When Ty and I first talked about moving onto Vicky, he warned me that winters on a boat are hard. And by hard, what he really meant was cold. A boat is half submerged in water, which is cold, so the floor and walls never warm up. And no matter how hard you try to seal up windows and hatches, something is always dripping. But no matter what Ty said,
I, being stubborn, contrary, and thinking
too highly of myself, scoffed at his warnings and insisted I’d be just fine. So in August -- when Seattle is sunny and 75 degrees every day -- I packed up most of my belongings and moved onto Vicky.
Last weekend, we had our first cold snap of the winter. In one day, the temperature dropped from the
fifties to below freezing, and the following morning we woke up to a nice layer
of snow. From the warm V-berth, the snow
looked lovely, but then I ventured out to use the facilities to discover the
dock and ramp covered in slippery ice.
We spent the next three days nursing hot beverages and
shoving each other over to get closer to the small space heater we use to heat the cabin. And
it didn’t take long for me to admit to Ty that he was right – winters on a boat
are hard.
But, in my limited experience, I can also say that living on a boat in winter also offers many things that cozy apartment living doesn’t. I now realize how terrible it is that our society allows anybody to live on the street and see homelessness for what it is -- a tragedy. If winter on a boat is hard, winter living outside, with only cardboard and emergency blankets to keep you warm, would truly be torture. I am also keenly aware of the power of nature and my place in it, which is to say that I am humbled and respectful of our earth and her weather cycles. On an afternoon walk to the hardware store for salt to de-ice the ramp to the dock, we found ourselves in awe of delicate, sparkling ice formations on the chain link fence around the parking lot.
Being on Vicky in the winter has also made me appreciate simple things like never before... when there's enough fuel in the stove for making dinner, holding and drinking hot beverages, slipping on a fresh pair of wool socks, a functioning space heater...
and last but not least, Ty's companionship. No matter how cold it gets on Vicky, Ty can always make me laugh (cue gorilla impression) and realize that our little life is not that far from perfect.
But, in my limited experience, I can also say that living on a boat in winter also offers many things that cozy apartment living doesn’t. I now realize how terrible it is that our society allows anybody to live on the street and see homelessness for what it is -- a tragedy. If winter on a boat is hard, winter living outside, with only cardboard and emergency blankets to keep you warm, would truly be torture. I am also keenly aware of the power of nature and my place in it, which is to say that I am humbled and respectful of our earth and her weather cycles. On an afternoon walk to the hardware store for salt to de-ice the ramp to the dock, we found ourselves in awe of delicate, sparkling ice formations on the chain link fence around the parking lot.
Being on Vicky in the winter has also made me appreciate simple things like never before... when there's enough fuel in the stove for making dinner, holding and drinking hot beverages, slipping on a fresh pair of wool socks, a functioning space heater...
and last but not least, Ty's companionship. No matter how cold it gets on Vicky, Ty can always make me laugh (cue gorilla impression) and realize that our little life is not that far from perfect.
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