Our First Day on the Water: A Roller Coaster of Emotions
The first day cruising our boat was an unforgettable mix of excitement, panic, and hard-learned lessons. Kyle and I had been living aboard at Marina Village Yacht Harbor in Alameda for a month—this is where we had purchased our boat, Sand Dollar. Our plan had been to stay there longer while we prepared for our journey, but the universe had other plans.
Just a week before our expected departure, we approached the marina staff to extend our stay. They assured us it was no problem and would cost the same as our current rate. However, a few days later, we were blindsided with news that staying longer would triple our rent. With our boat far from ready, this unexpected expense wasn’t an option. Suddenly, we had only a few days to finish all our preparations and leave the marina.
The stress was overwhelming. We spent those final days frantically checking and re-checking everything—our electrical system, the engine (thankfully in great shape thanks to Kyle), and the rest of the work we had in progress. It felt like we were running in circles, unsure of what to prioritize. But ready or not, our departure day arrived.
We reversed out of our dock and navigated the marina for the first time. It was nerve-wracking—tight spaces and other boats made the exit a challenge. I was running around making sure we didn’t hit anything, while Kyle, driving this difficult to handle boat for the first time, handled the pressure like a pro. After finally clearing the marina, we started to celebrate our small victory—until the engine died.
In an instant, the mood shifted to panic. With a strong current pulling us, we threw out the anchor and tried to figure out what had happened. After taking a moment to breathe, we realized the problem: our fuel gauges weren’t working properly. They showed full tanks, but we had actually run out of fuel. The previous owner had left the boat empty.
Thankfully, a friend from Marina Village came to our rescue. She rowed out with a can of fuel, just enough to get us moving. We motored to an abandoned dock in front of a restaurant in Oakland, where we tied up for the night. Exhausted, anxious, and too late to refuel, we tried to rest, but the neighborhood felt unsafe. Sleep didn’t come easily.
That night brought another challenge—Kyle’s worst fear became a reality when we woke up to find the boat aground in just two feet of water. We were stuck, but safe. We had no choice but to wait for the tide to come back in. It was a humbling moment, but also a powerful reminder that, no matter what, we’d find a way to get through it together.
The next day, after refueling, things started to fall into place. We finally moved the boat to Safe Harbor Yacht Club, also in Alameda. Unlike our first marina, where people were friendly but reserved, Safe Harbor felt like a breath of fresh air. Everyone was welcoming and eager to help us. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. There was hope.
Looking back, the experience taught us so much. The chaotic first day forced us to trust in ourselves and in each other. I distinctly remember a moment when I looked out at the horizon, surrounded by boats and cargo ships, and felt a shift in perspective. Here we were, in the middle of it all, living our dream despite all the challenges. I felt blessed and grateful in a way I hadn’t expected.
We also realized the importance of community. In the early days, we were so focused on the boat that we avoided socializing, thinking we didn’t have the time. But it was the people around us—the ones who shared their knowledge, encouragement, and stories—that truly made the difference. They understood what we were going through and wanted us to succeed.
Through it all, we learned that while sailing can be unpredictable, the lessons are invaluable. Mistakes happen, plans change, but there’s always a way forward. Most importantly, we discovered that nothing builds trust, resilience, and a sense of accomplishment quite like facing challenges together.
