We all now live on the boat. Here’s how we’re set up, with a couple of photos of the inside.
Space is minimal, but it’s not claustrophobic
There’s me, Lady SierraWhiskyMike, and a German shepherd cross on our boat.
We live on an 11m (about 37 feet) long sailing yacht.
There was a bit of getting used to as we learned to move around each other. Unlike in a house or flat, there narrow transit routes across the boat mean that you can’t have two people rushing about in the same space. Movements have to be deliberate, and this means that routine and preparing for your morning the night before are essential to an stress-free life aboard.
If both of you are looking for your keys/ wallet/ phone in the morning, you’re going to have a bad time.
There’s a lot of storage – but it’s not your storage
I have oodles of space for boat gear. Spare engine parts, secondary anchor, sails, all manner of lines, emergency gear… the list is endless.
But for my own personal kit?
We’re fortunate to have a locker each. That’s kind of like a miniature wardrobe. There is also shelving around the bunks that I’m in the process of making cargo netting for so that we gain more personal stowage.
What this means is that you need to prioritise what you own. There needs to be some intentionality behind the choice of your possessions. You can have a few really good things, but you don’t have the luxury of carrying around tons of crap.
Which is great – minimalism is great for FIRE.
There are areas of the boat to do everything in
Our living setup is small, sure, but it’s configured to be multi-functional.
Below is a gallery of the interior (by popular demand).
I haven’t shown the outside of the boat here because you can track boats by the AIS signature online and the outside of the boat is all labelled up.
If this was a sailing blog, that would be fine – but putting it on a financial independence blog will just make us a kidnap target when we eventually travel. Nothing says “worth a cheeky kidnap and ransom” quite like “this dude has enough money to retire early”.
As you can see, we actually do have the space to administrate ourselves, and that’s even with the forepeak cabin (not shown, as it’s basically being used as storage and is ridiculously scruffy) not really being in use.
When we’ve sorted out a replacement mattress, we’re moving into the more spacious forepeak cabin. The rear cabin we’re presently sleeping in is OK, it’s really cosy at night, but it’s hardly spacious.
Cold and heat
Winter was a bit tricky. We wore jumpers and we have a single electric-oil radiator that we plug in. That’s enough to keep warm, but if you’re the kind of person who needs a constant 20-degrees indoor temperature then you will sorely be disappointed with boat life in Northern Europe.
The boat doesn’t heat up too much in the sun. In fact, the saloon maintains a fairly constant temperature within a small range, probably because half of it is below the water level.
We have a cockpit enclosure – like a tent or awning for a caravan – which is cosy when the sun is out and protects us when it’s raining. I’m sat in it to write this post and it’s like being in a conservatory.
Sleeping is fantastic
Look, it’s noisy. There’s always fender squeak or the creaking of mooring lines.
You get used to that really quickly.
The boat rocks you to sleep at night. I’ve never had such good quality sleep. Once you get over the noise, sleeping aboard is highly recommended.
Might even take a nap later.
You also go to bed a little earlier and wake a little later, due to the natural response to daylight and darkness. I’m still up at, say, 0700 or 0800, but I’m ready for the day instead of dragging myself to the coffee pot.
Best bits
- The sleep at night.
- Living somewhere awesome and being able to move if it stops being awesome.
- Being close to the sea, nature, and dog walks.
- Snoozing on the cockpit seat in the sun with my dog.
- Not caring if you’re scruffy, because “I live on a boat” is a great excuse for wearing unironed t-shirts, jeans and an overshirt every single day.
- Not having a mortgage – fuck you, banks!
- Training for adventure in my post-FI campaign life.
- Other peoples’ reactions when you tell them you live on a boat.
Compromises
- Maintenance. So much maintenance. You have this in a house, too, but less frequently (although it’s easier to maintain a boat than a house – basically everything is spare parts, sealant and/or fibreglass)
- Space. I don’t actually miss that, but you might.
- Thou Shalt Be A Minimalist, For Thou Shalt Have No Storage.
- When a storm hits, you might be up at 0400hrs checking lines and fenders. Can confirm from personal experience.
Wrap up
So obviously we’ve only been aboard three months (and a bit) now and there’s every chance we’re still in the honeymoon phase.
We did do it over winter, mind you.
The experience has confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is how I want to live when I’m financially independent. I’m glad we tried this now, at the ripe age of 36, rather than wait until retirement and then buy a boat to discover that actually we’re not into it.
There are tons of boats in the Mediterranean Sea that attest to this being the default approach.
Lady SierraWhiskyMike has already been floating (ha!) the idea of winter lets. Where we are, the holiday cottages are let out for the winter off-season as short-term rental properties. Maybe next winter we’ll do that, but we’re not compelled to and I think this winter proved that we can live this life.
What I need to do now is engineer things so that I can live this life full time instead of commuting to work every weekday. That’d be nice, eh?
