The Odyssey Begins
By Sue Graham
For Paul and Sue Graham, the transition from landlocked midwesterners to full-time liveaboards began on a whim, but soon grew into a passion that would change their lives.
By Sue Graham
For Paul and Sue Graham, the transition from landlocked midwesterners to full-time liveaboards began on a whim, but soon grew into a passion that would change their lives.
Sue and Paul Graham relaxing in the Bahamas
At one time, both Paul and I were very heavily involved in motorcycling. Both of us raced, and followed the circuit. We'd made plans to go to Milwaukee for the 90th anniversary of Harley-Davidson, but there were some problems with our reservations. Added to that, I was in a new position at work, which was very, very stressful. That's when Paul suggested we try something different. “Let's head down to Lake Cumberland and rent a houseboat.” he suggested.
It was just the two of us, with the houseboat on this beautiful lake. We fell in love with the water, and three weeks later bought a 21-foot Bayliner. Both Paul and I took the Power Squadron and the Coast Guard Courses: we joined the Power Squadron and made a lot of new friends. We were on the water a lot, but it didn't take long to realize that the boat wasn't big enough.
Next, we bought a Carver 250 Express, and did more and longer trips. Our first long cruise was on the Cumberland River through Tennessee. We were really proud of our “big boat,” but when we got to the marina at Green Turtle Bay, they put us in one of the dinghy slots. And in Rock Harbor the local boat dealer wanted a tour of our boat because he said he'd never seen a Carver that small. But small or not, we took that boat across Lake Ontario, up the St. Lawrence Seaway to Montreal and back down the Ottawa River to Ottawa.
Our three weeks on that Montreal-Ottawa trip sold us on extended cruising. The trip was phenomenal, and we didn’t want to come home. By that point, we were starting to look for a place to retire. We wanted to get away from Ohio's cold winters, but we never found “The Place.” And then it hit us: why not live on a boat. We went to a Trawlerfest event in Stuart, Florida. There we met really interesting people, people who lived on their boats. It seemed like something we could handle. In a classified ad in Soundings magazine, Paul found a man who chartered out his personal boat, a Grand Banks 36. We called to see if he would take us on as crew. The owner, who was a retired minister, said he normally never did such a thing, but he liked the sound of Paul's Voice, and agreed to come with us and help us ease into the operation of a larger boat.
The Grand Banks was a nice boat, but I soon realized that while it was fine for a few days or weeks of cruising, it wouldn't be roomy enough for us to live aboard full time. We'd have to be part-time liveaboards, and keep our house. If we were going to live aboard full time, we would need a boat that felt more like a real home, with more creature comforts and enough space for our favorite things.
It was just the two of us, with the houseboat on this beautiful lake. We fell in love with the water, and three weeks later bought a 21-foot Bayliner. Both Paul and I took the Power Squadron and the Coast Guard Courses: we joined the Power Squadron and made a lot of new friends. We were on the water a lot, but it didn't take long to realize that the boat wasn't big enough.
Next, we bought a Carver 250 Express, and did more and longer trips. Our first long cruise was on the Cumberland River through Tennessee. We were really proud of our “big boat,” but when we got to the marina at Green Turtle Bay, they put us in one of the dinghy slots. And in Rock Harbor the local boat dealer wanted a tour of our boat because he said he'd never seen a Carver that small. But small or not, we took that boat across Lake Ontario, up the St. Lawrence Seaway to Montreal and back down the Ottawa River to Ottawa.
Our three weeks on that Montreal-Ottawa trip sold us on extended cruising. The trip was phenomenal, and we didn’t want to come home. By that point, we were starting to look for a place to retire. We wanted to get away from Ohio's cold winters, but we never found “The Place.” And then it hit us: why not live on a boat. We went to a Trawlerfest event in Stuart, Florida. There we met really interesting people, people who lived on their boats. It seemed like something we could handle. In a classified ad in Soundings magazine, Paul found a man who chartered out his personal boat, a Grand Banks 36. We called to see if he would take us on as crew. The owner, who was a retired minister, said he normally never did such a thing, but he liked the sound of Paul's Voice, and agreed to come with us and help us ease into the operation of a larger boat.
The Grand Banks was a nice boat, but I soon realized that while it was fine for a few days or weeks of cruising, it wouldn't be roomy enough for us to live aboard full time. We'd have to be part-time liveaboards, and keep our house. If we were going to live aboard full time, we would need a boat that felt more like a real home, with more creature comforts and enough space for our favorite things.
