Photograph by Chris Ahrens

According to Chuck, “You have to be handy to live on a boat.” Mary adds, “Or you have to know who to call.”

At 2200 square feet, the average American house offers ample ways of escape from the inevitable (if occasional) unpleasantries that accompany extended cohabitation. Each party can usually find a corner into which to retreat for a respite between rounds. And if things get really bad, you can usually just step outside, maybe go for a walk. So, what if you and your cohabitator downsized to a living space roughly the size of your master bedroom, and then set it afloat? Suddenly, there is little more than a door (and sometimes, not even that) separating sleeping quarters, kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. Wave goodbye to your fancy shoe collection and the walk-in closet it inhabits. Say hello to boat life.

“We used to leave the harbor fairly often," George explains. "But now, when a four-hour excursion costs over $400 in fuel, we tend to stay home.”

Photograph by Chris Ahrens

I have long suspected that the ocean has a pulse best felt by those who live in it full-time. Called live-aboards, these folks whose home is where the harbor is tend to be well-read, unhurried, good-natured conversationalists, if sometimes given to that thousand-yard stare common to seafaring dreamers everywhere. It’s a look that can’t be contained by an office cubicle, or even a patch of earth, accompanied by a silence that seems to hint at they a vision too beautiful to communicate in ordinary language. Still, life is not always a dream for these people. Even the drowsiest eventually awaken to the sad joke: “B.O.A.T. stands for ‘break out another thousand.’” Roughly one and a half of those thousands will cover your mandatory monthly basics: boat payments, slip fees, insurance, gas, food, water. Also mandatory is regular maintenance, as your aquatic home is forever immersed in a medium that corrodes everything but the human spirit. The following live-aboards have exchanged land for water and stuff for freedom, according to them. None of those I spoke to have any intention of ever returning to the land.

George, The Woodworking Magician

George Byrum and his girlfriend of 37 years, Mara Marin, have lived aboard their 42-foot CHB motor yacht New Girl for the past eight years. While they previously spent weeks at a time at sea, most days now find them tied up to the dock in Oceanside Harbor, where George enjoys a solid reputation as a carpenter, or as fellow live-aboard Chuck Pebbles calls him, “an artist in wood.” Explains George, “We used to leave the harbor fairly often, but now, when a four-hour excursion costs over $400 in fuel, we tend to stay home.” While the wind so far remains untaxed in this state, even sailboats require fuel occasionally. (The really significant challenge to sailing in San Diego is that local waters are notoriously calm.)

Mara, who is as affable a person as you’re likely to meet, nonetheless requested to be excluded from this story. George, however, is glad to talk. According to him, “I was living on the beach in Lahaina, Maui in 1980 when I met someone living onboard a 1929 Alden schooner. He had sailed there in an Ancient Mariner’s Race and lost his rigging on the voyage. The boat was in rough shape, and he was looking for a carpenter. When I told him I was a carpenter, he offered to exchange room and board for me doing carpentry. So I stayed aboard that boat for 16 months and brought it back into shape.”

The ocean remains an untamed wilderness where most rules of land don’t apply; George first realized that in 1969 while in the Navy. “It was only about an hour after tying up at White Beach in Okinawa that we got a typhoon warning. We made it out of the harbor and rigged everything for high seas. The captain decided not to avoid the storm because it might prolong things, so instead, he turned directly into it. We faced 200-mile-an-hour sustained winds and 80-foot seas that cleaned everything off the ship’s exterior. The foc’sle and even the flight deck had peeled back even though it was 80 feet above the water. All the equipment, everything was gone. That was a rough ride.”

Despite that bump up against the elements, “I loved the Navy, and I never felt threatened, even in Da Nang during the Tet Offensive. It was like the war just went around me. I spotted this helicopter with the hatch down, dashed across the tarmac to the runway, dove into the back of this thing, and it took off. In a few minutes, we were completely out of danger. Looking back, I saw an enormous explosion after our ammo dump detonated. I had never seen anything like it.”

These days, George enjoys safer harbors, and boat life still hasn’t lost its appeal. “Mara and I like the utility of a boat, how they’re built, and how they make good use of space. I scratch my head whenever I go into a 4500-square-foot house occupied by two people and one dog. For us, the idea of living anywhere but on a boat has yet to come up” — even if it is about as far as possible from growing up on the farm in Kansas. Or maybe because of it.

Either way, farm life had its virtues. “Carpentry is one of the things you learned on a farm.” George attributes his talent for woodworking, along with his other noteworthy abilities, to his upbringing — and also to something most consider a disability. He says, “I’m dyslexic, something I consider a gift. It’s like being deaf, in a way. I grew up in a town with a deaf school, and I found deaf people have incredible talents developed through the loss of one sense. Also, I don’t dream at night, so I daydream. As a carpenter, I use a different road map than most other people.”

