Life as a Nomad
You all know the word
nomad. You’ve seen films about nomads perhaps
narrated by David Attenborough. But have you ever actually met a true nomad in
real life? Yes, you have. Libby and I lived 12 years as nomads aboard
our sailboat.
Madam toastmaster, I would
like to share some of that experience.
I define nomads as:
1. People almost constantly on the move.
2. Whose movements are annual and repetitive.
3. They have no mailing address.
Among boaters, we were called
cruisers, not nomads. We were the
elite. But on land and with no mailing
address, we were among the most despised segments of society.
How so? Consider the pejorative words synonymous with
nomad. Migrant, vagabond, hobo,
rambler, rover, wanderer, transient, tramp, bum, derelict, outcast, drifter,
loafer, in England traveler, and in Australia swagman.
On the other hand, people who
travel but are presumed to have a mailing address get more respect. Explorer,
pilgrim, pioneer, adventurer, tourist.
If you don’t have a mailing address,
and your mail is sent to “general delivery”, you can’t get a photo ID, or a bank
account, or a credit card, or a stimulus check, or buy insurance. You can’t qualify as a resident of any state which
means you can’t register to vote. And
most of all, before zoom you couldn’t join a toastmasters club.
But there is a loophole and the
loophole is delightful. You can hire a
private remailing service and use the service’s address as your home
address. That fools most governments.
But here’s an amusing
exception. Somehow, the city of Marathon
in the Florida Keys learned that many boaters in the harbor used a remailing
service in Green Cove Springs, Florida.
After that, anyone in Marathon showing ID with a Green Cove Springs
address was given the bum’s rush.
But back on the positive
side, my blog followers repeatedly said that Libby and I were “living the
dream.” The cruising life really is the
dream for millions of people. There must
be big benefits to make that lifestyle so compellingly appealing. Indeed, there are. I’ll tell you about three.
Cruisers have more freedom
than just about anyone else on this planet.
Nobody tells us what to do. When
we see a place we like, we just drop the anchor and stay a while. When we tire of that place, we raise the
anchor and sail away. We never ask
permission to do that. If you yearn to
be a free spirit, then the ultimate freedom is best achieved aboard a boat.
We used that freedom to make
two huge lifestyle choices. First, we
decided to focus on the east coast of North America plus The Bahamas as our
cruising ground. Second, we elected to
migrate north every summer and south every winter. In other words, we chose year-round nice
weather. No heating or cooling required
ever.
On the boat, we had only 200
square feet of living space. But it was very comfortable, and completely
functional. We had enough storage space for a whole year’s food for two
people. Our solar panel provided our
electrical needs. Our transportation
was provided by the wind and by rowing. The
sun heated water for showers. I learned to do almost all necessary repairs and
renovations without help. Self-sufficiency
is very appealing. We had it and it felt
great.
But most important, after a
couple of years cruising, Libby and I realized that we had adapted to the
simple life. We owned no house, no
storage locker, no microwave, no car, no TV.
Everything we owned in the world we carried with us on the boat. We paid no insurance. We paid no taxes. No garbage collection fee. In fact, we had no recurring bills and no debt
of any kind. We were no longer part of
the consumer culture. It was as if a
time machine had transported us back to a simpler era.
What does all this mean to you? Maybe
you think your lifestyle is locked in, allowing you no flexibility at all. Maybe not.
My message to all of you is this.
“If you come upon the opportunity to choose or to change your lifestyle,
give it serious consideration and discuss it with your partner. The benefits can be enormous.
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