We spent 2020–2022 sailing around beautiful Lake Keowee in South Carolina in our lake sailboat . I (Chrystie) had no prior sailing experience, and it definitely doesn't come naturally to me. Although I had learned some things during our lake adventures, we thought it best that I get more formal training. So in 2021, I took several sailing courses (101, 103, and 104) through the American Sailing Association in Fernandina Beach, Florida.

The courses taught me the fundamentals and gave me a foundation to build upon. A highlight of the 104 course was spending New Year's Eve aboard the course boat in Fernandina Beach, watching the fireworks and the Shrimp Drop — their version of the Times Square ball drop.

Swimming was another skill I had never acquired growing up. In 2021, I also took swimming lessons. I still can't manage the breaststroke without drinking half the pool, but I'm much more comfortable in the water.

Fast forward to July 2022. We arrived in Brunswick, Georgia, from Grenada aboard our new-to-us Taswell 43, having just completed a two-week journey across the Caribbean and Atlantic. The trip was equally exhilarating and exhausting — and we were all very glad to see land.

The first six months of life aboard Remedy were a huge adjustment. We were not only getting acquainted with the boat and everything she needed, but also trying to feel our way forward. Could this even be a viable lifestyle for us? Ken rented office space in downtown Brunswick, within walking distance of the marina, and focused on building his business in Jacksonville, Florida. I was beginning to discern what was next for me now that I was out of full-time ministry. We were splitting our time between Brunswick and our hometown of Greenville, South Carolina.

Brunswick is hot — an oppressive, sticky, wet kind of hot. The mosquitoes and no-see-ums are relentless; it was common to see people constantly swatting at the little blood-suckers on the way to and from the marina showers and laundry facilities. Brunswick also has wicked thunderstorms and some of the prettiest sunsets we've ever seen. While it's known as a hurricane hole — offering mariners protection from storms — we weathered our first hurricane, Ian, right there at Brunswick Landing Marina.

One of the many brilliant sunsets we witnessed during our 18-month stay at Brunswick Landing Marina in Brunswick, Georgia.

It was during this time that we introduced our 12-year-old cavapoo, Simah, to the new boat. She had loved sailing on Lake Keowee, so we were hopeful the transition would be relatively easy. But one major adjustment was necessary: our long-term plans included multi-day passages without touching land, which meant we needed to train her to relieve herself on the boat. Getting her to use a grass mat took a lot of patience, but she eventually got it. Getting her to go while the boat was underway, however, was a whole different challenge. She was a good sport, but this was clearly not her idea of a comfortable retirement.

Ken was working full-time while I was busy launching the WholeHearted Project and teaching at church conferences and retreats. We spent our nights and weekends repairing and upfitting the boat. One of the first priorities was the air conditioning unit — because, as I mentioned, Brunswick is just two miles north of hell. Thankfully, the repair was straightforward, and another boater gave us an older unit they were replacing, which made life aboard much more bearable.

Next came chasing down leaks — a never-ending job on a floating home. First up: a leaking head (toilet). Not a fun job. Ever. We also had to rebed two leaking windows.

One of the early repairs—rebedding one of two leaking windows.

Replacing the leaking toilet in the forward head.

Over the following months, we tackled refrigeration issues, removed abandoned wiring, and upgraded our VHF radio and AIS system, which lets us monitor marine traffic around us. Most of the work involved critical systems, though we did have someone reupholster the settee — which went a long way toward making the boat feel like home.

It wasn't all work, though. We enjoyed exploring Brunswick and St. Simons Island, discovering the charm of both communities, trying new restaurants, and attending a small local church.

We were also quickly learning the rhythms of the boating community — people united by a shared bond and sense of adventure. Everyone is in the same proverbial boat, so they're usually quick to lend a hand, a tool, some knowledge, or a good story. The camaraderie is fantastic, and new friends become like family.

We stayed docked at Brunswick Landing from July through October. In November, we finally cast off the lines for our first solo adventure — a pre-dawn departure heading south to Jacksonville, Florida. We needed to haul the boat out of the water to complete some work and install a new stern railing (which had cracked on our passage from Grenada), dinghy davits, and a solar arch. The new arch would allow us to mount larger solar panels and gain greater energy independence.

We had a wonderful sail to Jacksonville under headsail alone. But life aboard always comes with surprises. Once we arrived, we anchored for three days in the St. Johns River, waiting for a weather system to pass. The overcast skies meant little solar power coming in, so we were extra mindful of our energy usage. When the weather finally cleared, we continued on to Sadler's Point to haul out and begin a long list of projects.

Life in a boatyard is… an experience. We were living aboard while the boat was hoisted ten feet in the air in the middle of a parking lot. We could no longer use the boat's bathroom, so every trip to the marina restrooms — about a block away — meant climbing down a ladder, walking down a back alley, and crossing a parking lot, even in the middle of the night. Being on the hard also meant hauling groceries, laundry, tools, and a dog up and down the ladder every time Simah needed to go outside. But it was an adventure, and we were enjoying every bit of it together.

Hauled out and on the hard in Jacksonville, Florida. This is how we lived for two months.

After a short Thanksgiving visit with family, we returned to finish the boat projects. Within twenty-four hours, though, we were both down for the count with a miserable combination of COVID and the flu. On top of that, Ken was putting in eight hours a day studying for the Florida licensing exam. We finally caved and got a hotel room for a few days to recover in comfort.

All in all, we spent two months on the hard. During that time, we had the bottom repainted, replaced two through-hulls, installed a full cockpit enclosure for weather protection underway, and completed the solar arch and dinghy davit installations.

We pulled out of Jacksonville on New Year's Eve and navigated thick fog the entire day, which finally lifted as we arrived in Fernandina Beach, right at sunset. Exactly one year after my sailing course there, where we'd watched the New Year's Eve celebration from the dock, we were now watching it from aboard our own floating home. It was a full-circle moment.

As we sat there on anchor, watching the shrimp drop, we said goodbye to 2022 and welcomed 2023 with a deep sense of relief and accomplishment, excited for the adventures still ahead.