on fits and starts.

Where to begin. I suppose the beginning is fine. It certainly gives the clearest picture of how we ended up here. And by here, I mean Racine.

We left on the night of August 10. Just Josh and myself after a long few days of preparing. We had been been home for a few days after Josh's brother's wedding and left Fozel there with my mom and Josh's parents to care for and meet up with us in Michigan. The plan had been simple. Josh and i would go up to the boat, stow all the gear we still had to drag from the condo, make some last minute adjustments, and of course, actually launch the boat. We were really hustling. But Sara and Allen came up on Tuesday and after Interlude was splashed, it all sort of happened. I should have been worried about the amount of time it took for Josh to get the engine going, but I figured, "hey, it's been up all winter, I wouldn't like to be forced to start after enduring that winter weather either." The truth is that I had enough to focus on. In any case, we both sort of ignored it.

Fast-foward to Thursday. We successfully motor sailed across the lake. We did some sailing but used the engine for more than half. It wasn't perfect wind conditions, but nothing terrible. And all was calm. We stood our watches, we slept, we ate protein bars and listened to podcasts between scanning the horizon and checking the autopilot and AIS system. We arrived safely in Muskegon around noon. Paul and Ginger met us shortly thereafter with Fozel. We hooked up to shore power, we stowed the sails and all our stuff and then we departed for the afternoon. Nothing was amiss.

Friday morning we decided to move marinas. We had been at Pointe Marine. It was fine. Sparse and they told us not to drink the spigot water. Whatever. Fine. But it was further from where Ginger and Paul would be camping that night than we'd like, so we were lucky enough to secure space at the dock at the campground. Turns out if you're camping there, you are eligible to tie up a boat at their dock, free of charge. It was buggy and didn't have any hook ups, but for one night, we didn't care!

We stayed one mosquito filled night then untied and set off to get a bit of diesel before leaving for Mackinaw. That's when we had a bit of trouble. The engine was less than thrilled to start. It was like it didn't even want to turn over. Okay. Whatever. It started.

After 6 hours of Fozel napping (um, I'm thinking that may be a seasickness symptom?) and us making very little headway north on our sail to Mackinaw, we gave up. We started the reluctant engine and pulled into White Lake, the next stop up the coast. We opted to anchor for the very first time, which was successful. It was extremely protected waters and there was no chop. I had some trouble getting the stove started so cold dinner it was. We sat in the cockpit and snuggled. It was a nice calm night.

I should also mention we didn't run any electronics that night. So it was a mystery why the battery bank was showing such low voltage. Luckily, after some coaxing and using a battery jumper box (a box you plug in that would be able to jump your car battery in an emergency) it started. It was problematic enough to give us both pause. So, it being a Sunday, of course nothing was open in the sleepy little town of Whitehall on White Lake. We motored over to South Shore Marina. Whitehall is part adorable little Michigan town, part sleazy town. The hotels were either sky high or super sketchy. Ginger and Paul stayed there that night in a $60/night hell hole. Oh well. 

So Paul and Josh got to work while Fozel and Ginger and I found a laundry mat, food, and a park. We killed a few hours while the did some trouble shooting. They thought it was the alternator and swapped out the faulty one with the extra we had and tried to take it to an Auto Zone to have it tested. No go. They were no help. We did get the name of a marine guy who would be open on Monday and might take a look. Cool. We stayed at the marina Sunday night then called the guy, dropped off the alternator and wasted the rest of the day. He told us it would be ready the next morning. We moved to a marina closer to the hotel, had the best ice cream bar of my life, and went out for pizza where Fozel met his first girlfriend, Brooklyn. She was a cute little 8 year old who allowed him to play with her giant fire engine. 

The next phase of the plan was to leave Fozel with grandma and poppa and sail to the next port, Pentwater, where they'd meet us with the fixed alternator, have dinner, then sail on to Detroit. I would sail with Josh until that point and then I'd drive back to our parents' to celebrate Fozel's birthday and then he and I would fly to meet Josh, who would be to Buffalo New York by then. So, Tuesday morning, we did it. We headed out, and made it to Pentwater. This town is much cuter but they charge an exorbitant amount to tie up for a few hours to go ashore to have dinner. It was like $16 for 3 hours. I'm sorry but, huh??

All goes well and we sail off from Pentwater around 9 and start standing watches pretty much right away. 3 hours on--scanning the horizon, hand steering, listening to podcasts, etc. Then three hours of rest. I have a hard time sleeping such short stints but it worked. We drank lots of water and ate too many protein bars. Around 11 am, the watch was changing. Josh thought we should fire up the engine to charge the batteries. It didn't work. Around this time the wind was dying and we were being bit by flies every 5 minutes. Oh, and did I mention we were in the middle of the lake? Equidistant from Sturgeon Bay, WI and Traverse City, MI. 

