One door closes, and four others open…
Another year has gone by—these blog posts seem to have gone from monthly to annually, and each year, I wonder where the time has gone. Once again, I’ve felt less than inspired to write over the past twelve months, even though there was no point at which I needed hindsight to know how blessed I am. I guess it was a case of feeling that our lifestyle transformation (which has, after all, been the subject of this blog) had not only taken a back seat, but more accurately, had done a U-turn. Becoming land-lubbers again had never been part of the plan. Or at least, not a part that we saw in our immediate future.
But in the words of Allen Saunders, immortalised by the late, great John Lennon,
‘life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’
With the end of both my PhD scholarship and my consulting work in education in 2020, and with not a language gig to be had in semi-rural Northland NZ, I found myself chasing bugs in kiwifruit orchards for a living. It made a change—a much-needed change after years of sedentary work. I was getting paid to finally exercise all day long and lose weight! However, my daily total of 10,000+ steps was short-lived. Kiwigreen inspection season gave way to packing season, and I accepted a permanent (largely desk-bound) role as Quality and Compliance Manager, despite my distinct lack of knowledge relating to all things horticultural. It was, to put it mildly, a steep learning curve. But the people were great to work with, and the guaranteed income was welcome.
Commuting ashore from the boat became challenging on a daily basis, then impossible with the shortening days and the need to cover for absent night-shift staff on occasions. Tent life had already proven impossible and with winter fast approaching, would never be an option. We’d decided to start building a garage/sleepout while we waited for consent for the main project, but the structure wasn’t going to be up in a matter of weeks. So in March while Richard was in Auckland watching the America’s Cup racing and I was home working, I took the plunge and purchased a small caravan. In some ways, it felt like the ultimate shopping spree, but in other ways, it felt a bit like throwing in the towel. Many discussions were had about what it meant for our cruising lifestyle, but ultimately I needed to work, my work was ashore, and commuting wasn’t possible. We needed a place to stay. A caravan wasn’t ideal, but it was only ever meant to be short-term until the sleepout was ready.
The shorter-term the better, really. The caravan was comfortable and would have been great for tiki-touring New Zealand, but as a semi-permanent living arrangement, it was cramped. Richard embraced returning to building in his (supposed) retirement, and the garage/sleepout started to take shape. Unfortunately, the impacts of COVID were stretching far and wide, and building materials were hard to come by. Windows in particular took forever. So by July, with winter well and truly arrived, we were still in the caravan.
A window of a different type opened with the trans-Tasman bubble, and we gladly seized it to visit Melbourne, staying in Richard’s heated loft apartment and catching up with family and friends including my brand new, week-old grandson. With a 4-week visit planned, we didn’t rush to do many of those catch-ups in the first few days. Murphy’s Law struck, as it is so often wont to do. Three days after our arrival, Melbourne was once again in Level 4 lockdown, with the trans-Tasman bubble closed. It seemed we were stuck for at least 8 weeks.
It wasn’t the end of the world; the loft is far more comfortable than a caravan, and presumably, the lockdown would end before the bubble opened again, and we’d be able to visit family and friends then. It was the off-season; kiwifruit packing was finished and my remote working plans (re-writing the quality manual for the packhouse) would have to be extended by a month, but that was potentially doable. So we spent 2 weeks huddled in the loft, albeit with lovely walks available along the Maribyrnong River in Footscray for our permitted exercise. The NZ government then announced a 5-day window of ‘green flights’, which would mean no need to enter MIQ on re-entry, provided we had a negative COVID test within 72 hours of departure, isolated at home on return, and had another negative COVID test before circulating in the community. Much scrambling and camping on the Google pages eventually resulted in us securing 2 seats on the last available flight out during the ‘green’ window. So after one more all-too-brief family visit, we were homeward bound to Kerikeri. It was bitter-sweet to miss out on catching up with more friends while in Melbourne, but fun to be back in our new ‘hood’ with neighbours who are fast becoming good friends. One highlight of the year was definitely donning a pink and purple dinosaur onesie, to attend my first-ever pyjama party! Another was when we had torrential rains, creating not just a pond but a lake on our land—deep enough to launch the dinghy and get in some water time. Not the same as being on Persistent Shift, but water time nonetheless.