So we kept on looking and went to more TrawlerFests. Then Paul read a story in PassageMaker magazine on a new boat called a Great Harbour, and we had a chance to get on hull number one of the Great Harbour GH 37. My first impression was that there was a lot of space. The fact that I could have the comforts of home was really attractive, so we started talking about it. The base price at the time was $250,000. We had been thinking about something closer to $100,000. But then we decided that if we sold the house, we could afford the 250. But we continued to look. We looked at the Krogen 42. We liked the Krogen, but there was no way we could afford a new one. We found a used one, a ’92, and they wanted $220,000 for it. I'd had a problem with mold on the Grand Banks; I’m allergic to mold and there was some on the Krogen as well. The Great Harbour was all fiberglass, with interior surfaces that were easy to clean and maintain. We knew if we got a brand new boat, we could start from the very beginning and make sure we fought any mold and mildew.
Motion was another big concern of ours. I've had pretty severe motion sickness most of my life. You can’t live your live on Dramamine, so we needed a boat that would be stable. The Krogen 42, as nice as it seemed, wasn't stabilized. And we'd heard that those boats tended to roll without stabilizers. But at the same time, we didn't want a boat that we couldn't take over to the Bahamas. We'd seen the Great Harbours advertised as great coastal cruising boats, but we'd also heard that these boats had been over to the Bahamas and beyond. It made sense when we finally met Ken Fickett, the president of Mirage Manufacturing, the company that builds the Great Harbors. “Coastal cruising means you can go from Maine to Key West, and through the Bahamas to the Caribbean Islands,” he told us. “Because that’s really coastal cruising, too, even if it means going from island to island. It means you’re probably going to stop every day or so and anchor or enter a marina, not spend days or weeks at sea.”
At this point we had our hearts set on the Great Harbour, and things really solidified after we had the opportunity to go out with Neil and Gail O’Donnell, owners of a GH37 named Sybarite. They took us out on the ocean, and it was somewhere between smooth and rough that day. I never had one moment of nausea. Paul and Neil really hit it off, and we ended up spending a week aboard their boat. Paul was impressed wit a lot of the technical aspects, but for me the most important thing was that it had to feel like home. When I cooked on Gail’s stove, with a full-size refrigerator right there, I knew I could make a boat like this my home.
The week spent with the O'Donnells gave us a pretty good idea of the features and equipment we'd want to include in order to make our own boat truly ready for liveaboard cruising. But then, when we sat down and started creating an order, we realized that the final price would come to $389,000. It was a lot more money than we'd planned to spend, but we were sold on the lifestyle, and on the GH37. We talked to our banker and he said, “I don’t know what you’re concerned about because you’ve got a very nice 401K.” He suggested that if we worked until the age of 59½, the interest on our 401K’s would make the boat payment. We hadn’t wanted any boat payments, as our house was paid for and when we retired, we didn’t want any bills. But we also didn't want to miss out on living the life we'd dreamed of. So in the end, we obtained a construction loan, which provided the funds needed to get the boat built. To bolster the nest egg, we ramped up our working hours. I was an X-ray tech, and was able to pick up as much work as I wanted. For the last six months before retirement, there were times when I worked two or three shifts a day. We sold the Carver, cut back on everything and concentrated on saving and selling or giving away a lot of our stuff. We'd always been junk collectors, and we had three bedrooms, a two car garage and two barns all crammed full of things. It was really liberating to get rid of most all of it and simplify our lives.
Motion was another big concern of ours. I've had pretty severe motion sickness most of my life. You can’t live your live on Dramamine, so we needed a boat that would be stable. The Krogen 42, as nice as it seemed, wasn't stabilized. And we'd heard that those boats tended to roll without stabilizers. But at the same time, we didn't want a boat that we couldn't take over to the Bahamas. We'd seen the Great Harbours advertised as great coastal cruising boats, but we'd also heard that these boats had been over to the Bahamas and beyond. It made sense when we finally met Ken Fickett, the president of Mirage Manufacturing, the company that builds the Great Harbors. “Coastal cruising means you can go from Maine to Key West, and through the Bahamas to the Caribbean Islands,” he told us. “Because that’s really coastal cruising, too, even if it means going from island to island. It means you’re probably going to stop every day or so and anchor or enter a marina, not spend days or weeks at sea.”
