Maggie's Farm

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Ah, it sounds so romantic, doesn't it?
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The liveaboard life!

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Life on your own ship of the high seas!� Master of your fate!� "Clang-clang!� Bo-wheee!"� Make your own fun boat noises as you�slip on your pirate's eye patch and barrel�through the middle of the harbor at full speed,�capsizing every small boat within�three miles, ignoring the screams of the drowning and injured as you head out to sea for another�great day�of terrorizing scuba divers!

And that's just one of the fun things you�can do with�your motoryacht!

Me, I like imitating Coast Guard vessels.� It's surprisingly easy to do, and you know how�gullible people are.� A�simple rental uniform, throw a couple of sheets over the side with big�Navy-like numbers on them, grab your megaphone�and go hunting for some drunk party-goers.� "THIS IS THE UNITED STATES COAST GUARD.� HAND OVER ALL�YOUR BOOZE, DRUGS AND COLLEGE-AGE WOMEN AND YOU WILL BE RELEASED UNHARMED."� All in all, people are fairly realistic about such matters and usually jump to comply.
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Anyways, back to that 'romantic' stuff; yep, it's all that, and more.� The grace and serenity of a quiet marina cannot quite be put into words as the first�wisps of�a Category�5 hurricane�beckon on the horizon.� The�gentle rocking of the boat in the 174�MPH gale force winds lulls one into a warm feeling of contentment as the rising tidal surge�prepares to slam you into the concrete pilings.� That feeling of freedom and oneness with the universe when you're out on the mighty�ocean is only eclipsed by the sound of your hull tearing off from that reef you didn't see.

Romantic is the only word.
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Specs & Terms

A "motoryacht", by class, is 31' to 60'.� After that it becomes a�"yacht", "superyacht", "megayacht", "intergalacticyacht", etc.� There's nothing "rich" about a motoryacht.� Just picture a good-sized motorhome�minus the wheels.��I don't have any good pics of my boat, but here's* an average ad if you want to get�an idea of how a 40' motoryacht is laid out.� There are some major variations, like the main stateroom might be in the aft of the�boat if the engines are more centrally located, but the general gist is the same.

*The above ad is for a�Mainship Sedan Bridge (like I own) and the one place it differs from almost all other motoryachts is the 'center helm', an extremely cool feature, so don't be confused.� Most helms are at the front of the flybridge.
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When speaking of boats in general, they're usually gender neutral and referred to as "it".� When speaking of a specific boat, they're referred to�as "she."� You'll notice�in this article how I�slip back and forth.� It'll be "it" everywhere unless I'm referring to my own ship.� And, as you see in the picture above, she's gorgeous.
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A "boat" is anything that floats on water and carries people.� A "vessel" is a boat larger than a rowboat.� A "ship" means it's oceangoing.

Whether a ship is oceangoing is due�as much to design as size.� In general, an oceangoing vessel is designed not to go under if it's swamped with a large wave.� If a huge wave hit this thing, it'd shed all the water within seconds�and�continue putting along its merry way.� A sailboat of almost any size is oceangoing, simply because a mega-gust of sideways wind�might knock it ass over tea kettle�at any time.

Conversely, there's a real popular fishing boat around (about 17') but they're completely open and would go down like a lead weight if hit by a big wave.� So they scoot out and stay within the reefs (about 5 miles out) where things are safe, and only go 'outside' when the seas are calm.
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My Own Sob Story

I bought the boat to use as a charter boat, like for scuba trips.� (Go grab any scuba magazine's "Top Ten Diving Spots�in the Known Universe"�and the Florida Keys will most likely be #1 or 2)� I'll be kicking that into gear pretty soon, although I'm obviously dreading it.� I hate the thought of hard labor, and having to turn the steering wheel back and forth, back and forth, as I haul�yet another�boatload of excited, giggling, bikini-clad babes out to the reefs�is almost too much to bear.� "Only the toughest survive!" is the way I�look at�it.� I suppose I'll have many sad tales to tell here as I recall the brutal attacks by the hot bikini-clad babes as they try to hug and kiss me goodbye after their exciting hormone-palpitating trip.

