A Night Living On A Sailboat

A slight drizzle is falling as I walk down the ramp. The sun set long ago and the marina has a deserted feel as I walk down the dock passing all the neglected sailboats silently tugging at their mooring lines. I reach Aramis and hop onboard, ducking under the tarp I've draped across the boom to keep the rain from getting into the companion way. The act of climbing onboard sets the boat rocking as I fumble for my keys in the dark.

I slide the companion way hatch open, reach inside, and flick the switch for the cabin lights. The cold interior of the boat greets me as I throw my keys and backpack onto the port settee. Too lazy to pull out the 6 companion way slats, I just hoist myself over and lower myself through the hatch as well.

Inside, I close the hatch and flick on the rest of the cabin lights. I turn on the small electric heater and check the little plastic thermometer. 42 degrees inside the cabin. It is supposed to get down into the 30's tonight. I fold the table up and secure it against the bulkhead, pull out the port settee, and convert the cushions into "bed mode" for the evening. I go forward and pull my oversized comforter and pillow out of the v-berth, fold the comforter in half, and lay it out on the port side double bed. I then grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth using the foot pump sink in the main cabin. I check the thermometer again. 50 degrees.

I change into my PJ's - thermal underwear, flannel pants, thermal shirt, and a big U of O sweatshirt. My old clothes get thrown into a pillow case in the v-berth that I use as my laundry bag. I turn off all but one cabin light and climb in-between the folds of the comforter. I pull my other comforter (the one I bought thinking it was a comforter cover) over me as well. It's going to be a cold night, so I'm glad I have lots of blankets. I pull up Netflix on my iPhone and watch an episode of Family Guy or a nature documentary, depending on my mood. I grab a bag of chips from the little sliding compartment next to the bed and settle in to wait as the cabin heats up.

After the show is over I check the thermometer again. 62 degrees. I take out my contacts (the heater is drying out the air a bit too much) and adjust thermostat to keep the cabin at about 65 degrees. I take a last look around the cozy little cabin before I flick off the light and lay down, buried in my comforters. Warm, toasty, and dry. Soon, the heater clicks off having reach the desired temp. The sounds of the marina filter in through Aramis's thin hull.

A slight wind has picked up out of the west. The boat slightly rocks and creeks against the dock as the breeze plays a nighttime lullaby with the halyards and masts of the marina.

Poor me, I think to myself. Life on a boat sure is rough.

I smile as I fall asleep...

Until Next Time
~Adam

S/V Aramis