And then we broke. It had been a grueling week. New places, strange sleeping hours, stressful situations. We decided to take a step back. We would sail to Sturgeon Bay, take a few days to wait out the coming weather, and sail back to Racine. And here we are. We're calling it our shakedown cruise and regrouping. There were a few projects we had delayed and are now working on. We are here in Racine for the next month and will reassess at that point. We hope to try again this fall, but if not, we will try again in the spring. Everything is fluid at this point. We're just trying to move forward and know that shaking it off is the best way. I'm having a hard time not thinking of it as a failure, but if cruising was easy, everyone would do it.

did you know

Stumbled across this posting on a tumblr site I follow and couldn't resist sharing with you. Being so young and now undertaking this journey with a baby, we certainly feel the dismay of those around us when we tell them our plan. But we feel it's important that each of us follow our own path. Maybe it's not for you. And that's fine. We don't begrudge you that. It is, however what we feel strongly about. Something we feel we need to do for our own satisfaction. Enjoy. This pretty much says it all.

"Did you know, you can quit your job, you can leave university? You aren’t legally required to have a degree, it’s a social pressure and expectation, not the law, and no one is holding a gun to your head. You can sell your house, you can give up your apartment, you can even sell your vehicle, and your things that are mostly unnecessary. You can see the world on a minimum wage salary, despite the persisting myth, you do not need a high paying job. You can leave your friends (if they’re true friends they’ll forgive you, and you’ll still be friends) and make new ones on the road. You can leave your family. You can depart from your hometown, your country, your culture, and everything you know. You can sacrifice. You can give up your $5.00 a cup morning coffee, you can give up air conditioning, frequent consumption of new products. You can give up eating out at restaurants and prepare affordable meals at home, and eat the leftovers too, instead of throwing them away. You can give up cable TV, Internet even. This list is endless. You can sacrifice climbing up in the hierarchy of careers. You can buck tradition and others’ expectations of you. You can triumph over your fears, by conquering your mind. You can take risks. And most of all, you can travel. You just don’t want it enough. You want a degree or a well-paying job or to stay in your comfort zone more. This is fine, if it’s what your heart desires most, but please don’t envy me and tell me you can’t travel. You’re not in a famine, in a desert, in a third world country, with five malnourished children to feed. You probably live in a first world country. You have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. You probably own luxuries like a cellphone and a computer. You can afford the $3.00 a night guest houses of India, the $0.10 fresh baked breakfasts of Morocco, because if you can afford to live in a first world country, you can certainly afford to travel in third world countries, you can probably even afford to travel in a first world country. So please say to me, “I want to travel, but other things are more important to me and I’m putting them first”, not, “I’m dying to travel, but I can’t”, because I have yet to have someone say they can’t, who truly can’t. You can, however, only live once, and for me, the enrichment of the soul that comes from seeing the world is worth more than a degree that could bring me in a bigger paycheck, or material wealth, or pleasing society. Of course, you must choose for yourself, follow your heart’s truest desires, but know that you can travel, you’re only making excuses for why you can’t. And if it makes any difference, I have never met anyone who has quit their job, left school, given up their life at home, to see the world, and regretted it. None. Only people who have grown old and regretted never traveling, who have regretted focusing too much on money and superficial success, who have realized too late that there is so much more to living than this."

Via Wunderkammer

This. Every single thing about this. It falls in line with our beliefs as travelers and wanderers. This is the life we want to give to our child. A life free from the trappings of things and the need to "fit in" with the norms of our American society. The most interesting people you'll ever meet are the ones who take that leap. Who trust in themselves and the wholeness and beauty of the world surrounding them. Who never, for one second doubt that there is more to living than what society tells us we should want for ourselves. Who experience the culture of others, who nurture a spirit of humanity and soak up every new opportunity given to them. That. That is what living is. We just can't wait to see the world and show it to our little one in this way.

elbow room.

Living on a boat is like living in a doll house. Every single space is small and even if you're only 5'5 like me, you feel like Andre the Giant—knocking your head when you climb out of bed is commonplace, the shower causes more tingling from hitting your funny bone than a comedian, the library is teeny tiny, and you'll miss the kitchen if you blink. It will provide a challenge.

Two people, on a boat our size can probably handle it. Interlude has a decent beam (which means her width from port to starboard) but after maneuvering around each other last weekend and the promise of plenty of visitors in the future makes me a little nervous. Maybe I should learn to be a contortionist and lose a few pounds or invest in a helmet to avoid concussions (seriously, last weekend, I knocked my head no less than 6 times)?