For the past three days, we have been living on board while being on the hard, adjusting to the reality of a stationary boat. First, we had to recover from the initial shock of discovering the extent of the damage to our keel, something that demands our full attention. And now, we find ourselves navigating the peculiar experience of life on a boat that isn’t floating.

Let me start by saying that we are still enjoying the beautiful weather in the south of Spain, so we are not complaining too much. But for boaties like us, living on the hard is just unnatural. The boat is not moving! That alone is a bizarre sensation after six months of continuous motion. Normally, we are always subtly aware of the boat’s movements, from the gentle sway to the shifts in response to the wind. Now, everything is completely still. While this does make for a solid night’s sleep, it is oddly unsettling during the day.

Another challenge is managing water usage. We do have water on board, but there’s no way to empty our tanks. We can wash dishes, but then we have to find a way to dispose of the water. We can use our toilet, but with the blackwater tank filling up fast, it’s reserved for emergencies and “kleine boodschap,” as we say in Dutch. So we have to use the showers and toilets of the boatyard, which luckily are pretty clean, just a couple of hurdles away. Water management is doable, but everything was definitely easier when we were in the water.

Then there’s the boatyard itself: a land of sand, earth, and mud. Every boat that comes out of the water is cleaned, meaning dirt is everywhere. After climbing 3,5 meters up a steep and shaky ladder, we find sand all over the deck, coarse, gritty sand that gets into everything. And since we are tackling boat projects, our living space is chaotic. One of our main jobs is checking the through-hull fittings, around 14 in total. They are all reachable, but hidden under the flooring, which means pulling up panels and making an even bigger mess. Tools, equipment, and parts are scattered everywhere. It’s messy, but manageable.

Amidst all this, our little Philou is thriving. She is loving the new adventure, completely unbothered by being on the hard. Her imagination transforms different areas of the boat into new spaces, turning each room into a different world. However, her playtime adds to the clutter, dolls, toys, and clothes are everywhere. Every day she creates a new boat within our boat, fully enjoying her world of make-believe.

And then there is, Mirjam. Not a fan of the mess, the dirt, or the chaos. Trying to cope, get some work done, and wait it out. Meanwhile, Edwin is fully in work mode, tackling everything with a deadline in mind. He is constantly busy, which is probably the best way to get through this. Mirjam, on the other hand, is limited in how much she can help, Philou needs attention, and she has a tennis elbow. So frustration is bubbling under the surface.

This is the less glamorous side of being on the hard. But there are upsides. We are incredibly grateful that we could haul out on such short notice, something we had been wanting to do for a while but always ran into issues with availability or crane size. The weather couldn’t be better, hovering around 20 degrees with plenty of sunshine. And Almerimar, the little village where we are staying, is a pleasant place to linger. It has everything we need, and Philou is enjoying the many playgrounds.

So here we are, enduring the challenges, appreciating the benefits, and counting down the days until we can be back in the water. The anticipation of setting sail again keeps us going, especially knowing that our clean hull might even give us some extra speed. Just a few more days…

And isn’t this what life is all about? Trying to balance, the good and the ugly, while hating the bad, we know good times are coming as well, and boy, we will enjoy and appreciate them even more!