Money and the Cruising Lifestyle

By Dave and Jaja

A question we are frequently asked is: "How do you afford to cruise?" This is a good question, but few cruisers give honest answers. Jaja and I are also reticent to blurt out our financial situation. We usually hedge and say things such as "It costs what'cha got," or, "It's all a matter of priorities," or, (my favorite) "It's really none of your business."

Cruising is a lifestyle like any other; you must accept certain trade-offs to make it work. Attitude is often a bigger stumbling block than lack of finances. It is natural to want a big boat, all the "right" gear, and a platinum cruising budget. Who doesn't want the best?

It is easy to pick up a false perception of what equipment is necessary for an extended voyage. Sailing magazines, which provide a wealth of information on cruising gear and equipment, can give the impression that the only way to afford cruising is to be extremely wealthy. Is all that expensive gear really necessary? Having lots of money (or a hoard or sailing gear) is a relative thing. Many people tend to want just a little bit more than they can afford.

In 20 years I have made three voyages on three different boats. The first cruise was aboard a stock 25-foot Cal, the MARTINI. The second voyage was aboard our heavily modified 25 foot Cal, DIRECTION. The third (and ongoing) voyage began in North Carolina in 1997, aboard our 22-year old, 33-foot steel sloop, DRIVER.

The "It's All a Matter of Priorities" Technique

In 1981 (when I was 17) my dad and I wanted to go cruising. I was working full time in the Seattle area making 6 bucks an hour. My dad was working full time making $26,000 a year. We shopped for boats and figured our finances.

We looked at our options. A used boat in the thirty-foot range would require monthly payments for a number of years. That didn't do us much good because we wanted to leave immediately. Fortunately, we already had a 25-foot Cal (the MARTINI) which was paid for. Value: $7,000. We figured that if John Guzzwel could circumnavigate on a 20-footer (TREKKA), and if the Pardeys could cruise on a 24-footer, then 25 feet was no problem.

Our next challenge was to figure out how we could save enough money to go cruising for 18 months to 2 years without working.

My dad sold his beloved Ford van (which was all tricked out) and he leased a Volkswagen diesel Rabbit. He moved out of his apartment, sold all his belongings, and together we lived dockside at Seattle's Shilshole Marina for nearly two years.

We made very minor modifications to the MARTINI (see The Voyage of the MARTINI). We bought new sails, new rigging, and new anchors. When we set out in June 1983, our 25-footer was now "worth" 14,000 dollars. With both of us working, and living on the boat, we managed to bank 16,000 dollars.

Our subsequent 18-month-long, 10,000-mile voyage took us northward from Puget Sound, around Vancouver Island, then south to Mexico. From Mexico we sailed along Costa Rica's coastline, through the Panama Canal, then up through the Caribbean to New York. At the end of the voyage we still had $6,000 left. We had lived very cheaply. We NEVER stayed in marinas. Our diet consisted chiefly of fish and rice. The few times we ate out were in Mexico and Central America where one can hardly afford not to. The MARTINI was simple. No refrigeration, no sat nav, solar panels, or other fancy electronics. We used a sextant to navigate with.

All in all, it was a good trip. We had wanted to get away and have an adventure so badly that creature comforts were not important to us. It was a journey my dad and I will never forget.

The "It Costs What'cha Got" Method

After the MARTINI voyage from Seattle to New York, my dad and I parted ways. (Still good friends.) He went back to the West Coast to pursue a new career in the marine industry. I went on to pursue my career - which was to keep cruising. I was 21.

When I was growing up, my dad said he would send me to college. However, when we parted ways in New York, he gave me the MARTINI instead. Unfortunately, the boat was a mess. Our long, North American coastal voyage had literally shaken the boat to pieces. Bulkheads were loose, the rudder was disintegrating, and the cockpit was too big. We had discovered, from harsh experience, that it was a perilous liability when filled with sea water. (see The Voyage of the MARTINI, Part 3)

I took a job at a Long Island boat yard, making ten bucks an hour, and in my spare time I ripped the MARTINI to pieces. My goal was to completely rebuild the boat by myself and sail around the world. I needed a place to live during the reconstruction so the boat yard manager made a deal with me. If I would accept being "on call" 24 hours a day, he would let me live for free at the yard in the dusty storeroom above the wood shop. I eagerly accepted.

During the next 18 months I poured all my money into building 25-foot DIRECTION from the broken MARTINI. The refit cost me $10,000. When I set sail in 1987, I had $1,000 cash in my wallet. I did not have a bank account or a credit card. Everything I owned was on the boat.

Jaja and I met several months later, and together we spent 7 years working our way around the world while simultaneously propagating the human species. We lived hand to mouth. We worked at a hotel in the Caribbean. I did commercial scuba diving in Samoa, made house and boat repairs in Australia and New Caledonia, and I built a boat for a guy in New Zealand. One thing I learned: If I needed a job bad enough, I could always find one. Before we stared having kids, we spent $5,000 a year. Afterwards, we spent $8,000. For the most part, we worked for six months and cruised for six months.

To live cheaply, we avoided marinas like the plague, we seldom bought alcohol, and we NEVER ate out. Our diet consisted of rice, pasta, and potatoes - when we could afford it we bought vegetables and meat.

DIRECTION was also a simple boat that required little maintenance. We hand-scrubbed the bottom with a brush for years - all in an effort to avoid the high cost of boat yards and antifouling paint.

While trying to save money, we learned a very important lesson: Before the voyage begins, and you are buying the necessary gear items (sails, engines, rope, chain, anchors, batteries, solar panels, light fixtures, deck hardware, etc...) try to buy the best. Buying cheap stuff may allow you to leave land with more hard cash, but the cheap stuff will break when it is least convenient to replace/fix/afford it. Cheap gear may even break at a very bad moment, and pose a threat to your life.

Make two lists: One is a list a the of gear you have to have, the other is a list of the gear you want to have. Throw the second list away.

The "It's Really None of Your Business" Technique

Here's how we afforded the DRIVER voyage to the arctic:

Near the very end of DIRECTION voyage, after having spent years busting our tails to survive - both at sea and financially - we inherited what seemed to us to be a large sum of money. It's as simple as that. One day we were basically penniless, the next day we were not.

We still couldn't afford a Beowulf 78, and we still had to work. But we definitely had a little more cash than before. A wise investor might have banked it all for old age and retirement. Not us. As long as we had our health, we wanted to use it for Today. "Live now, and spend wisely" became our new slant on life. With many years of living frugally behind us, we saw no reason to change our tune. We sought the strongest, smallest boat we could comfortable squeeze our growing family of five into. After months of searching, we found DRIVER. (See Roots of a Voyage).

DRIVER cost $25,000, and her complete refit cost us another $35,000. It is difficult these days to get an offshore cruising boat together for $60,000, but with imagination, anything is possible. DRIVER is also very low maintenance. Once again, we did all the refit work ourselves, we put only the best gear aboard for the money, and during the past 4 years we have performed all the maintenance ourselves.

"It costs what'cha got" is the best way to describe the cruising lifestyle. I've always believed that if you want something bad enough (to go cruising for example) things will fall into place if you accept your personal financial situation. Forget how others are doing it. If a 25-foot boat and a rice diet are are all that stand in your way of living a dream, and if you can accept that lifestyle, you will discover infinite ways to prepare rice. Find a way that works for you, and go for it!