teal tales

We had just arrived home after being gone all weekend. We got everything unpacked and put away, and Kyle had just gotten dinner started when there was a frantic pounding on our hull. “There’s a boat on fire, call 911!”

The winter darkness has settled in – no sunlight, no sleep and no fun! So we took this as a sign to get off the boat for a weekend getaway. Of course, even our vacations are mind-numbingly functional, wait until you see what our destination was.

Our marina woes aren’t over. We’re still asking questions like “where are we going to live next week?” which is really testing the limits of my serenity. I know only one thing for certain: no Charleston marina wants liveaboards.

I’m not really sure what I expected from marina life, except that…I didn’t think it’d feel this primitive! Can you relate to our experience?

That was one of the most exhausting weekends I’ve ever had. The kind where you come to the horrifying realization that it’s Sunday night and you never actually had any time to relax. I haven’t seen the boat in daylight for ten days.

We’re entering the most chaotic week of downsizing and moving – our final week in the house! You’d never believe which weird items we’re finding it hard to part with, and which ones are surprisingly easy to let go.

We get thrown into the deep end of boat ownership, we’re on our own to deliver our catamaran up the ICW. We’re going to have a lot of “firsts” in the next two days.

After we got our asses thoroughly kicked by a gale that chased us all the way down to Georgia, we made the Savannah inlet and headed north on the Intracoastal Waterway. We stopped at Skull Creek Marina, kissed the dry ground, sold the boat, and committed ourselves to being landlubbers for eternity.