A Sudden End

This is certainly not the post I thought I would start writing just a few days after returning to the boat.

Our brand new Smartplug chordset

We were returning to check on the work that was done in the boatyard and determine our next steps. I thought I would be writing about our brand new custom poly fuel tank that should last significantly longer than the old one. And the new coat of anti-fouling paint and how it should adhere far better now that all the old layers are gone. And the new SmartPlug shore power connector and cord set that make shore power a little safer. I hoped I would not be writing about boatyard screw-ups like those I've experienced in the past. I certainly never expected to be writing this.

Our brand new fuel tank, full and ready to go.

Unfortunately, I'm writing to let you know that our adventure appears to be ending before it even really began. Four days after returning to the boat, my wife tells me she just can't continue living on the boat. 

While I don't recall if I have written about this, it is not a completely new subject around here. Back when we were finishing up the hardtop, my wife first mentioned that she wasn't happy with how our new life was unfolding. Since arriving on the boat, her experience consisted of a few long passages racing our insurance hurricane season requirement up the coast and a lot of time working on the boat. Having lived most of it in a boatyard at that time, I couldn't blame her and can't say I was feeling all that great about those months. Cruisers often speak of this life filled with high highs and low lows and we seemed to be at a low. I, however, had the advantage of good memories of the previous year on the boat to help keep me going. We talked about the issues and decided to press on to the Bahamas next season and then reevaluate after that. I figured once some of the highs could be realized, it would help balance things out.  You know, that whole fun to suck ratio thing.

In fact, one of the reasons I decided to risk trusting a boatyard again (despite my previous experiences) was so that she could take a break from the boat and go see family. The boat still needed the work but we didn't have to be the ones to do it and I figured the break would do us both some good. Up until we arrived back in Baltimore I thought it had helped. During the trip we told stories about life on the boat to friends and she seemed more upbeat in general. Dolphins playing at the bow of the boat, anchored in the Keys, and the mass of lights of cruise ships passing in the night were some of the often repeated stories.

I was more than a bit stunned when, during a discussion of our next steps while sitting on the boat, she exclaimed that she just cant do this anymore. Honestly, it left me reeling. For a long time we have invested a lot of effort learning to sail, chartering boats, searching for a boat, buying it, fixing it up and transitioning to full-time live-aboard cruisers. We've endured time apart, too much time in a boatyard, unexpected repairs, and other roadblocks. To me it feels we are so very close to cresting the maintenance hill left by the prior owner. It is absolutely heartbreaking to give up now.  With the Olympic coverage playing in the background as I write this, the analogy of an athlete training for the Olympics only to suffer a career ending injury just before getting on the plane to Rio seems a good analogy.

Three ducklings adrift on a piece of wood in the marina.
I wonder if they feel like I do right now?

My wife said she felt a wave of anxiety and dread wash over her when we got back to the boat. Even if we were to try and push on to the Bahamas, I see now that it will likely not be a fun experience for either of us. Ever since the discussion at the boatyard in Virginia she did a good job of hiding how bad she was feeling from me, but these feelings seem to have been building ever since that time and have finally boiled over. I wish I had understood how bad she was feeling much earlier, but now I think the damage is well beyond repair if it ever could have been repaired. The only solution seems to be to get rid of the thing causing these feelings. So, it looks like sometime in the near future, Rover will be up for sale.

Another soul adrift in the marina, just hanging on this morning.

We are still trying to figure things out, but I guess we will soon start moving off of Rover and then prepare her for sale. What is next for us, I simply do not know.  Right now we are just working on picking up the pieces.  My hope is that we can still find an escape from the rat race, but...I guess...it will not be on Rover.