cause it to not appraise near the contract price. Yikes.

So we are waiting and wrapping up a bunch of small details ahead of the open house. This past month has flown by. Every one of us has been sick at some point, me for most of the month. This has made it much harder to get everything done we needed to do to get to where we are today. We've painted the entire house, including ceilings. We've had the yard sale to end all yard sales. We've completed the final touches to a million little projects begun over the years. (Why didn't we paint and wrap up these projects before?)

If we do sign a contract in the next several days, and close about 40 days later, we could be on the road the second week of June.

Whoa.

Del Viento here we come!

--Michael

Frances is Five By Windy & Michael

We hatched our 5-year plan to go cruising in 2006, just a few weeks after she was born.

She's never been aboard our boat. Except at the recent boat show, she's never been aboard a sailboat.

Yet Frances has never known her family not planning to live aboard a boat. This is her picture: "Home Sweet Home."

I love the companionway steps, and the keel-stepped mast. Her dad, the vegetarian, is eating, "a chicken leg!" And that brown pupa-looking thing, "it's food!"

Healthcare and Cruising By Michael

Several of the responses to my guest post on Get Rich Slowly (mostly an audience without a knowledge or understanding of the cruising community) asked simply, "What about health insurance?" As our departure date approaches, we are crossing one thing after another off our list(s). But one thing we haven't yet resolved is whether or not to buy health insurance (and not having health insurance does not mean not having health care).

Windy bandaged up and listening to her instructor at NOLS



In the United States, the cost of health care rightly leaves folks feeling like health insurance is an imperative. The employer-based nature of our health insurance industry leaves many folks feeling like maintaining a relationship with an employer who will make you a de facto member of a group policy, is an imperative. Furthermore, switching employers severs ties to that group and can leave you unable to join another group, should you have any pre-existing condition. Because illness and corresponding health care expenses are one path to personal bankruptcy in the U.S., it is understandable that the first mental roadblock when contemplating an adventure like ours is, "What about health insurance."

Well, we've already decided to leave the employer-based system and the only question that remains is whether or not to purchase insurance on our own, and if we do, what kind?
As I see it, there are three non-employer-based health insurance options for the U.S.-based cruiser:

• A traditional policy through a U.S.-based company like Blue Cross/Blue Shield. This can be either a policy akin to what most folks get from their employer (in terms of coverage and deductible limits) or it can be a high-deductible ($5,000 to $10,000) policy that includes defined lifetime caps.


• A traditional policy through a company based in the country we happen to be in for an extended period of time. These policies are used by cruisers who spend many months, or years, in one country. Mexico is the example I am most familiar with. In several ports of call, there are cruisers who have obtained FM3s, or long-term non-immigrant visas. They often carry insurance through Instituto Mexicano del Seguro Social (IMSS) and/or a private carrier. In both cases the costs are almost negligible.


• An international policy that provides coverage in any country. These policies are underwritten by non-U.S. companies and intended for long-term international travelers and feature high-deductibles. Not surprisingly, they universally limit to six months per calendar year the amount of time that can be spent in the U.S..

I've looked into the first option and the cost is prohibitive (roughly $7,000 per year for our family), even with a large deductible ($5,000). Even if costs were within our budget, coverage is not designed for folks who receive care outside of the U.S.. For us, this option is not really an option.

The second option, buying into the Mexican system for the time we are there, and perhaps supplementing this with a private carrier, is attractive, for the time we are in Mexico. I've read numerous accounts by cruisers in Mexico who have received excellent care, for everything from routine dental work to complicated surgeries. I have no reservations about Mexican health care for us and the total costs are comparable to what we pay in co-pays and deductibles in the U.S.. I've read that the annual cost of IMSS is $250 per person.