Courage, I tell myself.
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Boat Size

When it comes to actually living aboard a boat (and this is somewhat analogous to motorhomes), the big decision is size.� If you actually want to live aboard it, like for years, and at least semi-comfortably, then it has to be a full-blown 40-footer.� The next general size down, 31', is referred to as a 'weekender'.� Low ceiling, half-height fridge, small coffee table, very little storage, tiny head and shower, minimal galley�� just perfect for taking the family�or friends�over to the Bahamas or out fishing for the weekend.

My 40-footer has a 6'4" ceiling, a full-height fridge, two-burner range, built-in microwave, standard kitchen sink, standard breakfast table, storage cabinets and nooks all over the place, two small closets for hangered clothes and a large shower you could fit a boat captain and six hot bikini-clad babes in.� And we may have to if my outside shower�mysteriously breaks!

"But captain, do you have to shower with us?� We were going to take off our tiny bikinis to wash them!"

"Sorry, girls.� Coast Guard regulations."

"Oh, well, okay!"

So that's the main choice that has to be made.� Do you want a fun, faster boat but you'll always feel like you're 'camping', or a slower, bulkier�boat�but you've actually got room to live in?
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When it comes to�motor versus sail, liveaboard-wise, the sailboats are always cramped because there's no such thing as a 'large' single-owner sailboat, in the sense that the wind will only push so much.� Once sailboats get to the 'big' category, they need full crews and lots of�canvas.
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Changing Perspectives

Suddenly owning an oceangoing vessel does, indeed, change at least one perspective.

Otherwise, it doesn't change a thing.� Oh, sure, when you walk down the pier and step onto land your first thought�is, "Oh, no � I'm among them again," but that's only natural.� Just be�cordial to the strange beings you meet and get�off that "land" stuff as soon as possible.� Man came from the sea, right?� Therefore, living on land is unnatural.� It's as simple as that.

And on a silly-but-related note, there's this.
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One�interesting thing about living aboard a boat is that it really tunes you into the weather.� Tide levels are a big�deal if you're putting around the shallows (like here), moon phases play a part, weather radar maps take on a new and personal meaning, and wind direction plays a key factor when it comes to how rough the seas will be.

And, since you don't have those nice roof eaves to keep the�rain off the side windows, and�much of your fresh air�comes in through hatches (which, due to that darn gravity stuff, are particularly susceptible to rain), you have to stay on your toes when a rainstorm arrives.� I opened my forward hatch this�morning when I got up, slammed it shut when we got hit by a rainburst an hour ago, and now it's back open.� Lord help you if you leave a hatch open when you go into town and a sudden squall�hits the place.� Prepare for a soggy return.� So, yes, you definitely get tuned into the weather.
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And here's�an interesting difference when it comes to living on land versus water.� Motion-wise, as you sit there, you're not moving in any direction.

As I sit here, I'm simultaneously moving in four directions:

• There's the�rocking of the boat when wind gusts hit it, and I minimize that by sitting as near to the centerline as I can.
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• There is constant motion out my side windows as my boat and the boats next to it slowly move forward and back in their slips.
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• There is constant motion out the back as the boat slowly moves side to side in the slip.
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• And�then there's up and down.� Where I am now, with a body of water behind me, it doesn't make any difference, but�at the last marina I backed the boat�in, and at high tide I'd have this gorgeous view of the marina,�but at low tide all I'd see was the wall of the pier.� It took some getting used to.� It would be like you glancing out the window at the house across the street, then glancing out the window a few hours later and seeing a brick wall in front of the window.
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Maintenance Costs

There are two expressions that fit the�boating world�perfectly, albeit with a caveat:

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A boat is a hole in the water into which you�shovel money.
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B.O.A.T. = Break Out Another Thousand!
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Simply put, water is a corrosive, and saltwater ten times more so.� Put something in it and things are going to corrode.� With saltwater, just being around it is enough.� So, yes, in the grander scheme of things, boats cost more than their landlocked counterparts.

On the other hand, much of the costs can be prevented by routine maintenance and taking preventative measures, like spraying electrical connections with water repellent.� And, for that matter, using the right wire connectors in the first place.� Use the ones from the hardware store and (in a saltwater environment) things start corroding almost immediately.� Use the special marine connectors that�use heat to close the ends with an epoxy�seal and they're good for years.

