The Moxie crew has been traveling for nearly 22 months, and 14 of those months we’ve lived aboard our floating home, moving along bit by bit, anchorage to anchorage to marina to anchorage.  Except for the rare hike or run that required sneakers, we’ve worn flipflops or gone barefoot for nearly 2 years.  We’ve sailed to 10 countries and too many individual islands to count.  We’ve taken a stab at three languages as we’ve traveled, and our spare change bowl holds pesos, euros, Eastern Carribean dollars (plus a few random seashells that seem to find their way into every container we own).    We’ve gone swimming with sharks, turtles, and dolphins, developed a serious passion for surfing, and we’ve read more than 20 chapter books out loud to our kids.  We’ve suffered through nasty sails, cheered our way through great sails, and mostly beat our heads against the wall through monotonous and uncomfortable sails.  We’ve been terrified and triumphant, bewildered and ecstatic, worried, frustrated, confused, enlightened, exuberant, and humbled.  This trip has been everything, all at once, and so much more than we expected or envisioned when we hatched this crazy plan 3 years ago. So as the 2 year mark of our journey looms near we are asking ourselves, “What now?” 

Part of me feels like, “We’ve enjoyed summer vacation for 2 years.  It’s time to go back to school!”  But I know better than to listen that voice—it’s a product of the American culture that we come from, one that no longer defines me but has a funny way of creeping back into my subconscious every now and then like a bad rash.  Going home to Telluride is inevitable, we will eventually return.  And when we do go back, we’ll be back for good.   We’ll have to buy cars again, get insurance, do all the things that normal life requires of you.  Once we’re back to reality, it will be extremely difficult logistically to leave it again.  Abandoning a well-established life to start a brand new one takes at least a year of planning and some seriously intensive labor (we know this because we’ve done it once already).  Once we’re back to the real world of school and work and regular life, that’s it, we are locked in.  And while the thought of that isn’t entirely repulsive, it also doesn’t feel quite right.  We are already OUT.  It was hard getting here.  We don’t feel ready to give up OUT and go back IN. 

Another big reason to keep traveling are the benefits this experience is affording our children.  The wealth of cultural, creative, and experiential learning they soak up on a daily basis is mind-blowing to us.  Sailing as a family has helped Hud and Viv to boldly grow as individuals, gain incredible confidence, become independent in the very best ways, and to gain a breadth of understanding we never knew was possible in kids their ages.  And even more valuable than that is the TIME we get with them.  We have time to talk, to really listen, to explain and debate and learn and play together, every single day.  This is the ultimate GOLD of this experience, we see the good it does for our children, and we are reluctant to let it go.

Financially, we can’t sustain this forever.  But we’ve kept to our budget and we think we can eke out a little more time, especially if we tighten our belts a bit more.  So we’ve got some decisions to make...where to spend the hurricane season and where to put Moxie during that time?  We always go to Maine to visit our families in the summer, how long should we spend this year?  And after the hurricane season, what next?  More sailing?  Or do we go totally off the rails and try something totally new?  It’s time to do some soul-searching and plan the next chunk of our lives.  As Trav always says, “We’ll send you a postcard when we get there.”

Thanks so much for reading.  (I am going to try to post more often, especially now that we’ve left you hanging 😊). xo