Cramped Quarters

Life on a boat has much charm. I could wax poetic about being rocked to sleep by gentle waves, popping my head out of a hatch first thing in the morning and being treated to a whole new view, gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, visits by dolphins… and so forth. But this post is not about that, for that would be idyllic and too sappy for anything but my private journal to stomach. No, this post is about the opposite side of the coin, the drawbacks of living on a 40 foot boat with four other people. This post is to complain. (And perhaps I may incidentally provide a view into daily life on the boat.)

An overview of the layout of the boat. We have five main areas- the deck, the V-berth, the head, the engine compartment, and the galley (bear with me on nautical terms, ye landlubbers, I’ll explain everything and keep them to a minimum).

-The Deck: Easy enough, the deck is the top part of the boat. There’s a seating area near the back where the wheel is, we call it the cockpit. Most time on deck is spent changing sails, on watch at the wheel, or entertaining ourselves while not on watch. Normally we amuse ourselves by reading and such in the cockpit, but occasionally we grow tired of this and resort to staring off into space from further forward locations. Best place by far to be on the boat when the seas get stormy- since below turns into a bucking madhouse filled with the crashing of unsecured items, and above has ample places to vomit over the sides.

-V-Berth: Forwardmost below decks area. Houses all of the sails not in use, all of the tools, and our brawny buckos Adub and Brazen. This six foot high space is about six feet deep and starts out with plenty of space between the two bunks that line either side of it. However, many of you have probably noticed that boats come to a point at the front. This is also true below decks and means that the boys’ bunks join into one communal (connubial?) bunk by the time you have reached the V of the aptly named V-berth. Loath to cuddle, especially when the sail driven tilt of the boat sends them rolling to one side, Brazen and Adub have erected cloths to keep them chastely separated into their own (tiny) spaces.

-The Head: I have no idea why bathrooms on boats are called this, unless it is because they are always so small that you are constantly hitting said body part on various items when all you wish to do is relieve yourself. Our head consists of a space smaller than the average port-o-pottie (oh what luxury it would be to have the space of a port-o-pottie!). This contains a defunct sink, various stuffed cabinets, a tub of Purell, a large 2 gallon canister with a nozzle (our shower) which rests in our defunct sink, and a toilet.

The toilet requires special care. It is filled with sea water and whenever one has finished doing their business, they must push the foot pedal to open the inlet, pump the handle to run water through the bowl and into the waiting storage tank, and brace themselves as best they can to avoid the extremely unfortunate circumstances that falling into the head might entail. Once you have pumped enough- 30, 40, 50 times- then you release the foot pedal and pump until all the water is gone. Then you pull the little silver button next to the toilet. This activates something I fondly call the Grinderator (a much better name than its rather pedantic moniker- “Macerator”).The Grinderator munches up everything you’ve just pumped out of the bowl and spits it out into the sea for the fish to eat. Yum yum. Then you Purell as is appropriate and either toss your used toilet paper out of the window and into the water below (if wind allows), or hop up on deck, smile at the person at the wheel, and throw it into the water from wherever the wind will allow you to do so.

-The Engine Compartment: This part of the boat, as you may have guessed, houses the engine. It is also home to Kitten and Boyscout who are each nestled into their own little cocoon-like bunk on either wall with the rather large bulk of the engine between them. The engine itself is housed within a box on top of which is our “chart table”. Perhaps this might better be known as our “excessive amounts of stuff that needs to be put away table”. I have yet to see a chart grace its surface, nor, actually, have I seen said surface. I venture into this room (which resides in the back part of below decks) only when it is unavoidable, and usually then I am on a mission to locate something that has disappeared into the mountain of stuff.

-The Galley: Unless you have not been paying attention (or you already know this because I have spoiled the punch line for you in a recent email), you may be wondering “Where does Kirin sleep?” You especially may be wondering this if you know something about boats and know that “Galley” refers to the portion of the boat used for cooking. Yes, my esteemed comrades, it’s true. I sleep in the kitchen.

This compartment, which is really the major part of below decks, is often referred to as the living room. It is in the center, where the step ladder descends from the deck, and consists of a small table, a cushioned bench that wraps around this table on three sides, a sink, a free-swinging oven and stovetop, a bit of countertop and more food storage space than one might believe possible. And where does Kirin sleep? Why, on the bench that wraps around the table, of course! It’s a bit like sleeping on the couch, but also like sleeping on the bench seating in a restaurant. An unfortunately narrow bench that is meant for upright bottoms, rather than entire reclining bodies. And it’s also like sleeping on the pantry door, since much of the food is tucked away into the bench. I have learned not to sleep when others are cooking.

As I live in public space and above most of the food, this means that all bed items must be tucked away as small as possible when not in use. I am discovering a newfound respect for the Japanese. I am sure there is some advantage to this pseudobunk (as I tend to call it), but I haven’t figured it out yet. Sufficient storage space? No. Privacy? Well, no one sleeps in the same room as me… but often my sleeping space is shared with the waking. Let’s go with no. Softer? No. Bigger? Definitely a no. Hmm. I think maybe cooler, since I cuddle with a wooden table, rather than a hot engine or another too close human. Okay. Cooler. I can work with that.

So that’s it, our cramped quarters aboard the boat. It’s not a lot, but it’s what we got, and it does. Every now and then, I do reminisce about my old loft apartment in Korea, with its big living room, extra bedroom/closet, and oodles of storage space all for me, but then I remind myself that tomorrow I’m going to see orangutans, and then I feel much better.