you'll want to start at the bottom of this update to see what precipitated the below response.
Even at the Government Floats in most marinas, if I expect to have shore power (never used however), a secure tie up generally with ease of access to the local micro brewery, restuarants, shopping, etc., flushing latrines (heads for you swabbies), hot running water for showers (aaahhhhhhhhh:-)) that last as long as my quarters do, a basic chandlrey in the Harbour Master's office and other luxury items such as ice, soap for the washing machines and dryers, fresh water to refill the holding tanks, and the nearby convenience of fuel docks for diesel and possibly beer, .......then I expect to pay a reasonable sum for the rental of my now-private space in order to take full advantage of all the preceding described amenities.
However, should I prefer to wallow in the misery of my damp quarters, attempting to dry soggy clothing by hanging everything from the shroud and safety lines (assuming that the rain from the preceding three days has finally abated), luxuriate in the two gallon sun shower from the foredeck (which has seen none of its heat source for the past three days), brew my Top Romain and Couscous over my single burner sterno stove or attempt to ignite my kerosene stove without causing a major explosion or flames leaping up to inflame the headliner of the salon......., not to mention having to re-inflate the now-deflated dingey filled with at least 2" of cold water, clambor overboard to row some indeterminable distance against the always prevailing headwind and chop (previously described by the authors) seated on cushions of several life vests in an unsuccessful attempt to keep my bottom dry, find a secure place to leave the craft whilst walking the extra distance to said micro brewery, restuarants and liquor store, and especially, being able to CONTINUE TO USE my wonderful on-board hand pump toilet and self-contained holding tank (or composting device, whew!), then I pat myself on the back and congratulate my sailing companion on having saved another moorage fee. And then, late at night and well after dark, returning to my dinghy and (assuming it is still where I left it), re-rowing back to where I thought I had left my floating home (before discovering that the anchor had dragged and that it is now quite some distance from where I previously left it - occassionally impaled against someone else's floating mansion or the rocks of the now-too-near shore), against the always prevailing head wind and chop that has turned 180 degrees, and somehow managing to re-board without going for a swim first, and finally climbing into my damp bunk where I can drift off to fitful sleep eventually, by mentally counting up the money I've saved today before rising again to check that anchor that feels like it's dragged again.
After all, in the age of our middle sixties, why should we either want or expect to enjoy some of life's little comforts when we can go to sleep in our damp underwear knowing that when the final moment arrives, we CAN take it all with us??
Thanks, Brad. I knew I could count on you for perspective!
Reggie From: Capitalistic bastards!
>Do we have yet more proof that I must be a bit of a cheapskate in
>some ways? I find it difficult to digest that I should pay $75 or
>more per night to sleep inmy own bed. Anchors away!