The third option is a popular one. I read last year on Lin and Larry Pardey's blog about their 2002 research leading them to purchase health insurance through Lifeboat Medical Insurance. Another company I read good things about is Seven Corners and their Reside plan. (Note: Seven Corners happens to also be the administrator of the Lifeboat plan, though I think the underwriters are different, and the rates for Lifeboat seem to be a bit lower, but require membership in the Charter Yacht Society, only $25) I received quotes from both companies for our family at roughly $1,800 per year (Reside) and $1,500 per year (Lifeboat), with a $5K deductible. These companies are attuned to the needs of folks of all nationalities living and travelling all over the world.

Just based on blogs I've read, I suspect there are cruisers, and even cruising families, who do not carry health care insurance of any kind. For all of my adult life it would have seemed an insane proposition: considering whether or not to maintain health insurance. Even in the early stages of planning for this lifestyle change, we assumed we'd budget for the premiums of high-deductible private health insurance (often referred to in the industry as a catastrophic plan).

But I am no longer certain we will purchase conventional health insurance, perhaps at least not right away, perhaps not for the time we are in Mexico and have access to excellent care for very low cost. What we may decide to do is to remain uninsured while in Mexico, and purchase high-deductible international coverage when we leave. (The only hitch I imagine is whether a gap in coverage will present a problem when re-entering the market.)

Too, cruisers are a self-sufficient lot, often because we have to be. If you are anchored on a remote spot in the Sea of Cortez, you will address a whole range of injuries yourself that you would not think to address in a land-based U.S. life, simply because neither an ambulance nor a drive to the hospital is an option. Windy completed a comprehensive National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) First Responder course last year and she is busy putting together a comprehensive medical kit, complete with prescription antibiotics and painkillers.

Additional thoughts on addressing health care as we prepare to move aboard:

• Another consideration is the period of time between quitting my job and crossing the border into Mexico. During that time, we will be doing a lot of driving and I may be able to increase the coverage for accident medical insurance on our auto policy.



http://www.diversalertnetwork.org/



• What also warrants mention is the emergency medical evacuation insurance that Divers Alert Network (DAN) provides for a nominal annual fee ($55 per year for a family). They have a stellar reputation for repatriating insureds in the event of medical trauma (emergency medical evacuation). Joining this network is on our list of things to do before we leave.


• While advances in health care technology and knowledge in the United States are impressive, I think that the system under which that technology and knowledge are administered is messed up. First, for lack of tort reform in this country, the threat of litigation forces doctors to increase the number of interventions. No matter how advanced those interventions are, they are often generally counterproductive when they are unnecessary. In 2007, I wrote about this phenomenon (that is not me in the picture) in Mothering magazine with respect to pregnancy and our decision to home birth our girls. Furthermore, unnecessary interventions increase the cost of health care, along with the high cost of premiums doctors pay to insure themselves against litigation. These self-perpetuating factors are the reason our health care costs are the highest in the world. And because they are the highest in the world, all non-U.S. based companies that provide coverage throughout the globe, restrict access to care in only one country: ours.

--MR

Things I Will Miss: Homeschooling in D.C. By Windy

Eleanor and her friend Ally
at the Kennedy Center

Our decision for me to quit working two years before leaving was one of the best decisions we've ever made. Even though it was an unneeded strain on our money-saving ambitions, it gave me a new perspective of D.C. and introduced me to a group of other homeschooling parents whose company, support, and inspiration I have enjoyed immensely.

I wouldn't know the city like I now do had I stayed in the workaday world. The girls and I have explored it together during the past two years, all of its nooks and crannies. As a die-hard Californian, I have come to appreciate D.C. because it's a truly international city, because of the fantastic museums, because the local government doesn't meddle too much in the affairs of homeschoolers, because of the excellent (and forgiving) public library system, because we can trek down and watch the inauguration of the first African American president, because we can walk a few blocks and stand on the mound where Lincoln came under fire, because of great public transportation, because the great outdoors runs through the middle of the city (Rock Creek Park), because it's a short drive to family-run farms, the beach, and the mountains.



