Life, As it Happens
When Covid brought us back to California, we were fully expecting to climb back aboard Pristine and continue the adventure. But ongoing variants made it clear it would be a couple more years before we could head out for the kind of cruising we love.
As for our sailboat, maintaining Pristine to an ocean-crossing standard, where every cotter pin must be bulletproof and every system redundant, was starting to limit our enjoyment of land-based life. So we made the bold decision to sell her, and six weeks from calling the broker, we'd closed escrow.
People say buying your boat is the happiest day of your life and second happiest is selling her. That's not quite how it felt for us. Letting go of Pristine was tough, but our memories from our time aboard are priceless, and it felt like the right move.
So we've moved in to a temporary home on land and are still covered head to toe in speckles of Pearly Cotton paint, as we freshen up every wall, window frame, and ceiling beam.
What next?
Yes. I agree. Great question.
The last couple months we've been inside a snow globe full of swirling changes, and need to let things settle a bit before we can clearly see where to go from here.
One possibility would eventually be to double down on sailing by selling the house and upsizing the boat. That would make exactly zero sense financially, but could be a brilliant life experience investment. But I'm just spitballing. For the moment, even my never-ending planner-self is quiet, patient, and waiting for clarity to arrive when it's good and ready.
We may not know which way the winds of our future will blow us, but we're confident in our ability to respond with gratitude and gusto. And for now, to focus on what's five feet in front of us.
For me, that's a few more coats of Pearly Cotton and laying down 40,000 words of a new novel.
Fair winds,
Cheyenne
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