We’re now seven years into full-time living and cruising. Before this boat, we had some part-time experience—a 30' day-sailing sloop in Maine and a 40' trawler in Puget Sound—but nothing close to what we’re doing now. For us, every new accomplishment was something to celebrate. The first time we went through the locks? High-fives all around. Crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca felt like a major team win. Spending two weeks in the Gulf Islands opened our eyes to the possibility of making this a full-time endeavor; before that, the 40' trawler was just our “weekend cabin.”
Of course, every terrible docking or poor decision also came with an “after-action” discussion. We actually met more than 30 years ago in flight school, so CRM—cockpit resource management—was already second nature. When we transitioned to running a larger vessel, it helped us settle into natural, comfortable roles while still striving to run the boat as mariners, not just as a couple. We aim for the highest standard possible.
For departures or arrivals, we communicate directly with each other. She runs the deck; I run the boat. When entering an unfamiliar anchorage or marina, we talk through our approach, currents, options, and “go-around” plans. In Southeast Alaska, you often don’t get a slip assignment until you’re at the breakwater, so decisions happen quickly. If people offer help, we usually decline unless the conditions truly warrant it. When we do accept help, Suz is clear and specific about what she needs from them and relays everything back to me. No jumping, no throwing lines—just coordinated crew work. And if we can’t dock safely, we back out and try again or move to the backup plan.
Routing and weather decisions are made the same way: together. We review the forecast, currents, tides, options, and contingencies as a team. And we have one firm rule—either crew member can veto the plan. If one of us isn’t comfortable with a crossing, timing, or route, we wait or choose another option. That mutual veto has kept us safe and aligned more times than I can count.
This approach works extremely well, but more than once Suz has had to deal with a macho or impatient boater on the dock barking orders at her—even though she can run the deck for almost any boat in that marina like a pro. I’ve heard her politely (but firmly) redirect a 6'2" guy who insisted on talking to me instead of listening to her instructions. Having a strong crew mindset makes all the difference in moments like that.
Our guiding rule has always been: when the boat and the crew are ready to go farther, we’ll go farther. This philosophy has sometimes held us back from things I was eager to try when Suz wasn’t ready yet, but it has also steadily built our confidence—in our seamanship, our teamwork, and our relationship.
When I think back to how nervous we were just getting our “new-to-us” trawler out of the slip in Lake Union for a weekend at anchor in Andrews Bay… and now we’re planning a run up to Prince William Sound… it’s been a series of small, progressive steps and decisions we’ve made together. Honestly, Suz drives many of these decisions.
One last piece of advice: our worst moments aboard have happened when we slip out of crew mode and into husband-and-wife mode—usually under stress. I’ve made decisions aimed at reducing her stress instead of making the best decision for the boat and the safety of the crew. Trying to push through to a marina hours away in iffy weather instead of anchoring in a protected cove one mile away… that kind of thing. Staying in crew mindset keeps us safer, calmer, and more in sync.