Our D.C. homeschooling co-op

To top it all off, so much of what we do here is FREE (or very inexpensive, American taxpayers, I am deeply grateful). Last year I took Eleanor and her good friend Ally out for an elegant evening at the Kennedy Center to see They Might Be Giants. Total cost: $5 for the train ride, round trip.   We regularly cavort in the shadow of Teddy Roosevelt's Stalinesque statue on Roosevelt Island. (Aside from the monument, Roosevelt Island is a green pocket of wildness, surrounded by the waters of the Potomac River. We love Roosevelt Island). Total cost of each trip: $2 in fuel. When our homeschooling co-op met at the National Zoo, the cost was $5 for the the train. The museums, the monuments, the Supreme Court, the Capitol: all free. These things I will miss.

Eleanor at Calvert Cliffs State Park

Finally, we enjoy all of this in the company of a growing population of homeschoolers, many of whom, over the last couple of years, have become close friends to my daughters and me. Though these families came to homeschooling for a variety of reasons, they remind me of the cruising community in their pursuit of a lifestyle that bucks convention and sacrifices monetary gain (which is really another way of bucking convention, I suppose). Lately I find myself imagining, not wishing, but imagining our life continuing as it is today. I imagine the girls growing up with these amazing kids who are their friends. I imagine years down the line, sitting with the same parents I sat with today, sharing our misgivings and our triumphs. It would be a good life. The problem is that it doesn't include Mike, not enough of him at least. And we can't have both because D.C., aside from all of the recreational opportunities I mentioned, is a costly place to live. Most families here live on two incomes. We are fortunate that we can live on Mike's income alone.

I'm painfully aware that the decision to move onto a boat with our kids is a compromise. We hope to gain much, but we will lose much in the process. In all likelihood, we will leave D.C. and not return. We have a lot to miss.

--WR

P.S. Here are two articles written by a friend and fellow D.C. homeschooler about homeschooling in D.C.: Part 1 and Part 2 (I'm quoted in this one)

Winter at Roosevelt Island



Packing up Christmas

This year was our 10th and last Christmas in our D.C. home. It's hard to believe. Our tree for next year is roughly 11 inches tall and is already aboard Del Viento, waiting for us.

Enjoying our "Last Christmas"



Bye bye beautiful plastic tree!



We'll bring the stockings and decorations Grandma Frances made



Three whole FoodSaver bags full!

First Christmas By Windy

Eleanor and our tree

These days it seems everything is our last. Our fireplace mantle is graced with holiday cards, many inscribed somewhere with "final" or "last." We've had last birthdays and a last Halloween, a last Thanksgiving and now our last Christmas.

Weeks ago our tree became the subject of a battle between practicality and sentimentality. Mike wanted to sell the eight-foot plastic behemoth before Christmas (out-of-town neighbors offered us theirs). Eleanor was appalled at the potential tragedy of selling our tree--and on this, our last Christmas! Sentimentality triumphed.

This year Mike and I were thinking journals for gifts, not bicycles. The dearth of gifts under the tree caused Eleanor anxiety--she could do the math: three small wrapped presents divided by four family members equals Worst Christmas Ever. (We're working with her on the true meaning of Christmas.)

This Christmas was decidedly more spare. That is not to say we didn't receive plenty of generous gifts. Family and friends thoughtfully gave consumables (gift cards, tasty treats, cash) or portables (DVDs, Chico Bags). Donations were made to charities in the girls' names. We received two lovely handmade calendars. (Laura made hers extra small to fit nicely on a boat's bulkhead. Amy Jo considered ending her calendar in May, symbolizing our upcoming departure.)

With our lives shrouded in finality, I find significance in once pedestrian activities like going to a park. Casual gatherings with friends are often poignant, and holidays have an added layer of complexity. Interestingly, the Worst Christmas Ever was one of the best. Maybe it was due to an exaggerated appreciation for what we have, or maybe it was because it was short on material goods and long on time together. Perhaps this christmas is a harbinger of future Christmases. Perhaps this is not a last Christmas after all, but a first Christmas.