At this point we had our hearts set on the Great Harbour, and things really solidified after we had the opportunity to go out with Neil and Gail O’Donnell, owners of a GH37 named Sybarite. They took us out on the ocean, and it was somewhere between smooth and rough that day. I never had one moment of nausea. Paul and Neil really hit it off, and we ended up spending a week aboard their boat. Paul was impressed wit a lot of the technical aspects, but for me the most important thing was that it had to feel like home. When I cooked on Gail’s stove, with a full-size refrigerator right there, I knew I could make a boat like this my home.
The week spent with the O'Donnells gave us a pretty good idea of the features and equipment we'd want to include in order to make our own boat truly ready for liveaboard cruising. But then, when we sat down and started creating an order, we realized that the final price would come to $389,000. It was a lot more money than we'd planned to spend, but we were sold on the lifestyle, and on the GH37. We talked to our banker and he said, “I don’t know what you’re concerned about because you’ve got a very nice 401K.” He suggested that if we worked until the age of 59½, the interest on our 401K’s would make the boat payment. We hadn’t wanted any boat payments, as our house was paid for and when we retired, we didn’t want any bills. But we also didn't want to miss out on living the life we'd dreamed of. So in the end, we obtained a construction loan, which provided the funds needed to get the boat built. To bolster the nest egg, we ramped up our working hours. I was an X-ray tech, and was able to pick up as much work as I wanted. For the last six months before retirement, there were times when I worked two or three shifts a day. We sold the Carver, cut back on everything and concentrated on saving and selling or giving away a lot of our stuff. We'd always been junk collectors, and we had three bedrooms, a two car garage and two barns all crammed full of things. It was really liberating to get rid of most all of it and simplify our lives.
Our families were very supportive and excited for us. At the same time we were to take delivery and move aboard, my sister and her husband sold their home on the condition that they move out immediately. Their new home wouldn't be ready for several months, so we offered to have them move aboard with us. For the next three months, the four of us lived on the boat very comfortably as we cruised up to the Chesapeake. My sister and I shared the kitchen and the cooking. They slept upstairs in the pilot house and made that bed up every day. We also gave them the second stateroom to store things, and they had their own bathroom. They had their privacy, and we had ours. During the course of our trip, our daughter and Paul's mother joined us for three days. Even with six of us aboard things were just fine.
After that cruise, the two us settled in, brought the boat back to Florida, and made plans to go to the Bahamas. We didn't have specific cruising goals at that point, we just knew we wanted to go north in the summer and south for the winter. We crossed the Gulf Stream and made landfall at West End, Grand Bahama. From there, we moved to the Abacos, and made a marina at March Harbour our base, and made overnight and three-day runs to places like Guana Cay, Green Turtle, Treasure Cay, and Little Harbor. As our confidence built, we moved on south to Spanish Wells and Eluthera, then continued on to explore the Exumas. There were a lot of adventures along the way. We came ashore to tour historic ruins, had happy hour with Bahamian park rangers, and learned to snorkel. On Compass Cay, the owner came out to help us get the mooring ball, and there was a shark swimming around. He said, “We have our pet sharks and it's safe to swim with them.” We found the underwater cave where they filmed the movie Thunderball, and we joined a gathering of cruisers from around the world at Staniel Cay.
That first season's cruise through the Bahamas created some amazing memories, and whetted our appetite for the cruising life. We now pour over guide books and charts, imagining where we might go next. From the Bahamas, it's not that much farther to the Turks & Caicos, then who knows, maybe on to Puerto Rico and all the way down the Antilles islands to Venezuela. We'll probably do the Great Loop cruise some day, and there are other waterways in North America we want to see.
We’re very healthy right now, and we don’t have anything to stop us from seeking new adventures.
That first season's cruise through the Bahamas created some amazing memories, and whetted our appetite for the cruising life. We now pour over guide books and charts, imagining where we might go next. From the Bahamas, it's not that much farther to the Turks & Caicos, then who knows, maybe on to Puerto Rico and all the way down the Antilles islands to Venezuela. We'll probably do the Great Loop cruise some day, and there are other waterways in North America we want to see.
We’re very healthy right now, and we don’t have anything to stop us from seeking new adventures.