On a related note, if you saw any of the bloggers a few months ago lambasting Al Gore for his huge houseboat, I wrote an article here debunking their claims.
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Now, the caveat to the money you shovel into a liveaboard boat, compared to owning a house, is that you're not paying�big property taxes every year.� All you pay is a hundred bucks for the vehicle registration.� So, in all fairness, that has to be written into the equation.

Also, unlike a house, there's really only one thing that can go wrong on a boat that costs any serious amount of money; the engines on a motoryacht and the sails on a sailboat.� Compare that to all the money you can sink into a house.� Reroofing, repainting, new sewage line.��Violent wind storm knocks it off�the foundation.� Torrential downpour floats it into the next county.� Tornado wipes it from the face of the planet.� Earthquake swallows it whole.

On a motoryacht, the most important item is keeping the engine oil changed.

Your choice!
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Operational Costs

Yes,�motoryachts are�expensive to run.� Mine costs $75/hr at full bore, about�a third�that at cruising speed.� On the other hand,�if it costs you $500 in gas to tool over to the Bahamas and back, well, what would it�cost your family�to stay at a nice hotel for the weekend?� These aren't 'runabouts'.� They're generally�taken out�for a purpose, be it business or pleasure, where you're�expecting to spend a�few bucks.

The rental price of slips varies quite a bit, as you'd expect.� The�standard down here is $15/ft, so that's $650/mo for 40'.� Electricity and cable are hooked up at the dock.� My average electrical bill is around $55/mo in the winter�(tropics, remember) and $85 in the summer, with the sole difference being the AC.

I�use Verizon Wireless for my Internet so I can get�the radar weather sites while at sea.� I have a regular desktop computer in the salon and a laptop for the bridge.� I don't have cable TV because I never watch it,�plus I didn't want to get tied down to one location with a one-year contract.� It's a little expensive (about 4 grand), but DirecTV has a seagoing TV dish that supposedly works quite well, even bouncing around the bubbly.

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To keep things in perspective, the reason a motoryacht costs so much an hour to run is because it has big engines, and the reason it has big engines is so�you can actually get where�you want to go, when you want to go.� It'll be true that your operational costs will essentially be zero if you go�with a sailboat, but you only get to use a sailboat about half the time you want to.� If it's the perfect weekend and your friends show up and the cooler is full and somebody brought a whole mess of delicious deli sandwiches and you're all ready to go � and the wind's blowing against you, or there's no wind at all � that's it.

On a motoryacht,�the gang�would pile aboard and you'd head for the�deep blue briny and never give the wind a thought.� So, yeah, it costs some money, but at least you're doing what you want to do, when you want to do it.� If�your guests are some special out-of-town friends or family and you really want to show off your boat and treat them to a great day�bouncing around the ocean, the gas money will be forgotten and you can pat yourself on the back as you motor past the sailboat party as they sadly�load the cooler and deli sandwiches back in their cars and go home.
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The Lingo

Yes, you'll have to learn nautical lingo.� In two years, I've never heard anyone say "on the left side of my boat," if you follow me.� You also have to learn how to pronounce certain nautical terms correctly.��For example, "gunwale" (the small�walkway along the side of a boat) is pronounced "gunnel".� An anchor is pronounced "hook".� Windless days where you can go boating�and the sailboaters can't is pronounced "Ha-ha, too bad for you!" accompanied by�your departing wake.

Proper lingo is important!
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Chine Gurgle

You might read some horror stories about this in the forums so let me cover it.

Along the length of the hull�right at the waterline are channels or 'chines' cut into the hull which allow the boat to plane better at higher speeds.� When the boat is at rest, wakes from passing boats slap against the chines and makes a noise called chine gurgle.��It's kind of a watery whapping noise.��When I was�looking over boats, one guy in a forum said the chine gurgle on his boat was so loud�it woke him up every morning and he actually ended up selling the dang thing.� Pretty scary stuff!

So how did my first experience with the dreaded chine gurgle go?

I climbed into the sack on my first night, and just then a boat went down the channel I was docked on.

WHAP-Whap-whap-whap-whap-whap-whap-whap....

WHAP-Whap-whap-whap-whap-whap-whap-whap....

"Zzz-zzz-zzz-zzz!"

Never heard another chine gurgle.� I know they're there, and I can hear them if I focus on them after a boat goes by, but otherwise they immediately just became background noise; the natural noise a boat makes, and my conscious mind never gave them another thought.
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Boat Electrics

In case you're interested in how the electrics on a boat work, it's actually kind of interesting.� There are two parallel systems running throughout the ship.