Not long after returning, the packhouse announced that there was a merger afoot with a larger, multinational corporation. We were assured there would be jobs for everyone under the new structure, so I waited to see what might be on offer. In December, it became apparent that I was one of only a few who were ‘difficult to place’ in a role of similar responsibilities given the new company’s existing staff. So in a déjà-vu of my departure from NAB five years earlier, I accepted redundancy. The timing was not ideal; we are (we hope) weeks away from obtaining consent for the build of the main house. The construction loan was approved based on my salaried income. So the future of the build is somewhat uncertain at this stage; without the loan, going ahead would mean selling the boat.
However, in other ways the timing is perfect. Summer is here in Aotearoa and we’re not in lockdown. So for the first time in a year, we’ve been able to lock the gate and go back to the boat. We’ve spent a glorious 12 days cruising the Bay of Islands again, delighted with how ‘at home’ we immediately felt being back on board. Having no compelling need to be on land, we’re more than content to find ourselves back in our happy place on the water.
Of course, lifestyle change doesn’t just happen—sailing off into the sunset sounds romantic but the reality is there are still bills to pay, boat maintenance to fund, and living costs to meet. So it’s back to the drawing board as far as establishing a remote income that will allow me to live the lifestyle we both dreamt of when we set sail from Melbourne in 2015.
But I”m not starting from scratch this time. I’d been slowly but steadily building a side income over the past few years providing freelance editing services (www.copybykath.com). With a handful of regular clients, this is not yet sufficient to live on, let alone service a construction loan. However, it is growing. And there are promising partnerships on the horizon for Reading’s a Breeze! – which will hopefully see that niche publishing company start to turn a profit in 2022. There is also the hope that 2022 will see international travel resume with vaccination rates on the rise worldwide. So with spare minutes on my hands for the first time in four years, I’ve taken the plunge and launched French for Canal Cruisers. Initially conceived in 2019 as an opportunity for lifestyle language learning in face-to-face sessions on the French canals, with a planned launch in 2020, this business plan became yet another victim of the COVID pandemic, relegated to the shelf of ‘if and when…’. Many canal boat owners are like us; actively planning for the possibility of returning to our boats in 2022. So it’s a great time to offer ways for people to brush up on their language skills and initial interest has certainly been promising.
And of course, there is my fiction series, Talents of Terra, which is lying dormant, waiting for me to finish Book 3 – Prime and then the rest of the series. I’ve found a developmental editor to help review the series as a whole, so that project is definitely another one on the horizon for 2022—sooner rather than later. There are other series and writing projects that have been fermenting in the wings over the past few years as well, including renewing the focus on this blog and potentially publishing it as a sailing-lifestyle change memoir.
So in many ways, nothing has changed. I’m still keeping myself ridiculously busy, still with far too many projects on the go for my own good, but at least now I’m back to balancing all that with working from home, on projects I’m passionate about, and sharing more of life with my rock and constant support, Richard. 2022 will bring what it will; we will adapt and chart new courses as needed, and together we will embrace the love which binds our life together. I will continue to learn—to be a better writer, a better teacher, a better speaker of te reo Māori. A better daughter, a better mother, a better friend, a better partner. The key is to never stop learning. As important as those three L’s are— living, loving, and learning—there is another ‘L’ that is equally as essential, perhaps more so. And that is to laugh. To never, ever fail to recognise the joy and fun in life; to laugh, and to share that laughter. It’s one of the many things that I’m eternally grateful to Richard for (apart from the boat and its maintenance, the house build, the landscaping, the cooking, and the myriad of other things he does); he helps me find those moments, every single day.
As we enter into this post-pandemic time of unchartered territory, I wish safe and happy cruising to all, through whatever waters make up the voyage which is your life. May the sun shine upon your face, may the wind be always at your back, may the sea gently follow you, and most importantly of all, may you always find a safe anchorage when you need it.