August 21, 2025

A boat is a good place to inventory one’s life or at least, one’s stuff. Each year before traveling to Maine to board Carrie Rose we are obligated to decide what to bring. And each year this differs depending on what remains on the boat and what we brought home. Some years we have separate “boat” clothes and “car” clothes and are careful not to mix them. 

Keeping the clothes on the boat in an unheated shed for eight months seemed a good option until we realized that leaving them nurtured a moldy old book smell. They demanded to be washed before we set sail: an annoying way to begin the cruise. So now at the end of the season we take all the clothes home. Sounds simple enough but this means we must decide which clothes to bring back. 

 

In May the questioning begins: “What clothes are you bringing this year?” Due to our, or at least my, increasing ineptness we have to reinvent-the-wheel each year. I take most of my clothes out of the closet, the drawers and wherever else they are hiding, and spread them on the bed in the spare bedroom. Too engrossed in my own process I’m not sure what Charlotte does. 

 

Many of these articles of clothing have served me well, and many need to be donated to a worthy cause. When my mother was compelled to throw out a particularly worn shirt I’d tell her, “Mom don’t, it has just broken in and it is so comfortable.” No matter that I threatened her, she usually waited until I left for work and then threw it out.

 

In some ways Maine makes the selection easier. The temperature rarely climbs into the seventies. I choose alpaca over cotton socks, flannel long sleeves over flimsy short sleeve cotton shirts, long legged multiple pocket pants over shorts, and easily dryable synthetics over more comfortable natural fibers. Down jackets get packed with various wool vests and of course, to keep my bald head warm I bring several skull caps. 

 

Still, even though it is Maine, it will be summer. We plan for the not-always- inevitable 80 degree days: shorts, light weight T-shirts and a bathing suit even though we know they will only take up space and unnecessarily add weight to the luggage. 

 

This year Maine was warm with almost no rain. The fog mainly stayed out to sea, and there were only a few days of cold north winds. I say it was warm even though we slept under two down blankets most of the time. I know I am speaking in riddles, so be it. This is precisely the reason it is difficult to pack. 

 

Carrie Rose does not help in this matter. There is a 10 degree variance in temperature from the salon to the pilothouse and down again into the forward sleeping cabin. The difference between these rooms is only 3 to 4 stairs. While I lounge on the pilothouse bench in a t-shirt with the doors open, Charlotte huddles under a blanket below in the salon. 

 

These thoughts are coursing through my mind as I look at the clothes splayed on the bed. This year I couldn’t concentrate, gave up and packed it all. My backpack was overstuffed and abnormally heavy. When I got to the boat it was a chore to fit the clothes into my two allotted drawers. I spent the summer emptying them each time I needed a pair of socks or a clean pair of underwear. 

 

I understand that loyal readers [if you made it this far, thanks!] are expecting tales of our latest harrowing adventure and that a diatribe about these mundane details may force you to search elsewhere to satisfy that need. I totally agree if you make that decision and I accept full responsibility . . .  after all my indecision deserves no less.

Lebanon, NH