The boat, itself (engines, lights, anchor winch, bilge pumps, etc) is like a car and is all run off a 12v system.� Each engine has its own heavy-duty marine starting battery and there's usually a monster storage battery (350 amp-hours) connected to the generator.� Like a car, when the engines are running the alternators charge the batteries.� When the boat is hooked into 120v dockside electricity, a battery charger keeps all the batteries up.

Then, using dockside juice,�there's a whole 120v 'household' circuit running throughout the boat, with�normal electrical�outlets everywhere, and all of the kitchen appliances hooked to it.� If you want to use one of the 120v appliances (AC, stove, microwave, etc) while at sea, that's what the generator is for.

The fridge is usually 12v/120v and just sips electricity (1.2A), so at sea it runs off the big storage battery.� I have a couple of battery backup systems�for my computer and if those run down, I have a small 12v-to-120v converter so the computer can sip off the big battery.
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Interior Environment

Because there aren't any double walls and insulation, newer fiberglas boats just cook in the noonday sun and turn into gigantic ice cubes in the winter.� On the�flip side, the interior area is relatively small so it doesn't take much to heat it up or cool it down.� A motoryacht usually has two AC units (forward stateroom and salon), and one's just fine once the place has cooled down.� In winter, a couple of small space heaters�will have the place warm in minutes.� (The AC units are usually 'reverse flow' and will act as heaters, but they're extremely inefficient, moneywise, so everybody uses space heaters.)� For those of you in the icebound North, I have�some general�tips�on staying warm here.
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Buying�A Boat

I'd start off in a boating forum like BoaterEd, BoatingABC or Iboats.� Tell the gang your parameters and take it from there.� What do you demand?� Full-height fridge?� Full-sized kitchen table?� Got a big family?� Bringing along a lot of�friends?� Planning on doing any deep sea fishing?
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Do you want easy access to the water?� The majority of motoryachts don't have any access at all, simply because the�retired folks who buy these things off the showroom floor are long past their scuba and snorkeling days.
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Is speed an issue?� Boats vary dramatically, much of it depending on weight and hull design.� Both my neighbor and I have 40-footers, but his weighs 30K, has a displacement hull�and goes 17 knots�whereas�this frisky thing�weighs 20K, has a planing hull and skips along at 26 knots.� On the other hand, being heavier, his boat is more stable at sea, so there's a give-and-take.

If you were planning on spending all day out fishing, you'd want�a trawler design like my neighbor's, as you won't get bounced around near as much.� In my case, I just want to skip out to the reefs and back, so a 'cruiser' style was more appropriate, with the lighter weight and planing hull�resulting in�faster speed.
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Have you weighed getting a larger, older boat versus a newer, smaller boat, like an 1985 40-footer versus a 1995 31-footer?� Again, on a motoryacht, the only thing that really costs any money are the engines, so if you bought an older (bigger) boat with rebuilt engines, the small stuff, while a constant drain on your wallet,�might be worth it for the extra room.

On the other hand, a newer (smaller) boat is going to need much less repair (in theory) and will generally be more modern, both in looks and accessories, so that makes�a strong argument.

To pick an example, the newer one might have a built-in microwave, and what you have to remember is that counterspace is extremely limited so you can't just�flop a microwave down on the counter of�an older boat like you�would in a regular kitchen, nor can you just start drilling into the outside�kitchen wall since a�half-inch later you'll actually�be�outside.� The�empty wall space for�a built-in�microwave has to be designed in from the beginning.� You might have an interior kitchen wall to work with, but then you're sticking the body of the microwave into the shower or a bunk bed.

On the subject, though, if�there's just one or two of you and you plan on keeping�the boat�for years, and the bunk beds ends up as a shelves (as on mine), there's no real reason why you couldn't�punch through the wall and install a small microwave or conventional oven.
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And then there's gas versus diesel.� I just flat-out hate diesel fumes so I never gave it a thought, but diesel does have some advantages.� You don't have to run the engines occasionally to keep things clean (carburetor), they get better gas mileage and they generally last longer between overhauls.

