The Unvarnished Truth

Navigating the Quirks of our Floating Home

Up until now, our blog has been filled with the sun-drenched joys of new adventures and the heartwarming reunions with family. And while those moments have been undeniably wonderful, as we settle into our seventh night here in Eastbourne, with just one more before our Dover departure, it feels like time for a little peek behind the idyllic Instagram filter. Life aboard Halcyon Sea, while brimming with excitement, also comes with its own unique set of realities – a charming (and sometimes bruising) adjustment to our new floating existence.

Let's start with the obvious: space. Or rather, the delightful lack thereof compared to our former land-based abode. Suddenly, doorways have become treacherous obstacles, each one a narrow portal waiting to ambush unsuspecting limbs. Tracey, in particular, is sporting a rather impressive collection of nautical-themed bruises, a testament to our daily dance of trying to navigate the boat without constantly colliding. This close proximity can occasionally lead to moments of… let's call it "heightened communication" when we both simultaneously require the same minuscule patch of saloon floor.

Even seemingly simple tasks have taken on a whole new level of complexity. Take, for instance, the daily ritual of making our bed. What was once a mindless routine now feels like an Olympic sport. We can't exactly stroll around our mattress, and the fact that it's conveniently split in two (a design feature, we're told!) only slightly mitigates the wrestling match involved in fitting the mattress protector and the fitted sheet. As for the duvet cover? That's a challenge best tackled with a combination of strategic shoving and hopeful optimism. And because our forepeak berth elegantly tapers towards the foot, a standard-sized quilt results in a rather comical excess of fabric – think a duvet attempting to swallow the end of the bed. Bespoke boat bedding, alas, comes with a price tag that makes our eyes water, and Tracey's relationship with the sewing machine is currently more of a distant acquaintance than a close partnership (though it's definitely on the horizon!).

Our "master suite" boasts a locker that, in its previous life as a weekend sailor's haven, offered just enough hanging space for a few essentials. Now, it's been ingeniously transformed with shelves, packing cubes, and the magic of rollable vacuum packing bags – a triumph of spatial Tetris! The saloon, our main living area, is undeniably snug. We've done our best to inject a sense of home with soft furnishings and personal touches, but one misplaced item can throw off the delicate feng shui, sending Tracey into a mild (but understandable) tailspin. Did you know the term "feng shui" literally translates to "wind-water," perfectly apt for life on a boat!

The galley, or kitchen, presents its own entertaining challenges, particularly the top-loading fridge. While we've diligently tried to keep frequently used items near the top, inevitably, the one ingredient we desperately need lurks at the very bottom, requiring a full archaeological dig. This often results in the hilarious spectacle of Tracey appearing to dive headfirst into the abyss, her legs comically dangling out of the top – a pose that would surely win gold in the "Nautical Fridge Diving" Olympics, if such a sport existed! Cooking is now a carefully orchestrated military operation. Our portable induction hob is a fantastic addition, but it commandeers the majority of the work surface, including the hatch to the aforementioned fridge. This necessitates a meticulous pre-cooking inventory – a lesson learned the hard (and hungry) way in our early days.

Our two back cabins are currently a testament to organized chaos, packed to the gunnels with our belongings. To the untrained eye, it might appear a jumble, but we have a mental map of every item, strategically packed with the most frequently needed things closer to the entrance. Retrieving something from the far reaches of these cabins will undoubtedly be a logistical exercise worthy of a naval maneuver, but it's a small price to pay for having (hopefully!) everything we might need for our adventure.

Even the heads, our petite bathroom, presents its own learning curve. Thankfully, it's surprisingly spacious, even for the long-limbed Nick. Showers are possible, but they require a mental checklist: water tank level? (Cue the hose if needed). Water heater on? (Especially if the engine hasn't been running). Shower pumps engaged? (To avoid an indoor swimming pool). And the familiar flush of a land-based toilet is a distant memory. Our new system involves a pump to expel waste and draw in seawater to clean the pan – a novel experience, though we do appreciate the marina facilities! Fun fact: Did you know that historically, the term "head" for a ship's toilet comes from the fact that the facilities were often located at the head (front) of the ship, utilizing the flow of seawater for flushing?

Ultimately, everything aboard takes longer and requires a degree of forethought that was simply unnecessary in our previous life. Those simple, taken-for-granted tasks of a house are now a thing of the past. We have no doubt that these new routines will eventually become second nature, but for now, we are constantly learning and adapting to our fascinating new environment. Even the constant togetherness, while wonderful, is an adjustment, especially for Tracey, who had grown accustomed to the sanctuary of her own workspace while working from home.

So, dear readers, while our blog often showcases the exciting and social aspects of this journey, the reality of boat life involves a fair amount of comical maneuvering, strategic packing, and a newfound appreciation for the simple conveniences of land. But these quirks, these challenges, they are all part of the adventure, adding their own unique flavour to this incredible experience. And who knows, maybe one day Tracey will even conquer that sewing machine and create bespoke, perfectly fitting boat bedding – stay tuned!Leia mais