perpetual cruising

No regrets

Time for an evaluation

July 7th 2019

Today it has been exactly three months since we left Stellendam and started our journey. It seems like a lifetime ago while on the other hand the days have gone in a flash. We have experienced and learned so much in the last few months that now seems like a good time to evaluate.

The first thing we realized is that there is a huge difference between a vacation and perpetual cruising. You can’t hurry a journey like this. We were rushing in the beginning and tried to visit as many places in the shortest amount of time, which made us very unhappy. It was hard to shake off the attitude of a tourist who only has 2 weeks to see the whole of Europe. We’ve realized that we have all the time in the world, and now we’re moving slower. It not only feels much better, but we have time to see and experience things and time to work. Before we slowed down we hadn’t even time to reflect upon what we’ve seen and done, let alone write about it or make movies. Now we also have time to work on commission and earn some money. And that was the plan to start with, to earn money along the way to support our travels.

The freedom of living in a mobile home is fantastic. You can live in all the big urban cities for a while, and when you’re done with the hustle and bustle and are in need of some peace and quiet you head for a remote anchorage somewhere. If you don’t like it somewhere you leave, and if you do like it you stay as long as you like.

We have also come to realize that you need very little in life. When we left we thought we hadn’t brought enough stuff, now we know we have brought too much. We can’t buy much new stuff either, because for every new item we want to buy we need to throw something away, otherwise there’s simply no space. You also don’t need much money, especially if you avoid marinas and stay at anchor most of the time. But even the total fee for the marinas you pay as a visitor (which is way more than if you are a regular berth holder) is less than the rent we paid for our house.

To live self sufficiently as much as possible is very liberating as well. We generate enough energy with our solar panels to power all our electric tools and batteries. We grow micro greens like been sprouts and alfalfa on board so that we always have fresh veggies. We also make several alcoholic beverages, sauerkraut and other fermented vegetables, and make our own tofu and bread. It would be great if we can be even more self sufficient, so we keep adding to the list.

Every day is full of surprises. You might meet an amazing person, discover a beautiful spot or learn something new. Your world becomes bigger, and you learn a lot about your environment and most importantly about yourself. And that everything is always completely different, is at the same time the difficult part of perpetual cruising. Sometimes life throws curve balls at you, and you just have to deal with it. These can be technical issues like when your engine won’t start and you are drifting towards a shallow spot, or when the heater won’t work and you’re cold. But sometimes it’s just plain overwhelming that everything is different and nothing is familiar. We people are creatures of habit after all.

The journey is more important than the destination. Yes it’s a cliche, but there lies a whole world between just quoting the proverb or truly realizing what it means. And we’re just starting to grasp what it actually means. We still haven’t left the Netherlands, whereas when we started we thought we would be in Sweden by now. Although we keep saying to ourselves that ‘it’s all about the journey’ sometimes it feels a bit like we haven’t reached our goals. But it makes us happier to travel slower now we’ve realized no one is pushing us. There are new experiences every day, even if you stay in the same spot for two weeks. Besides, the Netherlands is beautiful as well. There is so much to see here, why would we rush past it all to get to St.Petersburg without having seen Enkhuizen or Edam, or without having anchored at the Braassemermeer or the IJsseloog?

One thing we’re still struggling with, is the weather. The weather is very decisive in how you spend your day if you are a perpetual cruiser on a sailboat. No wind? You’re stuck. Too much wind? You’re stuck. Rain? The solar panels won’t work and you don’t have power. Too much sun? You can’t do very much because you can’t escape the heat. We’ve learned that fighting the weather and stubbornly do what you’ve planned is a recipe for disaster.

But whatever happens, and whether we can continue this lifestyle or not, we’ve done it. In stead of talking and dreaming about it we have untied the lines and are now living our dream. And although it’s not all fun and games, we’d rather regret the mistakes we’ve made than regret the missed opportunity.

