Like it or not, Christmas is over and New Years is a few days away. We’ve reached the end the first part of our adventure; we’ve traveled the entire Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway and we’re about to embark on an adventure to the Bahamas.

Our journey began in early September this year. That means we have now sailed slowly, and not particularly surely, towards southerly latitudes for four months. Having reached such a milestone, many sailors like to draw a summary of the highlights, measure how well their expectations were met about their journey and so on. It’s a good idea, so why not give it a try.

While preparing for our big sailing trip we devoured as many sailing and cruising books, blogs and vlogs we could get our hands on. So we were aware of the many challenges that long-term cruising sailors usually face – such as making ends meet financially, getting along with each other in tight spaces and sometimes difficult situations, keeping in touch with family and friends back at home, boat maintenance and repair, route planning and keeping to the plan, and naturally all kinds of unexpected troubles, which are difficult to anticipate, because they are so unexpected.

We knew to expect certain extra costs from the start, because we embarked on our journey on a 25-year old boat. In Annapolis MD, we replaced new hailyards then new anchor windlass in Beaufort SC. Our first stops at many ports are usually hardware stores to look for miscellaneous broken parts. We knew that something always breaks on a boat, and parts and replacements are frequently needed. But the amount of things that broke still surprised us – and I’m sure it will surprise every cruiser, no matter how well they think they are prepared.

Our boat has proved herself very reliable, sturdy and stable, so we’ve never had any fears or doubts about her seaworthiness. We are still learning as we go, and are getting more and more confident in boat handling,  docking, anchoring and sail trim and handling different situations. But an old boat is like an old house, it wears with the years and needs a lot of love and care. And often it’s not the heavy use, but the lack of it, that turns out to be the most fatal.

Besides seaworthiness, our choice for a boat has also proved very livable. On our journey we noted the practical layout, the great kitchen, living room and the large forward cabin. Enjoying good food is our dearest hobby, so we were not going to be cooking in camping conditions. The galley is roomy but also very well designed to work underway. Our bedroom in the forward cabin is spacious and airy, and we have hot water and a shower, so we can keep ourselves looking and smelling human, if required.

The best thing about living on a boat is having our home always with us. We travel from one port to another and soon another country (Bahamas). Our passports are always safe in their drawer, spices on their shelf, and our clothes in their closets. We never have to carry suitcases. It’s exciting to see new places, when you can go home every night and sleep in your own comfortable bed. It might be a bit tight inside our floating house, but outside we can usually see the horizon – and if we get tired of the landscape, we can change it!

At the beginning of our trip we had route plans and initial schedules for the first month at least. But it wasn’t long until we found ourselves being ruthlessly educated about planning ahead, and have been very relaxed about routes, destinations and schedules ever since.

We weren’t really concerned about living in tight spaces prior to our journey. We had spent 35 summers on boats ranging from 22, 27, 34 to 40 ft sailboats, with very basic comforts and enough headroom for sitting down, and we had returned from those trips in sweet harmony. Of course, 2- weeks vacations in the summer don’t really compare to living aboard full-time and travelling for months on end. But we were confident we could endure quite a bit. Four months have now gone, and we’re not yet on the war path. Naturally, our needs for privacy, peace, and concentration are not as easily met as in a regular house – you can often close a door behind you even on a boat, but the sound insulation might not be that great. On the other hand, there’s plenty of room outside, if you need some distance.

No matter how great your travel companion(s) might be, you still miss the friends and family back home. Fortunately, it’s quite easy these days to keep in touch, unlike in the past, when snail-mail letters and hasty collect calls were the only way to communicate. Still, phone calls, and Zoom calls are poor substitutes for meeting face to face.

Fortunately we’ve met many wonderful people along the way that have managed to touched and inspired us. Like Ro & Steve, a nicest couple we met at the Commodore theatre in Portsmouth VA, who offered to gave us a ride to make sure we didn’t miss the ferry and get home safely; the single handed woman Cass on “E Sea Ryder” whose husband passed away right after they bought their dream boat and decided to continued the dream by herself to honor her husband; Steve the captain of “Blue Moon” who cruises with his wife, in wheelchair, and planning on traveling around the world; Ed, the happiest captain of “Mama Bear”, after losing his wife to cancer, embarking on a cruise to Key West, constantly helping others with biggest smiles. How lucky are we to have met these people.

This time of reflection gives us perspective as we embark on the New Year, but it can happen whenever we choose. It can be incredibly rewarding to take time each week, month, or any ordinary day to appreciate where we have been able to take ourselves and to acknowledge the challenges we are still working through. It shows us the grey amidst the black and white. It shows us that while progress may seem slow, we are indeed moving forward, and that each step forward is teaching us along the journey.