--WR

Moocher

A while back, Windy found an excellent book swapping site called BookMooch. It’s literally that, a book swapping site. Not a dime changes hands (except between you and the post office). In short, you get a point for sending someone a book they request, and you lose a point when you request a book from someone. It is very cool, kind of like a babysitting co-op. You also get 1/10^th of a point for each book you list and 1/10^th of a point everytime you leave feedback for someone who sends you a book. If you send a book outside of the U.S., you get three points (and you lose three points when you mooch a book from overseas).

I don’t know how we accumulated the hundreds and hundreds of books we did, but we can’t take them with us on the boat, so I’ve been slowly getting rid of them over the past couple years. Everytime I’ve come up with a stack I am ready to part with, I list on Amazon those that are worth something, and give the rest away. Since discovering BookMooch, I’ve allowed folks to mooch about two dozen books I’d have given away. It’s gratifying to send these books to those who are eager to read them. Tomorrow a paperback copy of Thoreau’s Walden heads to Greece and Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men is off to Canada.

Many of my sailing books have already been mooched, but I still have titles available from the Pardeys, the Roths, and Tania Aebi—mooch ‘em quick.

--MR

Why The Radical Life Change?

In early 2006, after our second daughter, Frances, was born, I had the mother of all epiphanies: we should quit our jobs, sell everything, buy a boat, and sail around the world. It took Windy about 2 seconds to agree. Within five minutes, we'd launched the five-year plan that is now wrapping up.

At the time I was reading All in the Same Boat by Tom Neale. In the book he describes the past 20 years of his family's life, cruising up and down the eastern seaboard, following the seasons from Maine to the Bahamas. Both the Neale girls were raised aboard and seemed to turn out to be respectable young women. I had two girls and I liked boats; it was easy to imagine myself in that life...

Now, to put this into perspective, Windy and I have been cruising before. In fact, it’s how we met. In 1996 I lived aboard a Newport 27 in Ventura, California and signed Windy on as my sole crew for a 7-month trip to Key West, via the Panama Canal (SAIL magazine published an article I wrote about this trip in their November 2007 issue). We had the time of our lives and dreamed of cruising again, someday. Of course, we would first settle down, buy a house, start a family, contribute to IRAs and 401Ks, join the neighborhood association, attend Back-to-School night, and hopefully take two weeks off each of the next twenty years to vacation. Eventually, our kids would get out on their own, we’d help pay for college, maybe a couple of weddings, and then buy a boat to pursue our cruising ambitions. This script was tried and true, the American Dream. So what happened?

On that March day in 2006, I realized an alternative might be more satisfying to us both. We’d grown up, gone to college, found careers, bought our first house, and made a family. All that appeared on the horizon was more of the same. Bigger house? Nicer car? Better vacations? More responsibility at work? For the next 30 years?

1. Wake up.
2. Go to work.
3. Eat dinner.
4. Return to Step 1.

I know that I’m painting a bleak, over-simplified picture, ignoring about a million factors that make our life pretty damn good by conventional measures, but it just isn’t enough. The primary shortcoming is that we are not living together. We are all under the same roof, but pulled in too many directions by economic and societal demands to be really living together.

Until December 2008, we were a two-income family. This meant that we dispersed every morning to live distinct lives. Windy to work, check. Frances down the street to daycare, check. Eleanor to school downtown, check. Michael to work, check. In their early years, most of the impressions that our girls were forming, the synapses they were making, were happening in our absence. Despite the second-mother-like daycare situation for Frances, and a safe, caring school environment for Eleanor, this situation was not sustainable for Windy. Her decision to end her career at National Geographic was an easy one. Because our cruising plans were by then in full swing, I was against her decision. "Stick it out." I argued, "We are leaving soon." It did not make financial sense to scrape by on one income at a time when we were trying to save as much as we could.