Go with the flow

Thoughts about modes of transportation

July 3rd 2019

Captain Fluffy is trying to find a substitute for a crow’s nest

In retrospect we could have just taken the train to The Hague for the dentist appointment, but on the upside it gives us the opportunity to get some groceries with the car. Especially for heavy stuff like kitty litter, diesel and beverages a car is quite convenient, so we made good use of our little four fendered friend.

It’s fun and weird at the same time to be driving again after 3 months on a boat. Everything goes so fast, which in the beginning was a bit uncomfortable. We got used to the speed again soon enough, but it’s funny to notice that the modes of transportation are a completely different experience. Would your mindset change over time by the mode of transportation you use? Are we different people now our speed is determined by the boat? Maybe we are. Maybe we are more relaxed and less part of the rat race than we were before we left. Sometimes things are just what they are, and it’s better to go with the flow than fight against the current.

Out of sync

Fighting a lingering nine-to-five mentally

June 23rd 2019

The swans however, are synchronising their leg stretching

You know those days that everything is slightly out of sync? This was one of those days. For one reason or another we were both very tired and didn’t have the energy to do anything. We tried to work, but it turned out to be nothing but a pointless exercise. Maybe you shouldn’t work when the temperature is tropical, and just embrace it as a moment to relax and enjoy. Could it be the lingering nine to five mentality that is rearing it’s ugly head? The notion that we have to be productive during daytime? Perhaps this is one of the things we have to get to terms with, if we want to be perpetual cruisers. We should learn to travel when the weather permits, learn to work when we’re not travelling and relax when it’s not time to travel or work.

We decided to seize the day. So we abandoned the idea of doing anything constructive and went out for a swim instead.

The only ones standing still

The remarkable people you meet when traveling

May 21st 2019

The weather had indeed changed. The wind had picked up significantly, but fortunately no rain. After all the fuss with the anchor alarm we finally had a good night’s sleep. The harbour master came to check on the electricity, and after some fidgeting we finally had power. All was well with the world again.

It was high time for a trip to a grocery store. Armed with backpacks to carry our groceries we set off to the nearest supermarket. On our way there we saw a peculiar sight. A Pheasant was being attacked at the same time by both an Oystercatcher and a Moorhen. The Oystercatcher kept pelting down on the Pheasant, every time pecking him hard on the head, whilst the Moorhen was attacking him from below, screaming like a banshee. The Pheasant must have caused some serious grieve to be harassed like that.

While standing there on the dyke watching the spectacle, a women with a camera stopped to watch as well and we started talking. She used to work as a self-employed neurotherapist, but decided to end her practice, move to a smaller house and see something of the world. Like us she had downsized significantly when she moved to the smaller house and experienced that you really don’t need so much stuff. The change allowed her to save money to travel and she had just returned from a long trip to Vietnam. Now she was trying to organize her life in such a way that she could become a perpetual traveler. It’s remarkable when you’re traveling for an extended period like we are now, that you meet so many like minded people, almost as if you’re attracting them. Her explanation for these chance encounters was as simple as true: “We are the only ones standing still while everybody else is rushing past”.

What it’s like to be constantly on the move

April 29th 2019

Alblasserdam to Gouda: 16,4 nautical miles

Today we’re leaving Alblasserdam. After getting the boat ready to leave we called the bridge master to ask him if he would be so kind to open the bridge at the marina entrance for us. No answer… oh yes of course, this was the town where phones aren’t picked up. But since we really wanted to leave, we called again. And again. And left a voicemail message. Eventually we decided to walk there to find out what was happening.

There was an elderly man at the bridge house, pacing back and forth, newspaper and glasses laid abandoned on a table. He was apparently waiting for something to happen. “Are you the bridge master? Asked Jeroen. “Yes I am, how can I help you?” Jeroen asked him why he didn’t answer the phone. “Phone?” He said. “ I haven’t heard anything. Are you sure you’ve called the right number?” When Jeroen said he was sure that he had, because we dialed we same number yesterday, he called the bridge number with his own phone. The sound of the phone was hardly audible although a blue light was flashing on and off, signaling that someone was calling.“Oh, the volume must be set really low.” So he checked the phone and there were indeed several missed calls.

