A Single Woman's Life on a Boat
A Single Woman's Life on a Boat

A Single Woman’s Life on a Boat

•  4 minute read

Living on a boat may sound charming or like a grand adventure, but make no mistake  – this lifestyle doesn't come cheap.

A Single Woman's Life on a Boat. Living on a boat may sound like an adventure, but have no illusion, boat living doesn’t come cheap. Electricity, dockage, and the never-ending maintenance all cost a pretty penny. I should know. I've been living it for a few years.

 

Living on a boat may sound like an adventure, but have no illusions – boat living doesn’t come cheap. Electricity, dockage, and the never-ending maintenance all cost a pretty penny. I should know. I’ve been living it for a few years.
Living on a boat may sound charming or like a grand adventure, but make no mistake – this lifestyle doesn't come cheap.

There’s constant ongoing maintenance when you live on a boat.

 

For example, there’s painting the bottom of the boat to discourage barnacles. There’s also having the boat bottom cleaned regularly because barnacles still find a way to cover anything submerged, having the boat waxed, and similar tasks are all charged by the foot, so the bigger the boat, the bigger the bill. In April, I chose a month-to-month lease at my marina. I did this hoping to eventually head “south” during the cold months. But that was not to be.

 

I recently switched back to an annual lease for my slip. Instead of paying $711.75 per month at the $18.25 per foot month-to-month rate, I now pay $1,325 per quarter ($441.67 per month). On the downside, I am locked into the lease for a year.

 

One of the big benefits of being at this particular marina is that electricity is included in my rate.

 

At my old marina, I was paying $500 per month, plus electricity, which can become very costly when running air conditioning or heat. I had some painful $200 monthly electric bills in the winter at my old marina. Boats are not well-insulated. Even though the space is small, the heat or air conditioning has to run constantly when needed. Once, when it was a sweltering 90 degrees inside the boat and I couldn’t sleep, I started waxing nostalgic for the wintertime, when my sheets would literally freeze to the hull!

 

It may seem like an inexpensive lifestyle on the surface. my own small floating apartment for less than $500 a month in rent. But nothing comes cheap with a boat.

 

When the boat needs repairs (which is always), I can’t just run out to Home Depot for parts. The marine environment is harsh, and everything seems to corrode or mold. Marine equipment is always significantly more costly than the regular household version – even if the only difference is that the manufacturer stuck the word “marine” on the label.

 

Something that would cost $5 for household repairs will somehow cost $20 for your boat.

 

Repairmen regularly charge $95 per hour. So if you can’t fix it yourself, you better have a sizeable bankroll. Ninety-nine percent of liveaboards seem to have an engineering background and are adept at repairs. I’m the other one percent – an artsy hippie chick who owns a lot of tools, but only knows how to use a handful of them. Unless I can dramatically enhance my financial situation, I’m going to have to dramatically enhance my handyman skills!

 

But aside from the complications and expenses of boat life, my bad credit means that I live in a cash and debit card world, period.

 

While I can use my debit card for online purchases, reservations, and general expenses, it also means that my checking account is all I have. So it’s at risk if someone uses my debit card number fraudulently. This is something that has happened twice in as many months, wiping out the entire balance in my only bank account each time. Not having access to a traditional credit card in today’s world is a huge challenge.

 

One of my other big challenges this past year has been not having a car. I bought an old beater that turned out to be a money pit, so I had to give up and do without. Although I am an attorney by trade, I am not admitted in the state where I now live. So I am limited in what legal work I can find. Even if I were admitted to practice law locally, there are many more attorneys than there is work to go around.

 

I AM USUALLY ON ASSIGNMENT AS A TEMP, NEVER KNOWING FROM DAY TO DAY HOW LONG A PROJECT WILL LAST.

 

It’s a two-hour commute each way to get to my current job. I walk a mile to catch a commuter bus, and then ride into the city for $5 each way. Being able to drive to the train would add gas and parking expenses of about $10 per day. But it would save me an hour or more in total commute time.

 

Being on a boat means that I can’t store a year’s supply of anything – space is always at a premium.

 

I usually borrow a car from a dock-mate every couple of weeks to make large grocery runs. Sometimes I walk to the liquor store with my dog and carry purchases home in a backpack. I sometimes pay the higher prices at the fancy farmer’s market because it’s within walking distance. Getting to the larger, more affordable farmer’s market would take a couple of bus transfers.

 

Right now, I am bracing myself to take on the cold.

 

While boat living is challenging, it also has its charm.  My half-a-million dollars in student debt has made simple living a necessity.  Stay tuned for my next post where I tell you how I got here.

 

*Name has been changed to protect privacy