At 63, Selling My Home for a Boat Life Saves Thousands and Fulfilling the Dream

Seven years back, I was a thriving yoga and Pilates teacher running a highly profitable venture. Had anyone sought my self-assessment, I would've confidently labeled myself as "indestructible" and "competent"—a person ready to guide others without requiring assistance myself. Yet, unbeknownst to many, including perhaps even myself at times, I was teetering on the edge of burnout.

Initially, the signs were quite mild: persistent digestive problems, spells of lightheadedness, and an uneasy sensation whenever getting ready for class. One morning, as I lay in bed suffering from severe abdominal discomfort, I thought to myself, "It feels like everything’s coming undone." Not long before this, we had come back from vacation during which I fell seriously ill and ended up at the emergency room due to what was identified as a TIA (commonly known as a mini-stroke).

Throughout that year, I'd been experiencing poor health. The stress was overwhelming, and I chose to disregard my feelings entirely. Approaching 61, retirement seemed close, yet I had no plans to abandon my enterprise—teaching hadn’t ever felt like work; rather, it had been my cherished pursuit for more than two decades.

During the holiday season of 2018, I experienced a total collapse. Throughout my entire life, I had been striving relentlessly to satisfy everybody, manage every detail, and achieve flawlessness. Despite my intense desire for rest, I found myself unable to cease my constant activity. Ultimately, my physical health deteriorated so severely that it forced me to halt completely.

In February 2019, my mother passed away, and this loss, along with my breakdown, spurred us towards embracing the most profound transformation conceivable.

The idea of residing on a small houseboat It was originally my husband Rob’s idea. During the lockdown, we were renovating our home and frequently discussed how we desired more excitement for our retirement than just gardening or minor chores around the house. We craved adventure and wished to distance ourselves from traffic and chaos. The notion of living on a boat appealed to us as it promised an immersive experience with nature.

Initially, I was hesitant. Our previous experience with boats had been limited to a few nights aboard, so the thought seemed absurd—I envisioned spending my entire life in our house in Leicester instead. However, once we toured a boat-builder’s workshop and witnessed their craftsmanship, something inside me shifted, and I became certain about our decision. After that visit, we didn’t doubt ourselves anymore. We decided we would prefer to regret trying this adventure out than to wonder what might have happened if we hadn’t pursued it at all. Remaining stationary felt akin to taking a gradual path toward extinction.

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By September 2020, we had sold our house and caravan, and gave away everything else to reside on a small houseboat At 63, I embarked on an entirely new chapter of my life. This marked one of the most significant transformations possible during our later decades—moving from a spacious three-bedroom house after 18 years to a compact 60' x 6'10" floating abode.

Selling the house seemed thrilling, and unexpectedly, discarding ninety percent of our belongings turned out to be rather simple. Most items were donated to friends, relatives, or thrift stores—though pandemic restrictions complicated this process somewhat. We offloaded the automobiles, trailer, couches, beds; letting go of these proved straightforward enough. However, saying farewell to photographs and literature posed more challenges. For my trio of offspring and two oldest grandkids, I compiled photo collections, even as I acknowledged having an entire chamber filled with books, aware that such excess would not fit within our new confines. Consequently, we retained solely those essentials utilized daily aboard ship.

When my mum sold her house after over 50 years, it struck me how little our possessions really mean. Living is what’s important – actually using everything, not keeping things just in case.

To say nothing of the unforeseen difficulties we faced when transitioning to a non-traditional home. The administrative tasks were incredibly vexing—updating our addresses with financial institutions, the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency (DVLA), and the passport office without having a permanent residence resulted in numerous fruitless discussions. Ultimately, we discovered a mail forwarding service which allowed us to persistently complete the registration process for all necessary documentation.

But we loved our boat From the beginning, since we had designed it ourselves, we felt deeply committed to it. Initially, both of us were rather anxious about handling the boat, but we quickly adapted. The physical activity involved in operating the locks also helps keep us in shape.

We're categorized as continuous cruisers since we don't have a home marina and spend much of our time moving through the canal system throughout the year.

We have traveled widely – twice along the Llangollen Canal, end-to-end on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal, and also explored parts of the Macclesfield, Peak Forest, and Caldon Canals, as well as making two trips to Birmingham.

The most delightful times occur when we step out early in the morning after anchoring ourselves in remote locations, where all one can hear is the melody of bird calls. The United Kingdom has countless stunning spots that we would not have found had it not been for our boat.

One of the most wonderful aspects of living on the water is that nobody seems intent on outdoing their neighbors. When we transitioned into our newly acquired boat, we were apprehensive about potential judgments from others. However, every person we've encountered so far has been welcoming and at ease.

A narrow boat needs routine upkeep. As recently as last week, we raised the boat from the water to inspect the paint job (known as blacking) on the hull, which cost us £800 and must be done biennially. Additionally, the yearly boat license amounts to £1400, with an annual insurance fee of £500.

Overall, however, this lifestyle is much more budget-friendly. The bulk of our funds go towards sustenance, beverages, and fuel. Nowadays, we purchase fewer material items. From an economic standpoint, we feel quite safe—we could always sell our boat and van if we really needed to acquire another home, though ideally, that situation will not arise.

Occasionally, difficulties arise. Due to budget reductions in certain areas, the British canal system is experiencing decline, leading to neglect of crucial upkeep tasks. This situation causes locks to remain non-functional and sections of the canal network to be shut down for extended durations.

Fortunately, we can always find a place to dock, even if it requires us to go farther than initially intended.

When we grow tired of traveling, we dock at a marina for a few weeks and take a break! During last winter, we spent a month in Tenerife, ensuring we didn’t spend the entire season on our boat. Our vessel is just four years old and exceptionally well-insulated. It comes equipped with central heating and a wood-burning stove, making sure it stays cozy inside regardless of outside temperatures.

We've been residing aboard. Grace For nearly four years now, we've been committed to maintaining our somewhat unconventional lifestyle as long as our health permits. Starting each day with sunlight and bird sounds out in the rural areas truly feels like an ideal existence, offering us opportunities to explore various places—whether they're natural landscapes, bustling urban centers, quiet retreats, or lively social scenes.

Regarding my well-being, I am in a significantly improved state. My body is healthier, my emotions are more balanced, and I possess greater self-knowledge now than ever before. Having spent over six decades under the control of my inner critic, I have finally achieved serenity.