If I would have just stuck on the normal career path, got a regular job and a house in the suburbs with a little sailboat on a trailer in the driveway, I might have done a lot more sailing than I have by now.
But I wanted much, much more than that.
I’ve experienced the corporate world; even gave it a go a couple times. I know how miserable I was and how entangled I got. There are so many little decisions and assumptions in living a “normal” life. The stakes seemed so low but they couldn’t have been higher. It’s a nefarious bargain and an insidious trap. Those unexamined choices can smother a real dream like a heavy, wet blanket.
After drudging through the week, I know how difficult it would have been just to sneak off on the driveway boat. I know the cacophony of career and suburbia that drowns out the quiet voice of aspiration. I’ve experienced some of that just being back in Michigan for a time.
When I was 12 or 13 years old, some family friends took us out sailing on a much bigger boat than ours. When we climbed aboard their boat for a quick tour, Mom and I ended up down the companionway into the boat’s cabin about the same time. She used to love to tell the story of my wide-eyed reaction – even in the relatively spartan cabin of a 1970s production sailboat.
“You could … could LIVE in here,” I exclaimed!
That moment literally changed my life. I wasn’t always directed toward that goal, but the freedom that beckoned – a freedom that I had yet to experience – was always resting in the nooks and crannies of my mind.
After going through a second divorce, more ugly than the first, the “plan” came roaring back to life. I quit my “career” job, cashed out my 401(k), sold my furniture, and bought an old sailboat. Of course, I didn’t know what I was doing. I had read many books about the adventures, but literally none about finding, inspecting, and buying a worthy boat.
Sixteen years and four boats later, I made it on to the water aboard Ruth Ann, a Bayfield 29. She is a small and cozy, but I can handle her on my own. We spent summers in the Carolinas and winters in Florida. There was amazing wildlife and interesting new friends. We did some slogging up and down the ICW and did some amazing, soul-enriching coastal sailing offshore. Even several nights, at different times, with the anchor line stretched taut in winds over 50 MPH, I was in my happy place.
The triumph of my years of struggle and boatwork was the freedom. Living aboard Ruth Ann, I had no home base, no car, and very few bills. There were many nights when it was just me and my boat up some little creek with no one around but Mother Nature. We also spent time in anchorages near a town. I had to reprovision occasionally of course, and I stopped to work a couple times. And there was the ever present community of fellow sailors and dear friends. I was free to choose to be on my own or with people. Moreover, I had found my place in the universe. I was finally doing what I had always wanted to do. It was glorious, it enriched me, and there were friends who could see it too:
Check out my friends The Sail Bums on all the socials or at a beach bar near you.
After pushing my luck to the limit, and trying a few projects for income, I had gotten into a pinch and had come back to Michigan to make some money and be with the family. It has been wonderful to reconnect with family and friends, but I was not where I wanted to be. My return was always in the plan and it kept me sane through the winter. Try as I might, I really REALLY hate the snow and cold.
The time is very close now. After finishing up the sails I’m building and cleaning up the space I’ve been living in, I’ll be on my way back to Ruth Ann. I would never have made it this far without the love and support of my family; and a few friends along the way. I am relieved and excited to be starting the final stages of my return to the ocean!
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Driveway boat image stolen from here.
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