Remember that time when I said that I never wanted to live aboard a sailboat during a Pacific Northwest winter? You know, that time I said that people would have to be a certain kind of crazy to live on a boat during the winter; especially an uninsulated sailboat in the Pacific Northwest during what is our rainy season? Yeah, all the minor gods and goddesses remember that too. And they’ve decided to thwart me good. Be careful what you say out loud. That’s right. We’re getting ready to move aboard. And it might be 90F now, but the rain is just around the corner.

Soon, this will be ‘home’.

This weekend marks the beginning of the final transition from full time land house dwellers to full time liveaboards. Do you notice how we rarely do anything really fast? There is none of this ‘today I live here tomorrow I live there’ nonsense. Instead we have multiple divisions of time that describe the excruciatingly slow process that is unfolding. First there is the transition into the liminal space, then there is the liminal space itself; a time of pupating, almost gestating as it were. Then there is the beginning of the end of the liminal space and now it’s the beginning of the transition into the ending. We are literally beginning to end our land life. It’s bloody exhausting even to write about it, much less to live it. It makes me think that people who just throw everything away, buy a boat down someplace warm without even seeing it, and then go to that place and never look back know something we don’t know.

Regardless of tortuous divisions of time today is the day our son, Andrew and Jill are coming to live in the family home. They will get jobs and start their post-graduation life here in Tacoma. (Blatant advertising for Andrew, who finished up his GIS certification this summer and is looking for a job, hopefully in Tacoma or Olympia. Know anyone who knows anyone? He’s smart, plays well with others, and eager to get started in the world.)

This will free us up to spend most of our time aboard Galapagos while still having access to the house and the dog and other important things like the washer and dryer and the occasional land sleepover. If this works out for everyone it will allow our Skippy dog to live his life in his yard with his family, and will allow us to keep the house until we are sure we want to sell it. We are seriously crossing our fingers.

We won’t be full time liveaboards right away. There is another young couple moving in with Andrew and Jill in November. That’s what makes this place affordable for people just starting out. Until then we’ll be going back and forth from the house to the boat, but spending most of the weekends at the marina. So yeah, we will be moving aboard right as winter is upon us. We must be out of our minds.

I’m not going to lie; it’s a wierd and unsettling time. It’s hard to be excited and sad at the same time. One minute I’m looking forward to the adventure, the next minute I’m wanting the familiar comfort of our home of 16 years. Even though I’m long past wanting to work in that yard, some days I just go a bit numb so I don’t have to feel anything much at all. What a strange and wild time this is.

But onward! This last year of our plan is flying by. We have a very long list of things to accomplish between now and next spring. But this time next year we should be on our way to Mexico!