Gas engines are great if you already know something about auto mechanics because they look like they just fell out of a 1968�Chevy truck.� Almost zero smog crap makes them a breeze to work on, and, except for a few small details, like one turns one direction and the other turns the other direction, and they're placed backward in the compartment with the flywheel facing forward... but apart from those minor details, they're just like working on granddad's truck � assuming granddad's truck has 700 horsepower.
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What about the marina?� If there are�only one or two marinas in the area you want to live in and they have size limits, that's a serious issue.� I called every marina in the�Key�Largo area�and�my boat�was too long for one, too wide for another, too deep�for a third, the fourth�demanded a year's lease, the fifth was way too expensive, the sixth-

You get the idea.� Marina-wise, once you hit the 40' range, the rules change.� So that aspect of it has to be mapped out beforehand.

Once you get a list of potential manufacturers and models, it's time to hit the two biggest online sites,�Boats and BoatTrader.� Use the 'Advanced search' and go for it.

Conversely, you could start off with the�above�sites, but barging into a forum asking if anyone knows anything about one specific boat, model and year�probably isn't going to yield many results.� So do both at once.� Ask for brand and model suggestions�in the forums, but have fun browsing the web sites.� Don't�tease yourself; use the search function to stay within your�price range.
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Next up is a first-hand look and maybe a�test ride.� Pick out a couple of likely-looking prospects and give the owner or broker a call or wing�him an email.� He'll probably be leery that you're just some lunk looking for a free boat ride so give�him a quick roundup of your current research efforts�so he'll know you're serious.��You still might not get a test ride out of it until you show an even bigger interest, but you'll certainly be able to look it over.
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When you�finally decide on a specific boat, the next step is to hire a marine surveyor and have the boat inspected.� You have to do this to acquire insurance, anyway, so it's not money wasted.��And it'll�give you some leverage to haggle over the price with.� If the marine surveyor doesn't do engines specifically, also hire an engine surveyor.� It'll cost about a grand between them for the day.

Part of the marine survey is having the hull inspected, so someone (usually the surveyor or broker) will need to make arrangements with a local yard to have the boat hauled.� It'll cost another two or three hundred clams, but you want this done.� If it needs a paint job (and they usually do), you can figure that in�when haggling over the final price.� Get an estimate for a paint job while you're there.
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After you shake hands and close the deal, there are a few things you'll need to do.� You'll need insurance, not only to protect�your investment�but the marina might demand it, and if this is your first big boat you should hire a captain to take you and your new honey to her new home.� The broker�should have a few people on tap.� That's what I did to get this big girl 200 miles�down the coast�and I learned a ton of stuff along the way.� I considered it money well spent.

Regarding insurance, ask around.� Quotes vary widely, as does coverage.� In general, this isn't like a house or car where you have a minimum deductible and they reimburse you for the rest of the repair costs.� The standard package�usually just covers sinking (including from hurricanes), and that's all you�really want.� Unlike the exciting world of automobiles, actually hitting another boat is pretty�rare.
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The One Month Wait Plan

I was originally just going to summarize this, but I've decided to write out the whole story because it's instructive in a number of ways.� Assuming you're not in any major rush, you should plan on doing something similar.� Wait'll you see the ($$) results.� I got an amazing deal on this thing and I'll give lucky timing half the credit and I'll take the other half for the idea and implementation.
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One�day at lunch I told my buddy that I was going to try what I called "The One Month Wait Plan."� This is where I emailed brokers absurdly low offers, then emailed them back in a week, then again (and they're dutifully bound to pass along all offers to the owner), and hopefully snag someone who really didn't give a damn about the money and just wanted to sell the dang thing for whatever reason.� I figured it would take about a month for�the owner�to talk himself into it.
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At 9 o'clock�the next�morning, I sent out the first email.

An�hour later, the phone rang.� It was the broker.

"We accept!," he said.

"No, no, no!," I hollered back.� "It's the One MONTH Wait Plan, you bozo, not the One HOUR Wait Plan!"

I didn't really say that, but it was a pretty�cool moment.� I never even got the chance to send out the second email!� My whole plan � ruined!
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Okay, want some prices?� Watch this:

• The boat�initially�sold for $330K.
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• The owner originally listed it for $124K.
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• When I saw it�a year�later, it was down to $90K.
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• Carrying out my diabolical plan I offered $70K.��Much to my disbelief, he accepted.

