Become a Minimalist

As a bluewater cruiser for nearly thirty years, I’ve seen the same tale over and over again. New cruisers embrace the new cruising life as high rollers their first year or two. They eat out in expensive restaurants, buy things they don’t need, and generally throw money around like it grows on trees. After a year or two, they are forced to return to the workforce, and end up selling their boat. Such a short time for a dream that took years to arrange. My husband and I relish our new cruising friendships. We’d like to see them stay out longer.

Here are a few tips to first-timers. My husband calls it, “Becoming a minimalist”. It may require adopting a Buddha nature to learn to become unattached to STUFF, but with diligence and self-discipline, you’ll find the end is worth it.

1. Eat at home, instead of in restaurants. Use new spices and produce grown on the island to create zest in your food preparation.

2. Invite friends over for a potluck. In every new port, we try to arrange either potluck sundowners or dinners, where everyone brings their own favorite dish and beverage. Being the host and doing clean-up duty afterwards, is my part in bringing new friends together, which they greatly appreciate.

3. Another option instead of dining in restaurants is to arrange a picnic on a sheet next to a brook in the rain forest or on the beach. It’s fun, and rarely practiced anymore. Friends say, “That was a great idea!”`

4. Shop in farmers’ markets, instead of supermarkets. It’s far more fun to chat up a produce merchant in the market stalls. Often it’s a grandmother or mother, who relishes passing down family recipes to prepare the new foodstuff you’ve just bargained over.

5. Cut down on alcohol, an expensive item, or at least moderate your intake. If you add up your weekly booze bill, you’ll find it may have become higher than the food bill, simply because partying is such a part of the cruising culture. It doesn’t have to be. Adopt measures and stick by them. You’ll be far healthier in the end.

6. Never grocery shop on an empty stomach. I’ve seen myself buy out the whole store, when half starving to death. Eat before you go. You’d be shocked how low your bill can get.

7. Always take a list to the marine stores. Ask yourself, “Do I need this or do I just want it?” Put back the ‘want’ on the shelf and forget about it. The but, but, buts can go on forever.

8. Take a bag sandwich on island tours, along with a liter of water; otherwise, you’ll find yourself picking your pockets for another unanticipated meal. This works especially well with children. You can better control their diet; they’re always hungry. A granola bar and sandwich is much healthier than fried chicken from a road stall.

9. For repairs, try to have them done in ports where you know the tradesmen are well-trained. Ask around. Often, you can be stuck hauled out, waiting for marina repairs that don’t seem to ever come. We’ve known of friends hauled out on the hard for two months, while waiting for repairs to START. Talk to a cruiser who has hauled before at the same marina, who can attest to their integrity. Confirm the time and date that work will commence. It if hasn’t within a sensible frame of time, don’t hang around.

10. Invite family and close friends from home to visit you, instead of you flying out to visit them. Your boat has to be safe and cared for at a marina or on a mooring, further reaching into your pocket, when you depart. When your loved ones visit, take them grocery shopping on the first day and split the bill. Putting them up during their say is an act of grace, but assuming all expenses is not expected or necessary. All our old-time cruising friends have adopted this practice after their first years of agonizing monetary pain, seeing their cruising budget diminish in a very short time by hosting loved ones. Once your family understands the practice of visiting on your boat, they’ll visit more often, freeing you up to not only enjoy their stay more, but allowing you to remain cruising just a little bit longer.

“That’ll be $40,” the pretty barmaid said to my new cruising girl buddy, Lyla, who rumbled around in her knapsack for the required funds. I handed over my share of the $2.00 for my Diet Coke. Inside the “Happy People” café, we’d been sharing our cruising yarns of having crossed the Anegada Passage with our husbands for the first time, watching the colorful crowd come and go. New to cruising, their crossing had been a particularly bumpy one, but with her spirit being like that of an eagle, I knew she’d adapt well, although her cruising adventures looked as if they may be a short one. So far, her consumer habits seemed more conducive to a working woman, than that of a cruiser.

“How long do you think you’ll be out cruising?” I asked Lyla.

“About year, when the cruising kitty goes,” she replied.