From House to Houseboat: Gaining Life of Comfort With No Lawn to Mow

Some of the curious questions are legitimate:

“Is it damp?” “Do you rock a lot?” “What about utilities and sewage?”

Some queries are silly, like “What do you do when it’s foggy?” Or, “Is there a basement?”

Comments usually reflect sheer amazement:

“Two stories! Two fireplaces! Washer and dryer? Even the piano! How big is this place?”

Living on the Water

We’ve heard them repeatedly in the four months since we shocked our friends and relatives by selling our traditional brick Tudor home of 14 years in the Laurelhurst district in Northeast Seattle and starting a new life in a floating home on Lake Union.

Contrary to what some old-timers recall, or students remember from university days in the 1950s when aged, sagging houseboats provided a cheap place to live, our floating home is elegant. Its contemporary design by Ibsen Nelsen, a prominent architect, is as comfortable and cozy as any builder’s best on dry land.

It has advantages of a condominium without neighbors on the other side of the wall, or above or below. There’s no lawn to mow, no leaves to rake, and best of all, none of those pesky hedges which gave Laurelhurst its name and which forever needed trimming. A few pots of geraniums and tomatoes are all the growing things we’ll want when summer returns.

The houseboat, as yet unnamed but identified as No. 13, is moored to a pier designed for 10 homes on each side, staggered so each has a lake-front view. Except for the slapping of waves against the concrete floats which support the homes, it’s quiet despite its central city location.

We’re only 1.5 miles from downtown and only four blocks from Interstate 5 as it cuts through Seattle. There’s covered, secured parking and a large storage room in an upland row-house development for the overflow tools, snow tires, skis and Christmas decorations.

Called Roanoke Reef because it’s at the foot of East Roanoke Street, “the dock” is ideal for empty nesters like us, and yuppies. But there also are families with very young and teen-aged children.

Become Close Pals

But here, as on dozens of other houseboat docks on Lake Union and around the corner in Portage Bay, there’s a certain smugness at being able to live so carefree in the heart of the city, and a little differently than our landlubber friends.

Deep inside most Seattleites’ hearts is a hidden desire to live on the water. Once they try it, nearly all become advocates. Dock neighbors usually become close pals, sharing drinks, parties and even home-improvement projects, just as their upland friends do over the back fence.

Peggy and Tom Stockley, old friends, got the fever several years ago and introduced us to the way of life. It’s been five years since they traded a suburban Bellevue home for a house on log floats tied to a dock about two blocks south of Roanoke Reef. Peggy says she still feels like she’s at a resort when she comes home to their place, built about 1905.

Seattle has about 470 floating homes, mostly moored in Lake Union. They range in price from $40,000 fixer-uppers to $350,000 contemporaries. Some are docked at leased moorages where boat owners pay rents of up to $400 a month to the dock owner who rents his over-the-water space from the state.

Considered Condominiums

Some are cooperative docks owned by the homeowners, with the land either owned or leased. A few newer moorages, like ours, are considered condominiums because we own the “lot” to the lake bed about 25 feet below our float--and pay no rent. We do pay $250 quarterly to cover our share of dock and parking upkeep and that also includes sewer, water and garbage fees.

Sewer hookups were mandated a few years ago, cleaning up the lake so houseboaters now can dive in from their living rooms when the weather warms up. A city ordinance, adopted in 1977 to preserve the colorful houseboat community, protects moorages from demolition.

Along with an overhaul of zoning around Lake Union, which still is more of a “working” lake than a residential area, the Seattle City Council is considering allowing a few additional moorages where they won’t block views or restrict public access to the lake.

The attractive life style is catching on elsewhere. In an arrangement like our Roanoke Reef, a whole new community of about 40 lots for floating homes also are being sold in Ladner, British Columbia, a suburb of Vancouver. On salt water, rather than a lake, the homes are moored to piling which keeps them under control during tidal fluctuations. Priced from $46,728 to $86,000 (U.S.) these are on lots leased from the government for 30 years.

Have ‘Resort’ Atmosphere

One advantage to houseboating that attracted us is the free boat moorage at the side door. Instead of traveling across town in our station wagon crammed with people, groceries, clothes and bedding, we can load up our 36-foot cabin cruiser for a weekend right off our living room deck.

But when we stay home, we, too, have our own “resort” atmosphere. Our home has nearly 1,900 square feet, two bedrooms and two baths upstairs. This includes a master suite with generous mirrored closets, a whirlpool tub and even a fireplace and built-in bookshelves.

Next to the laundry in a large hall closet is a ladder and skylight opening to a full roof deck overlooking the city. That’s a place we’re looking forward to using more as spring and summer roll around.

Closet for Firewood

Except for the powder room and one kitchen wall, the downstairs is open, with plenty of room for the antique oak treasures we couldn’t part with: dining table, two buffets, an upright piano, a pair of sofas and two chairs in front of another fireplace surrounded by more bookshelves.

There’s even a closet for firewood off the living room deck. Our upright freezer lives in a closet on the entry deck.

Clad in Northwest-style stained vertical cedar, the flat-topped house is a little boxy on the outside. It has no gutters, only roof drains. It was built on its concrete float, which is filled with Styrofoam. After we moved our furniture and books in, there was a slight list. We called George Johnston, the “flotation man,” who leveled it by adding more Styrofoam. Utility lines in flexible pipes connect to the dock.

The house sways a little when the police boat tears by, leaving a large wake, or during heavy winds. In most cases, the movement is noticeable only because the louvered blinds sway or doors creak. Contrary to what many seem to think, we are not rocked to sleep every night.

Despite being only 14 inches off the water, the home is dry and mildew-free. Heat is provided by an efficient heat-pump forced-air system. Floors on the main level are hardwood set on plywood, which rests on the concrete.

Cats Scared to Roam

Not everything has gone smoothly. Scotty and J.J., two young cats used to being outdoors in bushy Laurelhurst, are beginning to adjust after four months at sea. But there has been special anguish for them.

Each has taken unscheduled swims and now is scared to roam. Fascinated by the ducks and Canada geese which also are residents, the cats undoubtedly will get wet again before they learn that they can’t walk on the shimmering water.

Fortunately, the only problem with the 14-year-old dog is inconvenience--ours not his. We have to walk him to land more often than we’d like.

We’ve heard dozens of stories about what other houseboaters have lost overboard: Bicycles, tools, barbecues, flower pots, hot tub covers. Just about anything one might have on deck has gone down.

Shirts Hit Bottom

We got initiated early when 10 shirts went to the lake bottom in an outdoor clothes-drying caper with a tippy metal rack. We felt foolish trying to snag them using a fishing pole and recovered only half. Now drying is on lines with clothespins, unsightly perhaps, but reliable.

Our stately antique grandfather clock seems to be the only loser here at No. 13. It runs briefly only when gets shaken up. The floating life style is just too quivery for steady pendulum action.

There’s an occasional bonging of the hour, but most of the time now it’s just for looks, leaving two windup wall clocks to keep the time.

These are trivial concerns compared to the freedom and joy of living on the water in full comfort. As promised, it’s intoxicating and addictive. What’s more, it guarantees conversation wherever we go.