This article was previously written for and published by Vancouver Family Magazine in November 2020.
In October 2016, our landlubber family took the leap and moved aboard our new sailboat, Mosaic, in a marina on Hayden Island at Jantzen Beach. We enjoyed two weeks of nice, fall weather before being slammed with the worst Pacific Northwest winter in recent memory. We hadn’t a clue what we were getting ourselves into, but with our goal fixed firmly in mind, we jumped full-steam-ahead into liveaboard life.
It rained incessantly throughout November, and by December that rain had turned to snow storm after snow storm after ice storm after snow storm. December, January, and February passed in a blur of semi-misery for us. The temperatures outside were freezing as often as not and the water around the boat even froze three inches thick. We had just two small space heaters to warm the boat so we lived in layers of warm clothes as the temperatures frequently dipped into the 50s inside the boat overnight.
We didn’t even have a decent dehumidifier to remove the moisture from the air. Looking back, we were simply clueless as to how much of a difference that would make in our comfort! We had a small dehumidifier which had come with the boat and we used it religiously but didn’t even realize there were bigger and better models to be had. So, due to all the moisture in the air and the drastic temperature differences inside the boat versus out, condensation collected and dripped down the walls constantly, and even rained down on my husband and I as we slept in the aft cabin.
I laugh now as I recount the stories of that first winter, of what an adventure it was sometimes simply to get to and from the boat. I remember more than once needing to get down the steep dock ramp with the kids but finding it covered in a thick layer of ice from the most recent ice storm. Forced to cling to the handrail with one arm while holding my two-year-old daughter’s hand with the other as we literally just slid our way down the ramp with zero traction. Telling my six-year-old son to hold the rail and slide down behind me so that I could catch him if he lost his footing and fell. For at the bottom there was nothing to stop any of us from simply sliding off into the frigid water if we’d gone down.
That first winter was terrible. But there were moments of magic mixed into our days too, like the silence of the fresh snowfall quieting the marina, and the beauty of each fresh layer of snow. At one point, we had over a foot of snow and the children still remember playing in it, throwing snowballs and making snow angels. Living aboard a boat does nothing if not bring you closer to nature and instill a greater respect for and connection with the natural elements. Tucked into bed, warm at night, I loved falling asleep to the gentle pitter patter of raindrops on the cockpit above. I’ll always love the sound of raindrops falling on the boat.
It seemed that the winter would never give way to spring, but of course it eventually did. We felt a sense of relief believing that if we could make it through that winter, that misery, and still want to go forward with our possibly-crazy-sailing-plan, we were going to be OK.
We found a local sailing instructor, Captain Stephen Frankland, and hired him for lessons aboard Mosaic. It felt good to listen to his cruising stories and see his appreciation for the boat that we’d chosen. We started to get comfortable with sailing Mosaic and we grew better at living aboard. For two more years, we took the boat on adventures up and down the Columbia River and marveled at how free we felt every time we were able to get away from the home slip, even if just for a weekend.
Ever so gradually, we fit the puzzle pieces together to build our life into something that would allow us to cast off the dock lines and become true cruising nomads. First I, and then my husband, found jobs that would allow us to work from home, remotely. We began homeschooling our children and cutting ties to the shore.
It was truly beautiful, the days and nights out on the river sailing this old boat, doing just what she was meant to do. It filled my soul with happiness and we began to not just dream of leaving Portland, but actually plan for it.
We chose our date with steadfast determination. May 2019. Do or die. We would cast off the dock lines and leave our home waters of the mighty Columbia River in search of the adventure of a lifetime.
Rachel Messerschmidt and her family are Clark County natives currently living and cruising full time aboard their sailboat, Mosaic, in the Pacific Northwest. Rachel blogs about her life and journey at www.mosaicvoyage.com and shares her family’s adventures in a monthly column in Vancouver Family Magazine.
