Life on the Ball

The year 2025 on Catmandu was - in turns - a cruiser’s dream and a cruiser’s nightmare: three months cruising the Bahamas, a slow sojourn north along the Intracoastal Waterway, a few months in the Chesapeake, and a long hiatus in Hilton Head, waiting through winter for a brand-new engine. When we escaped the freezing temperatures of the Carolinas, we considered staying in Fort Lauderdale for a while but the wanderlust wouldn’t let up. We gathered some friends and sailed for the Keys.

With our friends Mike and Twila on Farr Away and Bruce and his daughter Deanna on Second Mates, we set out of Port Everglades on a near-perfect sailing day and turned off our engines. The three boats sailed in a line along the coast of South Florida and pulled into Biscayne Bay outside of No Name Harbor. We rafted up on Second Mates’ anchor and enjoyed drinks, dinner, and conversation as we watched the sun go down.

The next day, Catmandu and Farr Away continued on, staying at Rodriguez Key anchorage for one night and making it to Safe Harbor Marathon marina on the third afternoon. We finally relaxed. We visited the pool, dined at Lazy Days Restaurant, and enjoyed marina life with good friends. It was like a vacation: fun, breezy, and expensive.

So, we thought, why not move farther into Boot Key Harbor and grab a cheap mooring ball? We had done it before, briefly, in 2024, and I started to remember what it was like hanging from a ball in a harbor with 350 other cruising vessels. So now that we are here, I thought others might like to know what this life is like.

The Cost

A mooring ball in Boot Key Harbor, including tax, use of the dinghy dock, and a parking pass, costs $434.00 a month. It is roughly equivalent to two days at Safe Harbor Marathon Marina. Before you think of running down here to store your boat for the summer, there is a rule you should know: you must live on your boat.

The inclusives here are impressive. You get the use of a large office with tables and electric outlets, and several workshops for woodworking or sail repair. There is a 24-hour laundry room with eight washers and eight dryers, all working. Showers and bathrooms are accessible with a pass key. The mail service is included, too, and the deliveries are sorted by last name. There is a free lending library with hundreds of books organized by author’s name. Someone recently donated more than 100 DVD movies.

Out on the water, there is weekly pump-out service for every boat and yearly inspection of the moorings. There are no-wake rules for dinghy traffic and no problems with speeding motorboats or jetskis. Many people travel by kayak, and aside from barking dogs, the area is quiet. (As for the barky little dogs, some are exceedingly loud and annoying when the owners are absent, but no socially acceptable solutions to that problem come to mind. Phil occasionally refers to them as “bait dogs.”)

The Social Scene

Marathon is located about halfway down the 100-mile string of Florida Keys, about an hour’s drive from Key West. It’s an active city, with a community theater, hospital, movie cinema, modern library, an airport, city parks and ball fields. We’ve discovered great restaurants and tiki bars from one end of the island to the other. Since the marina is centrally located, all of these fun spots are within a short bike ride.

The marina and the mooring ball community offer an array of activities that are announced each morning on the morning net, a VHF radio broadcast managed by the boating community. Each day at 9am on Channel 80A, the host of the day covers weather, boat arrivals/departures, announcements, lost and found, buy-sell-trade, and jokes or trivia.

The activities in the harbor include a weekly Friday happy hour and pot-luck with a rotating theme (pasta, BBQ, Mexican, etc.), daily pickle ball and bocce ball, Mexican train dominoes, and twice-weekly jam sessions. Phil and I don’t play pickle ball, but we’ve been known to show up at the jam sessions with flute and guitar in hand. The musicians here are remarkably good.

Every full moon, the harbor denizens gather in their dinghies at one end of Sister’s Creek and ride the tide to the other end as the moon rises. Phil and I rode with them during the rising of the Flower Moon in May. We tied the dinghies together by their painters, creating a massive raft. We passed drinks and snacks back and forth and someone brought a guitar. It was magical.

Last week, there was a nautical scavenger hunt where four teams in dinghies had to search for clues using local landmarks, GPS coordinates, and compass headings. Clues were found hanging on pilings, in the mangroves, and even on the bridge abutments. It was very challenging, to say the least. There are some extremely smart people here.

Living Off the Grid

We are not plugged in to electricity or fresh water. Our microwave and TV do not work, and we have no air conditioning without running our portable generator. To do laundry, pick up mail, buy groceries, or get to our car, we have to get in our dinghy, Catnip, and fire up the outboard.

So what are our days like? Like this:

Phil goes outside every morning near dawn to turn on the propane so we can boil water. He adjusts the solar panels to get the morning light. The sun powers our lights, fans, and refrigeration, and charges our watches, phones, and computers.

We sit outside in the early morning and drink our French-press coffee in the cockpit.

Today, we heard a huff near the boat, sounding like an exasperated man. “What was that,” I asked. Then we saw the dolphins. A single, shiny gray fin rose from the water next to the boat. A second fin followed and we spotted a little one just behind. The family circled and played nearby while we watched. Dolphins come by nearly every day. Manatees and turtles are more shy, but they are here, too.

“It’s water day,” Phil noted. Every Thursday and Sunday, we spend about 90 minutes making fresh water with our Rainman water maker. It takes the salty harbor water and gives us about 60 gallons of fresh, nearly filling our three tanks. We will wait until afternoon to start the generator for water.

The pump-out boat comes by and we tip Lori, the operator, for pumping out our holding tank. After the morning Net, Phil goes to work as a patent attorney at his laptop and I read or write or take a shower onboard. In the afternoon, we will make water, then go to shore for a grocery run. We pick up our mail on the way.

We might join a happy hour, play in a jam session, or help a fellow boater by towing their disabled dinghy to the dock. We might go exploring the mangroves down Sister’s Creek to Sombrero Beach, or head to Dockside to hear music and sip happy hour drinks. We might go the other way to Burdines for the world’s best French fries.

In the evening, we will sit in the cockpit and watch the sky light up as the sun goes down over the harbor. As it sinks past the horizon, Phil will blow the conch horn. Echoes of other horns might sound in the distance. We cook dinner on the propane stove, and whoever doesn’t cook does dishes by hand, heating water on the stove.

We fire up one of the computers and watch our favorite sailing videos or late night comedies. Bedtime comes early, and we turn on the fans in the stern cabin and settle in, feeling the gentle sway of the waves and listening to the music of the ripples on the hull.

To misquote Mark Twain, “It’s lovely to live on a mooring ball.” We recommend it.