The View From the Hard

We’re starting week four in the boat yard. Three weeks ago we were towed in and lifted out of the water and placed on stands to sit in the boat yard and wait first for a new transmission to arrive and then second for mechanic time to have the dead transmission replaced.

We got lucky. We’re on the edge of the yard, right by the boat slips and the water. We have a great view of the water and less so of the boat yard itself.

The sky is blue, and the heat is real. With the boat on the hard, she doesn’t point into the wind, so we just bake in the heat and don’t get the breeze flowing through the boat like we usually do. It’s been topping 100F the past few days.

And of course, the sinks drain to the water, or in our current situation, dump directly on the ground so we try to minimize what goes down the drain. And the toilet pulls water from the ocean to flush. Although we could pour water into the toilet, we only have about 3 weeks’ capacity of normal use so we need to climb down that ladder any time we need to use the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Everybody Else Is Already There

The Fear Of Missing Out (FOMO) is real. Only it’s not an irrational fear. We should be in Provincetown by now. Our mooring ball is waiting for us, and folks are arriving every day. Liam’s boat is already in town, and most of our mooring field neighbors are back as well.

The town is starting to wake up after winter, and we’re not there. And of course, we have no idea when we’re going to arrive, which makes me worried about the boys’ jobs and our summer plans in general.

The Mechanic Will Be There When He Gets There

TJ’s Marina and Boat Yard is pretty awesome, but they only have one mechanic, and he gets pulled for higher priority jobs most of the time.

They have the triage procedures pretty ironed out and do well at prioritization. But it’s still difficult to acknowledge and accept that we are pretty low down that list.
I wish I were mechanically inclined, but I’m not. Accepting my limitations has been a difficult and humbling experience. Especially at $120 an hour for the mechanic. I wouldn’t be surprised if this costs us a few thousand dollars.

The time to learn was yesterday. And the only way to reduce these costs is to be proactive. We’ll be replacing the motor next winter, and that’s a motor I want to make sure I really understand.

Engineering a Life Around the Heat

And there is the heat. I’m glad that we’re planning our next haul out to be in November/December when the temperatures are expected to be MUCH lower. This heat is relentless. So bad that the ice maker can’t keep up with it.

We’ve adapted a bit to survive a bit more. The most practical has been shifting our waking and working hours. I’ve been getting up at 4 am when it’s actually pleasant to do most of my work, and then as the day goes on and the temperatures climb, we slow down and eventually stop about one or two in the afternoon. I can appreciate the concept of the siesta a bit more in this heat.

We’ve also been lingering in the showers a bit longer than we probably need to. Not only are they air-conditioned, but a cold shower really helps.

Rumor has it they are going to include a pool as they expand (currently under construction), so once that is done, it will be an amazing addition. But for now. We just shift our schedules, drink cool drinks, and take cold showers.

What the Boatyard Actually Costs

The costs for the yard are all over the website. $5.50 a foot to be hauled, $8.00 a foot for yard time, $40 for electricity, $3.00 a foot for blocking, $2.50 a foot for power washing, and a $225 livaboard fee. So, just about $1,000, and then there is the $120 an hour for the mechanic.

But time in the yard costs a lot more than just money. It costs time and sanity.

As we rack up yard fees, we’re losing time. The three weeks we’ve been here are enough for us to have gotten all the way to Provincetown for the summer, so every day we are here is a day the boys aren’t working and are going a bit crazy. Which, of course, leads to the cost to our sanity of being here. While it’s been a helpful lesson in letting go and practicing acceptance, it is grading, and we are going a bit crazy.

Let It Go (Easier Said Than Done)

Sometimes the yard time teaches persistence, and sometimes it teaches patience. This visit to the yard is heavy on patience. In the end, all we can do is wait for our turn. We have been forced to acknowledge our mechanical limitations and adapt to what needs to be done.

We’ve picked off a few jobs we could do while on the hard and are now just trying to be patient. Trying to keep up with the day job in the heat and staying visible enough to the yard staff so they know we’re here without being a bother.

The job will take as long as it takes, it will cost what it costs, and after we’ve exhausted our list of boat projects that we can do on the hard at the moment, all we can really do is wait. So for us, that’s meant movies, reading, and a whole lot of audiobooks and podcasts.

The Water Is Still There

In the end, though, I’m grateful that we’re in the particular spot in the boat yard where we can still look out and see that the water is still there.

The job is an easy one that folks do every day, and we’ll get it done soon enough. We’ll pay the yard and get lowered back into the water.

We’ll take a few days to move through the ICW to get to the Atlantic, then a couple of multi-day hops, and we’ll be in Provincetown. Tied to the mooring ball. Able to kayak and swim every day. Around all of our friends. With the boys working and me pushing forward on projects on the boat and for the university.

While the time in the yard is making me a bit crazy, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Living on the boat is more than worth it. And I’ll just need to spend more time in the water and at the beach this summer to make up for the time.