We have been having some beautiful, warm January weather until the north winds started blowing in. Perfect timing for the marina to lose power leaving us in the cold with no heat. To be clear, not the whole marina, just the section we happen to be living in!

What to do when the weather turns cold, you don’t have electricity and your sailboat is literally stuck in the mud?

That is what we had to ask ourselves this week. The cold winds from the north not only pushed out the nice weather we were experiencing from the south, but these northerlies also push a lot of the water out of the bay. Last week Chris marked the water level at our slip on the day we went out sailing with white tape. You can see how low it is now.

Another way to tell is by the steepness of the ramp from the parking lot to the floating dock. When the water is deep enough for us to leave the marina, the top of the blue deck box (on the right side of the ramp) needs to at least be level with the top of the wall. Some of our more pessimistic pier mates say we won't see that again until May.

As long as the wind keeps blowing in from the north, we won’t be doing any sailing and here we sit, two sticks stuck in the mud. At least the electricity is back on after three days. I not only missed having hot water, but because it took longer to roust ourselves from our warm bed in the morning we ended up with shorter days.

Not having a generator on board meant we could only run essentials like the fridge and water pump in order to conserve our batteries. We did heat the main cabin of the boat when absolutely necessary with our propane stovetop but mostly we just tried to be elsewhere. We were optimistic the first day and went to the movies and out to eat thinking that power would be reestablished when we got back. No such luck. We walked around Home Depot to kill time before we felt it was late enough to bundle up in our winter PJ’s and knit caps and huddle under our mound of blankets. The next day we found a nearby park with a mile long loop, and we walked that a few times, (which was much more enjoyable than trying to sit through “Greenland 2”), so much so that we have made it a part of our daily routine. That evening we hung out at the clubhouse on the other side of the marina where we watched a couple of “Everybody Loves Raymond” episodes while we caught up on laundry, charged our phones and pieced together a puzzle.

By the third evening power was back on; the temperature warmed up a little too. Since we won’t be doing any sailing until the wind direction changes course again, we decided to send out our main sail to be cleaned. Like the rest of the boat when we purchased her, it had become mildewy as it sat zipped up in its stack-pack.

We’ve decided this would be a good time to work on other projects that were not as high on our priority list but are now, like getting solar power sorted. Renewing passports and ordering new decals for the boat (a necessity since we have changed her name and port of registration) are also on our to-do list.

Other than that, we spend each day mainly the same way, having settled into a kind of routine. Our day usually starts with coffee and a devotional which we read together from Paul David Tripp's book “New Morning Mercies”. We pray together. We do Bible studies together. We read or watch some news, do our morning walk, shower, clean the boat, eat lunch, read, and watch TV together. Well, not the showering, those days are long gone along with my willingness to share toothbrushes or towels. But we pretty much do everything else together. Pretty tame, ordinary stuff.

It’s funny because I thought that was what we were ‘escaping’ by living on a boat, the mundaneness of the ordinary days of an ordinary life. But those boring, mundane things are so much more satisfying now. It wasn’t the repetitiveness that made our routines boring, it was doing them solo.

People would always ask when we told them of our boat plans how we would manage the constant togetherness and we would joke about having a dingy and 50 ft of rope. And it did take a short time to adjust but the constant togetherness has become my favorite part of this liveaboard lifestyle. We have much more to talk about because we are learning and experiencing things in tandem. Sharing thoughts about interactions with people we’ve encountered together, news articles we’ve both read, and activities that we have experience side by side often leads to better conversations than simply hearing about the details of the other person’s day or about their interactions with people you’ve never even met. We are also learning a lot more about each other, even after two decades of marriage.

Not that things are all rainbows and sunshine. We still argue from time to time. The topics of our arguments might be different, but they are still usually over dumb stuff, like what bilge cleaner to use. Or whether wandering aimlessly around the aisles of Home Depot really is a benign activity meant to kill time or some covert way to punish someone for using the wrong bilge cleaner!

Regardless, boat life so far isn’t that much different than life on land. You take the good with the bad, for better or for worse. You learn, you grow, you compromise. You adjust your sails, your plans, your attitude, your expectations, depending on which way the wind is blowing, but you do it together, and the rewards are richer. At least, that’s my opinion.

Whooping Cranes

...and our ICW adventure!