Someone had replaced the generator (which I never use)�with an undersized one so I had the surveyor make a big deal out of it and claim it needed to be replaced ($8K), then there were some other things that � if you hired someone else to do it (besides me) and if you paid them top marine dollar ($99/hr) � would come out to another $5K.� So, between that and $8K for a new generator, we found $13K worth of things that � ostensibly � needed to be fixed first.

• So I offered him $60K and he took it.

Perspective?

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  Of the twelve�exact same�models for sale in Florida at the time, the median price was $125K.� So I got this for less than half of the average price � or less than quarter-price.
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  The three least expensive 31-footers of this model�were going for $69K.� So I got a 40-footer for almost ten grand less than the cheapest 31-footer.
  
  

The One Month Wait Plan worked!� The fact that it only took an hour is somewhat beside the point.� I sent out a nice, pleasant email, made a preposterous offer,�and snagged somebody bordering on desperation.� Could have happened in the first hour, could have happened in the last.

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Here's a rough sketch of my email to the broker:

"Hi�� Sorry, I can't afford your $90K price, I'm going to buy one of the 31-footers for $70K, but I just wanted to say how much I like your�boat.� Figured I might as well write�since you never can tell.� All I know�is, if it were me,�I'd sure�want my money working for me, rather than�rotting�away in some marina slip somewhere.� Well, have a nice day!"

That was the general gist;�a "just thought I'd�drop by" kind of feel to it, and I actually used that�"rotting away" line.� Remember, even if you're writing the broker, he'll probably forward it to the owner, so you want to plant a justification in�his mind why it'd be a 'smart move' to dump it now, as long as someone's interested, so they can start letting their money 'work for them'.
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And, if nobody bites,�a week or two�later a quick follow-up.� Again, keep it innocent and upbeat.��"Hi�- I was just looking at the ad again and noticed the (mention some cool accessory).� Very nice!� By the way, if any of your broker friends are listing a 31' (make & model), please let me know."

By the odds, for every five or six owners, there's got to be one who doesn't give a damn about the money (within reason) and just wants to unload the heap.

In my case, the guy had bought a newer, smaller boat and was dying to get�the private dock behind�his house�back.� Nothing more to it than that.� But it wasn't in him to simply pull the plug (as it were) and radically drop the price, but when a radically low offer drifted in (as it were), he jumped at it.

Plus � and this is an important point � I made it clear after the survey that I wanted the�items fixed, even if we had to renegotiate the price, and he didn't want to have anything to do with hiring a bunch of workmen and meeting them at the dock and all that, so when I offered to take care of the $13K list myself if he'd lop off another $10K, he jumped at that, too.
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Bottom line is, most of the online boats have probably been for sale for a while, and the owner (unless he's filthy rich) is probably somewhat desperate to sell.� But people need something of a justification to drop the price so much, hence your helpfully providing them with a few�reasons ("money working for you", "rotting away in some marina slip somewhere") to give them something to work with.

And, of course, if he doesn't bite at your absurdly low price, he might meet you halfway, which would�still�be more than if you just tried to haggle him down from his asking price.� So, as long as you've got some time, it won't hurt anything to give the One Month Wait Plan a try and send out some absurdly low offers, just to see what happens.
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Summation

All in all, I've really enjoyed�living on a boat,�just for the unique experience it is.� I enjoy all the motion (never been seasick in my life) and running around closing hatches when a thunderstorm lashes through town is fun in its own frantic way.� If the world blows up, you merely slip the dock lines and take your 90 gallons of�fresh water, pantry full of food supplies and gas-sipping generator out a mile off the coast, drop the hook and wait for the shooting to stop.
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And I would be remiss if I didn't mention that being around such great people has been part of the fun.� Everyone�in a marina�is alive and upbeat, simply because nobody ends up on a boat unless they have some gumption to begin with.� And they're a responsible lot, because if you're not responsible with a boat, you might wake up in two inches of water some morning.� And responsibility tends to translate to honesty.� This is the only place in my life where I haven't locked the door when leaving, and probably the last.� Try doing that in a trailer park.
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And, of course,�the best part of owning a boat is actually being able to�use cool nautical terms... and mean them!

"Anchors aweigh, me hearties!� Avast, ye landlubbers!� Arrgh!"

Don't forget�the eye patch!

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