He didn’t knew how to adjust the volume, and said he had to wait for a technical assistant to do it for him. Jeroen volunteered to help him out. “Oh, do you know how to do that?” Asked the man in wonder. After adjusting the volume the bridge master said “Shall I open the bridge now?”. We explained that we first needed to get back to the boat and then start the engine and maneuver out of the box before we even got to the bridge, so it might take a little while. Fifteen minutes later the bridge was up and we were finally on our way, the bridge master waving happily when we passed.

A nice day again. But next to no wind and in an unfavorable direction anyway. And you aren’t allowed to tack on these waters due to the busy traffic anyway, so no sailing today. A few miles further we had to pass the next bridge. The Algera bridge and lock are actually the first completed part of the Delta works, an extensive operation that was designed to protect the Netherlands from extreme high tides and storm surges. The lock only closes if the water level is too high to protect the lower lands beyond, so we only had to negotiate the bridge. Most bridges in this traffic dense area open only a few times a day on set times for pleasure crafts. Because we came 5 minutes late and just missed the opening for the Algera bridge, we had to wait for another hour. No problem, we’ll just fasten ourselves at the waiting dock and have a cup of tea and a sandwich while we wait. We had just moored when we saw traffic on the road ahead coming to a standstill. A containership was approaching and requested an opening; they don’t have to wait. We hailed the bridge if we could tag along, and we could. The sandwiches need to wait.

Behind the bridge lies the Hollandse IJssel, a beautiful meandering river with little towns and small ferries, speeding from one side of the river to the other. Apparently they are very wealthy little towns, because most houses had their own boat lifts. There was not much traffic on the river. We passed a few containerships and other yachts going in the opposite direction, but for the most part it was just us calmly bobbing along. All in all very agreeable.

After a pleasant passage we approached Gouda, where we had to pass through the Juliana lock and two bridges, all operated at the same time. We shared the lock with only a jet ski so we had plenty of space and soon we were coming out on the other side.

Marina W.V. Gouda is situated in the center of Gouda. We were welcomed by a really helpful harbour master who navigated us through the narrow -and to our concern very shallow- harbour and helped us dock. Quite a tight fit here, the marina seems to be more suited for motorboats, which most of the other boats indeed were.

We now start to realize that every day is different and that it takes some time getting used to. As Jeroen’s mother said “Every day you have to solve new problems.” The routines are the same: preparing the route, navigating, docking, finding shore power. But the execution of such a process is completely different. Something is simple as coming home for instance becomes quite complicated. Normally when you get home, even when we were already living on the boat, you park the car in its usual spot, open the door, take off your jacket, flap down on the couch and you’re home. But now you enter a marina you haven’t been to before, so you have no idea what the layout of the place is. Often you don’t even know which slip you have to go to until you sail into the marina, and the harbour master calls out the number of the slip which you then have to find. Then you have to dock, and you don’t know what the slip looks like until you approach it. Only then you know how to maneuver into it and where to tie the lines. After you’ve fastened yourself, you have to walk to the harbour master, pay the fee, get codes or keys for gates, doors and WiFi and sometimes tokens or badges for showers, water and electricity. When you get back to the boat you have to find the socket, connect shore power, tidy up all the sail gear, move all the stuff you have secured from sail-mode (tied down or lodged somewhere to prevent the items from falling during the passage) to live-mode and only then you’re finally ‘home’. Coming home takes at least an hour in stead of a few minutes.

Everyday you open the hatch it looks different. Sounds are different, even the light is different. I guess we’re starting to feel the impact that perpetual cruising has on us. It feels different than a vacation, probably because there’s not really a deadline to return home. Our boat technically being our house makes it all the more confusing. During a vacation you tend to put up with things you normally wouldn’t, because it’s only for a few weeks. But now we’ll be gone a few months, and then it becomes impossible to be ‘on’ the whole time. Time to unwind and rest are more important. But although it can get rather stressful at times, overall it’s still quite exiting in a positive way.

We’re docked now, paid the fee and collected codes and keys so now it’s time to relax. Tomorrow we’re going to check out the city.

Our journey to Gouda