George says he is a “Buddhist, among other things.” He has also been a surveyor, an aviation salesman, and a band leader, something that becomes apparent Sunday evenings when he belts out Willie Nelson tunes at Coomber Craft Wines in Oceanside. Given the way he listens attentively, talks cleverly, and laughs freely, one feels George could fit in anywhere, but he prefers to fit in among his fellow live-aboards. “Live-aboards make good neighbors, and become close quickly, because they live close and often need each other’s help,” he says. “That, and focusing on the horizon take a sailor’s mind to different places. There are similarities among live-aboards, but they are also highly individualistic. I enjoy them, especially those I call ‘alcoholics with boating problems.’”

Seek, and Ye Shall Find

Giles Finlayson and I have been friends for over half a century. In that time, he has gone off the map for years at a time, only to reemerge with stories of surf spots deep in Mexico or some remote island paradise whose name nobody else knows. One of his recent Facebook posts featured his sailboat in a tranquil bay and the tantalizing caption, “Seek, and you will find.”

Giles has been deeply involved with the ocean since his childhood. He has sailed the world on his 41-foot sloop Petrel, often alone, but recently with his Thai-born-and-raised fiancé, Jan. He was first launched into the deep end by his father, famed actor/director Robert Douglas, who himself was an avid sailor. According to Giles, “My dad got into boats in the ‘40s when he was transferred to the Caribbean with his Royal Navy Swordfish squadron during WWII. In his off time, he got into small sailboats. By the time I was born, he and my mother had moved from England to Malibu. Living near the world’s most famous surf spot, surfing was a natural, but my dad directed me into powerboats, big boats, and small boats. I’ve never felt uncomfortable on the ocean, probably because I started early. From surfing, bodysurfing, sailing, canoeing, paddling, free diving, and scuba, the ocean has been my life, and it’s been a real gift. After all these years, I’m still doing all the same stuff.”

He bought his first boat — and lived aboard it — in 1976. “I did that partly because I never wanted to spend money on rent with nothing to show for it. So, buying a boat was a perfect fit for me. For about the same amount as rent, you can pay off your boat while living on it. Whatever you decide,” he warns, “make sure you’re happy, because the journey of life goes by quickly, and before you know it, you might not be able to do the things you dreamed about.”

Or meet the people who make you whole. “For many years,” says Giles, “I could be all alone on the ocean without feeling lonely. On the sea, I always had a friend, whether a bird, a dolphin, or a fish of some kind. To them, my boat was a friend. Still, having a soulmate, as I do now with Jan, is one of the most important things that can ever happen.”

Of course, it’s not all fishy friends and true love. There are lessons in self-reliance to be learned. “Something always breaks on a boat, and if you’re at sea, you have no choice but to fix it yourself. If you’re in the harbor, you might still want to do your own repairs, because having someone else do it for you is $100 an hour. Regardless, you’ve got to do maintenance. You need to check regularly to see what part of your boat is failing. One thing you need to look at every six to eight weeks is paint.”

And while stormy weather can hit the landlocked, it demands special attention on the water. “San Diego is a wonderful place to learn to operate any type of vessel. The entire West Coast is mild until you get to Oregon. That’s where things get ugly, and you have to pay attention. But anyone planning a long coastal trip or a trip to Hawaii needs to have experience and understand their boat — how it operates, and what they’re going to do in crazy weather when it starts blowing over 35 knots, which is gale force. I suggest learning from a professional or someone with much experience, so you can take your time. If you have the answer beforehand, you’re safe. The first time I encountered weather and didn’t know what to do was off the Marquesas Islands, where it was blowing 60-plus knots, accompanied by lightning and the loudest thunder I’ve ever heard.”

Giles, who has the advantage of having built houses and boats since his mid-20s, can fix most any problem he encounters aboard.

Photograph by Chris Ahrens

If you can handle that, “Rewards come in seeing things nobody else will ever see and the camaraderie you find among sailors around the world. Everyone is generally on the same page about where to get supplies and what the weather’s doing.” But even if you like your ships safe in the harbor, “One attraction, even for those who never leave the harbor, is that living on a boat is freer and more peaceful. You can spot ‘yachtys,’ sometimes called ‘grotty yachtys,’ anywhere.” They are identifiable by their shorts, slippers, and hat that’s at least 20 years old.

Giles, who has the advantage of having built houses and boats since his mid-20s, can fix most any problem he encounters aboard. At the time of this interview, he is involved in the relatively simple task of replacing a motor mount in the engine he and a friend installed years ago on the Petrel. “She was built for racing in Santa Monica Bay and not intended to go offshore. After building boats in Hawaii, however, I knew she was capable. There were no problems with her, just the everyday things everyone encounters. She’s up for sale now, and I am still determining what I’ll do if she sells. I’m so used to doing repairs all the time.”

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing for Giles. Referring to some of the rough times, he says, “I got some cancer in 2012, and I was run over by a fishing boat where the prop disconnected my arms. I had to rehab for two and a half to three years, and then only came back to 70 percent. But I’m alive and still able to carry on. Things happen, but you have to enjoy every day, because you never know what tomorrow will produce. I went to church when I was younger before I started surfing. So, there’s always been somebody there, and I’ve talked to that somebody many times when I was scared or needed advice.”

