Since moving aboard I’ve discovered that deep inside me, under the layers of Tom Boy that I’ve built up over 27+ years, there’s a girl. She doesn’t wear glitter or pink, but she does like some of the more domestic sides of life, including cooking, making desserts, and looking for ways to make the boat a little more home-ish. Continue reading
Selling furniture, giving away clothes and pitching stuff in the garbage isn’t something most girls dream of.
But last August I did just that, all so I could move aboard a sailboat and leave land behind to search for adventure. My decision to live aboard a boat had nothing to do with my thoughts on materialism, consumerism or any other philosophical examination of our culture; living aboard a boat is a cool place to live at an even cooler price, and would allow my aspirations and experiences to grow.
Read the rest of the article on Three Sheets Northwest.
Here’s what happened: last week and into the beginning of this week we saw perfect weather. Sun. Clear skies. Temperature in the fifties. In FEBRUARY! Pacific Northwesters just cannot handle this kind of weather, our brains explode. We get all frantic and excited and run outside with nothing to do, so we’re just out there, wandering around, soaking it all in, blubbering and crying about how that big, burning yellow thing in the sky is warm and makes us all happy! Productivity? Puh-lease. The sun, it’s out! Even if you chained yourself indoors, your mind would drift and think of running through fields of sunflowers while “California Dreaming” echos through the sky. Continue reading
I’ve lived aboard my boat for about six months now, both in summer and winter, and have come to the conclusion that, though the S/V Libby is a great boat and a cozy home, she’s also my starter boat. When other liveaboards would say “It’s your first boat,” I shook my head at them, whispering: “My only boat,” like I didn’t want Libby to hear such words. Continue reading
The gist: happy people want everyone else to be happy. Successful people want others to find success. Unhappy people want everyone else to be unhappy, and do their utmost to bring the high achievers down. If you’ve encountered naysayers on your way to fulfilling a dream, or are frustrated with who the naysayers are (like your family or friends) read on. If the last four sentences made you yawn and you’re wondering why I’m not writing about sailing (because it’s 27 degrees outside, who sails in that? I don’t!), or something else semi-adventurous, then thank your lucky shooting stars you didn’t read the rest of this post, because it’s a doozy. Continue reading
Something untoward is happening to my sleeping habits, all thanks to my dream machine: a small, seemingly harmless, little 200 watt heater by Lasko. My reason for acquiring the little device was purely comfort-related, but this thing has morphed into a comatose-inducing, bizarre dream-creating contraption.
It’s best practice to focus a post on a topic, a theme, an adventure, a something. I decided to heck with that―it’s my blog, I’m the goddess here, so I can make up and amend the rules whenever I gosh darn feel like it. There are a number of things that have happened in the past few weeks that I wanted to share in a hit-and-run sort of way. None of them are particularly important, or life-changing, just the little things. Continue reading
You know how at the end of the year everyone gets all gushy about what happened in the past twelve months, and all hopeful for what will come in the next? Yeah, I do that too—I’m not unique. Continue reading
You know it’s real love when you sigh–rather than groan–about a boat’s shortcomings. The S/V Libby, gorgeous and fast though she may be, lacks something highly necessary: a heater. This really isn’t so much of a problem right now, while I’m docked, rocking an abundance of electricity, feeding a small ceramic electric heater. But when “spring” finally arrives and I’m out of the juice, it will be an issue.
Congratulations! You’re researching your next adventure, and I applaud you. Living aboard a boat is incredible, and I’m sure you’re just peeing your pants with excitement. When I was in your stage, I would lose sleep thinking about my boat, wondering what she was like, and what adventures me and her would embark upon together.
When I moved up from sunny California, I experienced something different, which I relive every year. I moved up here in February when the skies were clear, the air crisp. Even though it snowed in April, while I was stringing a fence for Dante, the real change didn’t happen until summer.
Last week I housesat for my parents as they traveled to California to, among other things, spend a day at Disneyland. I haven’t been to Disneyland in nearly ten years, so I’m a little bitter that they got to go and I remained behind to care for their house/zoo. But it wasn’t all bad, and I admit that there were aspects of living on land which I enjoyed.
Since I started this blog, I’ve gotten a few emails from folks asking where I live/moor. Before living on a boat, I noticed that people found my website by searching “Courtney Kirchoff address,” which I admit, freaked me out just a bit. Though I believe most people are good and decent, I’m not naive, and know some people in this world are not to be trusted. Anyone and everyone uses the web, both good and not so good. I deliberately avoid talking about my current location for my own safety. Most people asking for my location are doing so for innocent reasons: just wanting to connect with another liveaboard, become friends, whatever. But it’s always the weirdos who ruin it for everyone else. While I’d love to say “I live here, come and meet for coffee and tales of windy adventures,” I will always refrain. So if you’ve emailed me asking where I live, please don’t take it personally if I never respond to your inquiry. I’m being safe. Avid kick boxer and believer in the second amendment though I may be, it’s still unwise for anyone on the web to proclaim their current location. I shake my head at people who always update their Twitter or Facebook feeds with things like “Visiting family in wherever,” or “I miss my husband so much, can’t wait for him to come home,” etc. Such trusting individuals have made it that much easier to be robbed, stalked, or something far worse.
To my family and friends who read this blog: I absolutely love getting comments from you, but please keep my whereabouts private.
Though we’re approaching winter here in the Pacific Northwest, I felt it was prudent to go on an overnight sailing adventure to somewhere. What’s the point of living on a sailboat, I said, if one doesn’t sail it anywhere to stay the night? I couldn’t have had this spurring thought in early September, when the sun shone warmly–no, no, I had to get the cruising bug well after the cold temperatures had caught hold. I have a propensity to make life a little harder for myself. Oh well.