Since losing that battle, I have seen (in the 5-or-so waking hours I am with my family each day) a steady transformation in her as a parent. Her relationship with our girls and her parenting experiences mean everything to her. I no longer doubt the wisdom of her choice; I am grateful to her for making it. I am grateful for the direct, immediate, and tailored attention she offers Eleanor and Frances, all day long. We are both pleased with this outcome for their sake. 

But that still leaves me. While I have a good job and I work with many sharp, interesting people from all over the world, I'm not doing work that interests me. My job is not satisfying physically nor intellectually. I am not driven in any way to do what I do. Rather, it is a well-paying job that I do well, but which keeps me away from my family for the bulk of my waking hours. In fact, whole days go by where I leave for the office before anybody is awake, and return after the girls are back in bed--their little heads filled and expanded with new experiences and associations that do not include me.

Surprisingly, this is not intolerable. Maybe it's because I am a guy, because I'm wired differently? Maybe it's because I am not missing what I have not yet been able to know? However tolerable, it seems wrong. Too, it leaves me feeling guilty for those hours I steal away for myself, whether it is work that has to be done on the house or reading and writing that I want to do. How can I have so little time available for my girls and not spend every minute of that time with them? My justification is that they need to see me engaged in my own pursuits. They need parents who attend to self interests and who model the adult behaviors we want them to emulate. Today, Windy is able to offer both. I am not.

It is a problem of lack of time, the bane of families everywhere. My epiphany on that March day suggests a solution to this problem. In cruising, we envision the opportunity to spend nearly all of our time together. We could accomplish the same ends by selling everything and buying outright a small house or trailer in a small town in North Dakota or Mississippi. But in addition to togetherness, cruising offers a rich and varied life for a cost that is less than the U.S. poverty level for a family of four ($22,050 in 2010).     

So, we’re trying something new and radical, we'll see how it goes. We can always come back and rejoin this race, or find yet another path.

--MR

Things We Will Miss: The Price-Bleimehls

With daughters the same age as ours, we've shared many milestones and adventures and margaritas with them. Dozens of birthdays, many Easter egg hunts in their backyard, clothes and shoes and toys perpetually co-mingled between our homes, sleepovers galore, and hundreds of good meals.

Every October they watched our girls while we spent 12-hour days at the boat show.

They adopted our chickens, our cats are going to be theirs, and they even offered months ago to provide care for our aged and much loved, but smelly and sometimes incontinent dog Honey--just to help us out. What can we say? Leaving this family is going to suck...

--WR & MR

Empty Nest

Adorable Jewel

A few weeks ago our house swarmed with life. It practically bulged with the sounds, sights, and smells of two kids, a dog, two cats, ten tadpoles, two chickens, and at least twenty monarch caterpillars.

This morning it is quiet. The girls and cats are asleep. The tadpoles turned frog and are on Roosevelt Island, busily gobbling bugs and looking for protected places to hibernate. The caterpillars sprouted gorgeous wings and flew away (we'll meet up with them in Mexico!). The chickens moved across the alley to live with our good friends Jana and Shawn. And the dog, Honey, even she's gone.

Honey

We didn't expect Honey to live to sixteen, yet somehow we also didn't expect her to ever die. For years Mike has been saying, "What about Honey?" For about three years I said, "Don't worry, there's no chance she'll be around when it's time to leave. She's so old. She's so big." But over time I began to question our situation myself.

Over the past few years Honey had had two strokes and one strange period of several days, probably also some sort of stroke, where she lay, unmoving in her bed. (Mike and the girls were away and I feared she'd die and they'd return to bad news.) Yet, for all of these strokes--each time I absolutely knew it was the end--she recovered. In fact, for a dog in her teens she recovered brilliantly.

So it was a surprise when, on a day like any other, with no signs of infirmity, she quietly passed away. And it was sad. I felt no sense of relief, just loss. The girls and I cuddled up and we read The Tenth Good Thing About Barney, which a friend loaned us.