The Three Heroes

Chuck and Mary Pebbles have been together for 50-plus years. According to Mary, “We had a good-sized house, but when our girls left, we began to downsize. When you downsize to something like a boat, nobody can have a mood. Once our daughters moved out, we thought we’d get as close to the ocean as our money would take us. We were in Oceanside one morning when Chuck said, ‘Let’s go to the harbor and look at boats.’ We immediately fell in love with this boat, and within about 15 minutes of seeing it, we bought it.” The 41-foot trawler Roughwater is situated in Oceanside Harbor, just around the corner from Sophia Joy, the couple’s Newport 30 sailboat, which they use for more economical ocean voyages.

According to Chuck, “You have to be handy to live on a boat.” Mary adds, “Or you have to know who to call.” One of those somebodies is their neighbor and fellow live-aboard, the aforementioned George Byrum. Chuck, who has made his living as a civil engineer for the past four decades, sketches what he wants to do to the boat before handing the sketch to George, who then meticulously applies his magic to the aging wood of the majestic Roughwater. The results are happily displayed in the functional and beautiful living space Chuck and Mary are proud to call home.

Also according to Chuck, “Along with George, there are two others that have been fabulous in helping us with our boat: Mario Gutierrez, who owns a company called ‘Mario’s Boats,’ and Chris Tant, whom we call ‘Mister Incredible’ because of his ability to build almost anything. George practically lived on our boat for two years. Every day, he would come in here with his tools and do his artwork. Chris did a lot of the unique metalwork you see on our boat. He can build anything, but he’ll say he’s no artist. Well, he is. He builds beautiful guitars, and he’s making me a ukulele on a 3-D printer. He built his entire boat, all the stanchions, metalwork, sails. Everything except the motor.

“Mario painted our boat and did all the varnish. Initially, I figured we would paint the boat out in about three weeks. We laugh about that now because we started almost six years ago, and we’re still not done. If there’s any moisture in the air, you can’t work. This means there are only little windows available to work. We call George, Mario, and Chris ‘the three heroes.’ If Mary and I were doing this together, we wouldn’t be a third of the way along. If you’re going to live on a boat, you have to love it, and Mary and I love every second of living here.”

He has some advice for those who can’t live there every second. “The State of California allows only 10 percent of those in the harbor to live aboard, but even if you’re not permitted to live aboard, you can stay on your boat three days and two nights. Some stay without a permit, which some people call ‘sneak-aboards,’ but we don’t like that term. Those people have made their investment, they love their boat, and it’s a public harbor.”

With housing prices beyond the reach of most young people on the California coast, it seems natural that more young people are considering living aboard. But according to Chuck, “Young couples who want to live aboard have to ask themselves questions like, ‘Are we going to have children?’”  While harbors are generally safe, there are exceptions. Chuck notes that “our friend Stewy’s first boat burned, as did the boat next to his. It was a March day, and the winds were blowing about 35-40 miles per hour. We heard somebody yelling that there was smoke coming from one of the boats. It turned out to be the Sea Tiger, a historic boat initially owned by the guy who started the Flying Tigers for the Air Force. We called 911, and the fire department got here promptly. A police officer and a couple of lifeguards also came down. I said, ‘I don’t know if we can save either of the boats now, but let’s get this third one off the dock to create a fire break so the rest of the line doesn’t go down.’ These two young lifeguards jumped in the water. They had ropes over them, and they literally swam this big, heavy boat across the harbor, where they tied it off. The police and the fire department were also amazing. Oceanside is very blessed to have those types of people working for them. I was just about to cut the Sea Tiger loose and push it out; I was about ten feet away when ka-boom, the boat blew up. The Lord saved me that day, because I could have been in the middle of that and never known what hit me. It was a huge explosion. Living on a boat increases your prayer life.”

Still, the Oceanside Harbor is usually far more peaceful than it was that day. According to Mary, “I sleep much better on a boat than I do on land. The negative ions in the water, the sounds of the breeze, the buoy, and the boat itself. If you listen to your boat, it’ll tell you what it needs,” she says, before Chuck adds, “They’re living organisms.”

For anyone considering buying a boat to live on, Chuck has this advice: “Make sure it has a slip that is transferable, and understand the limitations of whatever boat you’re buying.” Mary adds, “You should know if your boat is plumbed for water where you can use shore water, or if you need to keep water in holding tanks.” Chuck resumes: “Sailboats are narrower, and they are like living in a hallway with accessories on either side. They also sit lower in the water than powerboats, so they are colder in colder water. All boats, whether brand new or 30-50 years old, which is what our boat is, need maintenance. As much as you might love the beach, when you live on the water, salt air and salt water are your enemies. We’ve owned this boat for seven years, and from day one, we’ve been working on it.”

It remains, however, worth it. Concludes Mary, “I was quite the gardener when we lived in Hemet, but I don’t miss it. And you have to realize you can’t bring everything with you. You only have room for so much. Whenever my daughters ask me what I want, I tell them not to get me anything because I have no place to keep it. We have everything right here.”