One of the unique challenges of sailing and cruising with kids is keeping them occupied and engaged. Boredom is inevitable on any passage. But on Mug Up, the children outnumber the adults, and as their ages spread from eight to 14, their interests and attentions are varied and many.
Fourteen days at sea in a 46-foot sailboat with three kids: an adventure, indeed.
The small voice disturbed the gentle sounds of our 1972 Bowman 46, Mug Up, slicing through the waves, and interrupting my count of Portuguese man-o-wars as they floated by. There are a few phrases, when said on a sailboat on passage, that will strike terror in everyone’s heart. This wasn’t quite that level, but nonetheless, they were words I’d been dreading since we started preparations to get underway for our 14-day passage from Bermuda to the Azores: “I’m bored.”
Truly, a boring passage is a good passage—dolphin and whale sightings aside, but we are conscious of the fact that this life is not what they would have chosen on their own. It could be argued they wouldn’t choose broccoli with dinner, either. And so, I go out of my way to ensure that everyone is having a good time.
There are still chores, still school, still watches to stand with help. But keeping morale high ensures they (and the parents) are more likely to have fond memories of our time at sea. It makes us all more receptive to finding the magic in the little moments, such as finding a hidden chocolate bar when I thought we were out, having a Brown Noddy (new lifer bird!) rest on our kayak for part of the night, scratching our heads at the dolphins that never surfaced, only to discover they were giant tuna! Or turning on our favorite dance playlist for a cockpit dance party.
Now, let me be clear: safety of the crew and boat is always our utmost concern every time we weigh anchor. For every preparation we did to ensure the boat was ready—up-to-date safety equipment, life vests tested for holding air, preventer and jacklines run, and enough nutritious food to get us across the Atlantic Ocean—I also made preparations to ensure our three children would be not only safe, but hopefully… not bored.
One of the challenges of sailing and cruising with kids is keeping them occupied and engaged.
We hold by the standard that boredom is good for the kids—adults, too. It creates space for them to be creative and figure things out for themselves. Read or listen to books. Or just nap. Passage is the perfect opportunity to unplug from the noise of the world, even if we have Starlink on to check the weather and text with our weather router and friends.
Sometimes though, my “mom guilt” shines through all the logic I repeat to myself. When I’m tired after days of broken sleep due to standing watch, I’m not feeling particularly creative. I’m happy to stand watch with one earbud in and listen to a pre-downloaded audiobook or podcast. Occasionally, I journal. Otherwise, I’m very happy to check the sails and watch the water for dolphins. Turns out, I’m very boring on passage.
To combat the children’s inevitable boredom and avoid trying to think on my feet, I packed a small bag to keep in the cockpit with easy to do activities: coloring/drawing, Uno cards and Yahtzee dice, Shashibo cubes (like Rubik’s cubes but better in my kids’ opinions), and the marine mammal field guide. I kept a list of knots for everyone to practice tying and some trivia questions.
But when my eight-year-old, with her giant blue eyes, asked me to play Lego with her, I knew I was doomed. Not doomed in the way of “abandon ship!” but more in the way of, “Oh dear, we’re out of salsa,” and I knew I wasn’t going to get to finish my podcast.
What else is there to do but play Lego and make silly voices with your kids? Thankfully, not much! Make food, eat food. Check the sails, adjust. Double check for chafe. Clear the decks of unfortunate flying fish. Check the weather, adjust waypoints.
The kids made a cake to celebrate reaching the halfway point in mileage from St. George’s, Bermuda to Flores, Azores, which is the easternmost island where we would make landfall. We quizzed each other on movie and Disney tunes as they played at random over our cockpit speaker. We played a long game; if the kids made up a joke and a parent laughed, they could have a piece of candy. They told a lot of horrible jokes and a few gems!
It’s silly stuff, little stuff, but we live in a little space, and we’re a tiny boat on a great blue ocean. It’s okay for it to seem small and silly and unimportant. The big stuff was the adventure of a lifetime; being together, being safe.
My daughter didn’t brush her hair once. We saw one sperm whale, who followed behind us and brought to mind thoughts of “Moby Dick.” Dodged one massive low system by diverting south 60 miles, only to point back northeast once it passed. Saw one cargo ship per day. Lost count of Portuguese man-o-wars. Squealed in delight every time a pod of dolphins came to say hello—there were five overall. We flew the spinnaker during several light-wind days, and reefed as we approached Flores, trying to beat another low system into port. Our heavy boat trying to beat low systems seems to have become a sort of hallmark of ours.
Fourteen days at sea in a 46-foot sailboat with three kids was indeed an adventure I’d only had fleeting maybe thoughts of when we stood in Annapolis at the boat show year after year.
When we set foot on shore in Flores, my daughter declared she was never doing that again! I said “okay,” but that we couldn’t stay here. We hiked the steep hill to town to celebrate with ice cream. After a month of floating amongst the Azorean islands, she was indeed ready to push on. Another seven days didn’t seem so bad. After all, we had more shores in our sights we wanted to visit.
by Jillian Greenawalt
About the Author: Jillian Greenawalt’s husband Jeremy learned to sail while in college on the Chesapeake Bay and taught her to sail. In 2021, as a family of five, they cast off the lines to cruise on their 1972 Bowman 46 Mug Up down the East Coast and Chesapeake, to the Caribbean, the Mediterranean Sea, and now back to this side of the pond.
