Living Aboard a Boat Ramblings From the Dockside

There's No Place Like Home (Even When It Feels Too Small)

Thursday, February 05, 2015S.V. CAMBRIA


I didn’t advertise the fact.  It would have like hanging a sign in Cambria’s window that read, “Come on aboard.  There’s nobody here to stop you.”  But on a cold winter’s morning back in December, we packed up our truck and boarded a ferry that took us across Puget Sound and on a 1900-mile road journey to Kansas where we spent the holidays with our family, stretching our legs (along with most of our personal belongings) for two months.

It was pure bliss.

If, that is, you ignore the two weeks we were down with the flu.  The cold. The snow.  And the ice.  Or the fact that there isn’t an ocean within 600 miles.

Which we do because there’s a lot more to Wichita, Kansas than viral outbreaks and the weather.  There’s also my family . . . and WSU basketball.  But we can only take over my mom’s house for so long and it was time for us to make our way back to Cambria 


After another brutal 1900-mile journey that turned into 2000 miles so we could avoid one final mountain range and the possibility of snow (something we were desperate to steer clear of after having just slogged through Western Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and Oregon in the freezing rain and snow), we stepped aboard Cambria for the first time in almost two months.  It wasn’t the welcome we hoped for or would have ideally wanted, but it is the one we expected: a boat torn apart, smelly and green from two months of being unattended and closed shut. 

After spending so much time on land walking around freely and stretching our legs (as well as our belongings), it feels cramped in here.  Too cramped.  We know that will change in time, but the first days as are always the hardest. 

And then there’s the long list of things we need to do before the cruising season starts eight short weeks: plan our route to Alaska, make reservations to visit Glacier Bay, clean and seal the decks with teak oil, clean the mildew that’s made it’s home on the underside of the cockpit canvas, provision, finish the headliner project, service the outboard motors, administer some TLC to the dinghy and on and on and on.  But the list will have to wait.  Right now we have to address the elephant in the room – the piles and piles of junk we took off the boat for our trip that now needs to be put back. 

It’s a little overwhelming to say the least.

I’m tired.  It’s difficult not to be.  I’ve been awake since 3:00 this morning and wasn’t able to get back to sleep in this place that now feels strange – albeit temporarily.  The sound of the rain hitting the cabin top, waking me only slightly at first but inviting the list of all the things I need to do into my consciousness.

So, here I am.  No closer to accomplishing these tasks or feeling any less daunted by them now that I’m up, simply wondering . . .

Where did the time go?

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