A while back I wrote about our pets and our tentative plans for them as we transition to the boat life. Seemingly overnight our pet predicament is resolved. Even the cats, that we will keep until just before we leave, have a good home waiting for them with Jana and Shawn.

Mexico Bound

Our home is getting quieter. The early morning sounds of clucking hens and the clicking of nails on hardwood floors are gone, soon to be replaced by the creaking sounds of our old boat and the gentle slap of water against her hull.

--WR







Can't Escape Our Destiny

What is it with these fortune cookies? This is Frances's fortune from a DC restaurant tonight.
--MR

Getting Ready for the Big Life Change

This week we sent picture cards to friends, family, and acquaintances. This picture card is a formal announcement of the new 25,000-pound member of our family sitting in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
While we’ve talked about our "big life change" plans with many over the past 5 years, we’ve largely kept it behind the scenes and many are unaware. (Even people to whom we mentioned it early on, have forgotten, or doubted us!)
We are eager to keep in touch with the people who have been a part of our lives as dirt dwellers: friends, distant relatives, family, neighbors, and passersby. Hopefully this blog will help us to do that, to some extent, no matter where we are in the world.

So, you've found our blog, book mark it! Come with us, virtually. Totally upending our lives and doing something that is contrary to all conventional wisdom (and totally insane from a financial best interests standpoint) ain't easy, but it is surely going to make for good tales. You will find them here.
Of course, before the craziness can begin, we have a lot to do over the next many months. It seems as though nearly every aspect of our lives is geared towards getting ready. Time is flying by. Over the past few of weeks: 

·         We met with and hired our real estate agent for next spring’s sale.

·         We had a consultation with a designer recommended by our agent. (Life lesson: do this before spending 10 years in a home, not months before you move.)

·         I am organizing and moving digital media (pictures, videos, documents) to online storage so that we can sell our desktop computer/monitor and buy a second laptop.

·         I am learning everything I can about our Yanmar 4JH-TE motor so that I know what spares to buy and bring. (Just purchased a $42 impeller!)

·         Windy is getting ready for her December trip to Puerto Vallarta to check on the boat and take a million more measurements and pictures.

·         We are both making lists and otherwise planning for the 3 consecutive days we will spend at the U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis this week. (Most common question from sailing neophytes: “Why are you going to the boat show if you already bought a boat?”)

·         I am prioritizing all of my house-prep work to those things that need to be done before we paint, so that we can paint sooner and enjoy the new paint for longer.

·         I installed new struts and springs on the back of the car last week, in preparation for the trailer and extra load we will carry on our big road trip to the boat after the house sells (will do the front soon).

·         Windy is digitizing all of our contacts (she is eager to toss the well-worn physical address book, we compromised that she will keep it in a drawer for 3 months to see how her new system works out).

·         Windy is sorting through the dozens hundreds of kid books to eliminate what is no longer age-appropriate.

·         I bought several heavy-duty, watertight, ice-chest-sized plastic containers into which we are beginning to put those things that will be going to the boat, and that we will not need until we get on the boat (boat show purchases, spare parts, winter clothes after winter, etc).

·         We sold our massive computer armoire and put in place a small corner table for the office.

·         Windy is working on a categorized, master list of things to do and buy (A=essentials, B=important, C=future project).

·         I cleared out and re-seeded the front and back lawns last week so that when the house is on the market in the spring, it will have the nicest lawn for miles.

It feels good to be organizing and lightening our load, less stuff. But at the same time, we are in consumer mode too, generating a long list of purchases necessary to transition to the new life—this in spite of our joint resolve to not get caught up in the frenzy of marketing to boat owners that demands we spend every penny we have to ensure we bring the comforts of land life aboard and that we are insulated from every calamity, however unlikely.

Life changes this big require lots of getting ready. It's a process we've been involved in for the past 5 years, but which is now accelerating.

--MR