Have you ever waited in a queue—you know, in a line, on a waiting list—just to look at an apartment? Welcome to Sweden. There is a queue system, both public and private, at times requiring payment to view apartments. The other option is to rent secondhand and move every 3 months. Housing, or lack thereof, in Sweden can be a challenge, while housing prices only increase. I moved onto a sailboat in southern Sweden due to a lack of housing in my city. I was in my 30s and tired of sharing spaces as well as not having my own “permanent” home. I found a sailboat for rent on the Oresund Straight between Sweden and Denmark. While unorthodox to some, it sounded amazing to me. I love being close to nature. I had for the last 3 Swedish winters been living in a tree house of sorts in Costa Rica, so I was no stranger to living close to the land. Why not live close to the water? I decided to rent the little sailboat.
It was October, and winter was around the corner. Fall and winter in southern Sweden can be blustery, gray, and wet. The sailboat was in a very exposed marina. This exaggerated the winds and cold, sideways rain. My top priority was living alone in my own space. Even if it meant enduring the weather on bike or foot through a small park or the edge of city roads to get home. The small sailboat was charming but not ready for a Swedish winter. I wore a lot of wool, hats, and socks with wool blankets, and I had a small electric heater. Within the first month at my marina, I remember sitting in the dim light as she swayed and shook from high winds. The rattle down the mast was jarring, and my body tensed. I was writing, and everything in me was resisting this movement and sound. Whoosah, as some say, this was my chosen home. I had to relax, so I closed my eyes and allowed my seated self to sway with her motion. I heard and felt the mast rattle every couple of minutes. All I could do was inhale with a long exhale. I can do this. The storm was angry outside, but inside my tiny oasis, it was warm and cozy, and most importantly, I was alone. It was all mine. I made it through winter; some weeks I saw my breath with each exhale, and other weeks I danced my way to the bow over an icy deck. It was all worth it to me at that time. It only took a month of living on her until the studio room stopped swaying when I taught yoga classes. Imagine sitting in front of a class of students as the room rocks left and right, left and right. Focus, Mercedes, focus.
When the flowers returned and the land started to warm, I bought a lovely, Swedish-built Scanmar 25; she was one of 50 hulls. Sailboats make lovely homes, and as a bonus, you can take your home wherever you go, kind of like a snail. She would be an ideal sailboat to learn to sail and maintain. While my sailboat was small, she was mighty and well laid out, with an open plan inside. She lacked bulkheads dividing the V-berth and saloon, which made the space feel larger. Her engine was in front of the mast, towards the bow, extending the V-berth, so all 5’ 2” of me could spread out bow to stern or port to starboard easily. I could also starfish. She was the perfect size for me.
My former sailboat's name is Kavat. She is powered by a Yanmar 8HP and equipped with an alcohol stove, a diesel heater, depth sound, and a chart plotter. Although the last three on the list were outdated, she has a solid hull with sails in good condition, a new dodger, a bimini, and new interior cushions. The former owners cared for her, and she met all my needs. The man who sold her to me had inherited the boat from his parents, who sailed her around the coasts of Sweden over a 15-year period. Since then, his mother has passed away, and his father has sailed Kavat with him. His mother, he explained, had not only named Kavat but always made sure Kavat was in tip-top shape.
Over the next couple of seasons, I learned to sail Kavat, maintain her engine, clean her fuel system, and upgrade her DC system while living aboard. In the beginning, I asked friends in my marina if they would go sailing with me. During that time, many mentored me in different aspects of sailing or boat maintenance. If you are unfamiliar with marina communities, they are tight, and people on the water like to share their passion with others. Since I was around a lot, I always offered to lend a helping hand to whoever was in need. Do you need someone to help you move your boat to your slip? I can help. Do you need someone to go up the mast? I can help. Do you need someone to crawl into your lazarette to unscrew a part? I can help. I still claim that my size is a superpower on sailboats. I became part of the marina community at Lagunen, and I am grateful for the friends I made. I am still a full member with a slip; it’s the only thing I really own—my 10 m x 3 m (30 ft x 9.5 ft) of water.
I had fallen in love with sailing and being on the water. I was terrified at times, yet it was exhilarating. The first time I sailed single-handed out of the harbor into the Oresund Strait, I was so nervous. To put this in perspective, I was never out of sight of land; I was in front of the main beach in Malmo, SE, and no farther than 10 nautical miles from land. I had a VHF radio, an anchor, and lights. I was very safe. It did not matter; I was nervous. I sailed, and sailed, and sailed until I was not scared anymore. It was a glorious day filled with blue skies, a warm sun, and the familiar brisk Swedish breeze.
I didn't know very much about sailing or boat maintenance when I bought Kavat. Step by step, through friends, mentors, YouTube, and perseverance, I learned how to sail and care for her. Sailboats consume my life in every aspect, from my lifestyle to where I live and my career. I love boats and all things boats. “Boats, boats, boats,” a friend once said to me at a social gathering in my cockpit, “that’s all you talk about." That was at the very beginning of my sailing adventures. I found not only my passion in life but also myself along the way.
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