Trading Mountains for Marina Life—And Loving (Almost) Every Minute

If you’d told us five years ago that we’d trade the rugged pines and firs of Idaho for palm trees and turquoise waters, we probably would’ve laughed—mostly because we didn’t know if palm trees could even grow outside postcards. Yet here we are: a family of five living aboard a motoryacht in a Gulf Coast marina, soaking up a lifestyle that’s equal parts paradise and “what just happened?”

The beaches here are straight out of a travel brochure—white, powdery sand that squeaks under your feet, and water so warm in summer you half expect someone to hand you a rubber ducky. It’s a far cry from the icy lakes of the Pacific Northwest, where a “refreshing swim” meant turning blue in under a minute.

Anna Maria Island Holmes Beach

The change in nature’s threats has been… interesting. In Idaho, we had wildfires—three that nearly pushed us to evacuate—and “snowmageddon” winters that nearly buried our car to the antenna. If it wasn’t our own fire, it was our neighbors’ in Washington, Oregon, and California, and the smoke would roll in like an uninvited houseguest. Here in Florida, Mother Nature still likes to keep things exciting, but at least hurricanes give you an RSVP. In just four years, we’ve been through four major tropical storms and three intense hurricanes—Ian, Helene, and Milton. It’s been a crash course in hurricane prep and “storm party” snacks. And we take our cues from the opening or closing of the Waffle House.

Driving here is its own adventure. Florida drivers are… enthusiastic if not intense and outright insane. Let’s just say we pay a generous “hostage fee” to our insurance company each month and count every safe arrival as a small miracle.

But when the weather’s calm, living on the boat is magical. The aft deck becomes our living room, where we sip cold drinks, trade stories with boat neighbors, and listen to music while the sunset turns the sky into cotton candy. Sure, there are tiny annoyances—no-see-

ums, mosquitoes—but they’re nothing compared to the view. And then there’s the wildlife: dolphins playing in the wake, manatees cruising by like gentle blimps, and rays gliding under the docks.

Of course, afternoons often bring surprise thunderstorms—flash monsoons that drench you to the skin in sixty seconds flat, then leave you shivering despite a heat index that could cook an egg. Thankfully, we have three A/C units… which also means regular eviction notices for the barnacle families squatting in our hoses.

Life aboard is never boring. Every day brings something new—sometimes breathtaking, sometimes chaotic, but always worth it. We traded snow boots for flip-flops or being barefoot, traded smoke-filled skies for salt air, and wouldn’t trade it for anything.