Occasionally, I close my eyes and daydream of scenes like this:
Then I open my eyes and see this:
We're immersed in all the details of getting this new boat ready on a very accelerated schedule - sails, rigging, autopilot, electrical, the anchoring and propane systems, deck hardware, the galley setup, routine maintenance, etc. etc. etc. Galactic has never crossed an ocean before, so most of the work that we're taking on involves adding the gear and features that we think are important for long-distance sailing with the family. There's so much to do in such a short time that we are hiring out big chunks of the work, something we almost never did on Pelagic.
Our schedule is so tight that we're provisioning even as we fit out the boat.
During our year of looking for this boat, Alisa and I talked a lot about the big picture: what this living afloat stuff really means, what sort of things we're looking for with this next chapter, our hopes and aspirations, that sort of thing. With any luck I'll be writing about all that in the months to come, but for now any hope of making sense of the big picture has given way to an all-day-every-day effort to just get to sea. I'm living with a job list in hand, and fueling myself with a steady diet of coffee, chocolate and beer.
Meanwhile, though, this new boat has become our family home.
Both boys quickly got used to having their own bunks. Elias seems to see his bunk the same way that fishermen in Alaska view their bunks - as the only place on the boat that can be considered personal space. Note the horse-themed decor.
Eric's bunk, on the other hand, is a more spartan affair.