A Real Day on Anchor: What Cruising Life Is Really Like (Beyond the Instagram Sunsets)

Ah, slow mornings with coffee and a book, long beach days, sunset views while gently bobbing at anchor, and wrapping it all up with a beach fire. Just another day in paradise, right?

Old salty sailors say cruising is about sacrifice over comfort. They’ll tell you about surviving a summer in the Sea of Cortez with nothing but a spray bottle and a fan.

Instagram definitely tells both stories - the luxe sunsets and the down and dirty boatwork.

Both stories—the glam and the not so glam—have their place. The reality just happens to fall somewhere in between.

We’re here for more than just sunsets

Mornings Start Early—Whether We Like It or Not

One of us is a morning person. The other… not so much. But the boat doesn’t care.

Most mornings, we’re up with the sun—either by choice or because the hatch over our faces floods the cabin with light. If it’s not the sun, it’s an anchor alarm, slapping halyard, or (recently) birds nesting on our radar.

Somehow, Mark sleeps through this 99.9999% of the time. I crawl toward the coffee machine. Once the espresso is flowing (thank god for that machine), I might try to relax on the beanbags—but nope, the dog comes first.

The old boy just wants food and a quick lap around the deck. Once he’s taken care of, I finally get my iced coffee and figure out the rest of the day.

Balancing Fun and Boat Life

Yes—our lives are a ton of fun. We prioritize it, because that’s kind of the point. But we also live on a boat that constantly needs attention. And like most young cruisers, we still work to keep the dream alive.

Mornings usually start with coffee, then move into a mix of activity and chores. In El Salvador, we’ve got pickleball with the locals. Other days it’s workouts or sad attempts at surfing.

When we were further north, yoga followed by morning surf sessions until our bodies gave out was the norm.

But it’s not all play. Daily chores and system checks are non-negotiable. Mark handles the boat systems—monitoring water and power, making water, running the generator when needed.

I manage the household side. Laundry is never-ending. After the Great Cockroach Incident of 2024 (just one, thankfully), we avoid sending laundry out. Our tiny washer runs every other day.

Then there’s the fridge: what’s about to turn? What needs restocking? Add in vacuuming up the dog’s daily fur donation, and the “small stuff” adds up fast.

Maintenance Never Stops

Even with big refit projects completed on the hard, there’s always something. From oil changes and polishing stainless (why do we have so much?) to sail repairs, canvas stitching, and fixing that one drawer front that keeps falling off.

We live by the mantra: “One thing a day.” It helps us strike a balance between boat work and enjoying where we are.

Just a little boatwork.

Life Admin in Paradise

Boat life still requires “life admin.” We may not clock into a 9–5 anymore, but we do have contract work that helps fund the journey.

Once the active part of the morning is done, we each find a corner of the boat and settle in to work.

Even when the paid work’s done, there’s still more:

• Passport and license renewals

• Taxes and bills

• Food tracking and reprovisioning plans

• Visa and paperwork checks

• Route and weather planning

• Next-phase refit planning

We juggle all of that between chores, work, and play.

No SkipTheDishes at Sea

Since moving aboard, we’ve grown to love cooking. Lucky thing, because there’s no food delivery in remote anchorages.

The further we travel, the more self-reliant we’ve had to become—especially for comfort food. (Looking at you, crispy ginger beef.)

We even make our own bread and pickles now. Not out of passion, but necessity—because good versions are just hard to come by out here.

Always cooking, but with a view.

Always Watching the Weather

Even when we’ve been anchored in the same place for weeks, we’re always checking the sky.

Are we expecting rain? Close the hatches.

Wind? Let out more chain.

Lightning? Hope for the best.

Sometimes the weather forces us to stay onboard even when we’d rather be out exploring. It’s just part of the gig.

The Social (and Sometimes Solitary) Life

We love social anchorages. Game nights, beach fires, potlucks (especially the mystery can ones)—we’re here for it all.

But cruising friendships are fluid. This year, our buddy boats headed to Baja, the South Pacific, or back to the States while we turned south toward El Salvador.

So yes, we also have to be okay with being on our own.

Still, we rarely stay lonely for long. New boats arrive, new friends are made, and the cycle continues. Every now and then, we’ll find ourselves in a quiet anchorage, and honestly… it’s kind of nice. For a while.

Sunsets Don’t Mean Done

We make a point to watch the sunset every night. It’s our time to unwind.

But even then, there’s always a checklist:

• Set the anchor alarm - if we think the weather is going to be spicy

• Close hatches if rain’s coming

• Final anchor check

• Turn on the anchor light

• Power down the inverter

Then we crawl into bed and hope it’s not a rolly night.

It’s a Dream—But It’s Still Real Life

I wouldn’t trade this life for anything—but I won’t pretend it’s perfect.

Stuff breaks. It gets hot. Sometimes I’m seasick in my own home. But even then, most days are pretty darn good.

Cruising is a full-time job—with its own ups and downs. The difference? This job comes with epic sunsets, freedom, and the kind of peace you can’t buy.