Meet Savali, our bluewater tiny home. Loosely translated, her name is Samoan for “she walks.” Greg had been racing sailboats for years and was looking for a comfortable floating home that could handle long, slow voyages. There’s no need for this lady to run…walking will do just fine. She is a 38-foot Bruce Roberts ketch sailboat with a center cockpit.
Living on a sailboat certainly adjusts your priorities. Space is at a premium and living aboard requires adopting a minimalist lifestyle. While it may seem that culling the detritus of your life would be overwhelming, I found the process to be cathartic. I didn’t realize how burdensome my “stuff” had become until I let most of it go. I have found that I don’t really need eight different spatulas in the kitchen…one will do just fine. And those ten scarves I never wore but held onto because I just adored the color and texture (even though they were always getting in my way in the closet)…gone.
This is our main salon and galley, where we make healthy home-cooked meals and have epic game nights. Playing Unstable Unicorns with the kids can get pretty cutthroat! I enjoy the intimacy of this space – it allows us to do everything together as a family, from cooking and washing dishes to working on art projects. Or dimming the lights and settling in for popcorn and a movie.
This is our bedroom in the aft cabin. We each have a closet and canvas storage bins on the shelves (there is also extra storage under the bed). The queen-sized mattress is comfortable memory foam, perfect for snuggling up and reading in bed together. Boatbuilders make use of every inch of space – the autopilot system and water heater are actually under the bed.
This is the forward cabin where Isabella and Aiden (or guests) sleep. There is storage underneath and I have also added hanging storage baskets. There is a step with storage, which Isabella has claimed for her art gear. We added touch-sensitive LED lights with USB charge ports in both bedrooms. The kids enjoy relaxing in here after a long day of adventuring, with the fairy lights on and the hatch wide open.
All boat folks complain about the marine toilet – flushing is a process that must be done with some finesse. And when you visit someone else’s boat for the first time, there will be a lesson on how to use the “head.” Showers are taken right over the toilet. The water goes into the bilge and is pumped overboard.
For the most part, I enjoy this unique lifestyle. Living with such a small footprint allows us to live more authentically in line with our values, allowing us to travel and explore. We have worked hard to make this a comfortable home. I suppose the worst complaint I could muster (aside from the toilet) is that even after more than a year of living aboard, I still manage to bump my knee on the ladder going up the hatch or knock my head when I forget to duck going into the navigation room. Greg jokingly tells me I should work on my situational awareness!