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Life on a Boat Reflects Life in General
An Exercise in Balancing the Ups and Downs
I was asked yesterday on Instagram whether living on a boat is as good as it looks. It’s a question I often receive in one way or another, and it’s not always easy to answer.
It is generally a life of contrasting experiences and emotions, particularly if you’re trying to live independently, and off the grid. Let me try to explain.
The long, lazy, hazy days of summer can be idyllic. The cacophony of bird chatter as you wake in the morning. The heron sitting silently on the branch opposite. The large window glass removed to bring your sitting room right to the water’s edge. Reflections of dappled light rippling across the ceiling.
Those days are a distant memory in the damp winter as you drag bags of shopping along the boggy towpath. Your clean jeans immediately splattered with mud, your shoes permanently soaking and filthy as you capitulate to your apparent inability to avoid bringing the muck right into the heart your living space.
The ease with which to move your home to find a different vista, to decide to stay at an idyllic spot on a whim, is freeing. The logistics of normally simple tasks such as disposing of rubbish, transferring bulky or heavy items from your vehicle to your home, or hauling laundry into town can feel anything but.
There is a sense of achievement that comes from so called simple living, from having to physically provide your basic needs. A full tank of fresh water, a month’s supply of fuel and an empty toilet bring a satisfaction that is often missing when these are available without effort. The sight of smoke rising from your chimney and the accompanying warmth kicked out by the burner inside in winter heightens this further.
But those moments of joy at having everything you need are often shortlived. When you’re once again clambering over a slippery roof at 11pm in the rain to haul down a heavy, wet, dirty bag of coal that you forgot was needed, they may seem infrequent.
