Sail Away

The DePew home makes for a close family.

Bob and Julie sleep on one end. Marley, 8, and Dylan, 6, get the other, squeezed tight into the stern like baby birds in a nest of blankets, Legos and action figures.

When Julie heads for bed, she must duck to get through the hallway, bending her tall, lanky frame as though through a tunnel. Marley at 4-foot-8 has to duck his head, too, he said proudly.

The laundry goes where there’s room: stuffed into corners, tucked under the bedroom sink or the computer. The bathtub fits only the boys, the bathroom only one person at a time.

That’s life in their marina home in Ventura Harbor, squeezed and hemmed into the family’s homemade homestead, a 45-foot sailboat named Natural Mystic.

Soon, that boat will be the only dry land they have.

In June, the DePews will leave their sheltered marina, with its friendly neighbors and visits from harbor seals and squawking ducks, en route to a life with no daily commute and a frontyard that stretches for mile upon mile. It’s a big adventure, a trip that could take years and span the globe.

Julie has given up her job as a seamstress at Patagonia; Bob will leave his job as a carpenter, and the family will head for Hawaii, with an eye toward Bali, Australia and possibly points beyond, in a take-it-as-it-comes new life.

“It’s kind of scary to push off the dock and not see another one for a while,” said Bob DePew, curly-haired, calm and possessing a Jerry Garcia air. But the call of the sea, the nearness of nature, draws them.

The DePews, who happily subscribe to a philosophy of simplification, have lived at the marina for five years, building the boat gradually around themselves and managing to fill their home with conveniences. After saving nearly $40,000, they feel the time is right for a longtime dream.

Until now, their farthest trips have been to the Channel Islands.

The DePews aren’t the only ones following the dream. They are surrounded by a community of potential cruisers, who could at any moment pull up anchor. They may be completely alone while at sea, but once they drop anchor their boys could have plenty of playmates.

Karl Treiberg of Ventura spent three months sailing off the coast of Mexico with his wife and two children, and discovered a world of sailors with little in common but their desire to have a life close to the sea.

“I met people who lived on $200 a month and people who lived on thousands,” he said. “We were having brunch on the beach once. We didn’t know who had made something, and when we asked, the woman said, ‘Oh, my chef made it.’ She had a 150-foot yacht and was hanging around on the beach with the rest of us. There are no class distinctions; you have something obviously in common.”

But, in a world in which weather rules daily life, it can get treacherous.

“It can get scary out there,” said Treiberg of his three-month trip. “Big waves, big winds, bad things can happen to people. You get these crazy thoughts when you haven’t slept and the weather’s wild.”

The DePews are aware of the risks, but have been readying themselves for months for the potential challenges.

Living on the ocean means the DePews are constantly aware of weather cues, watching the ocean for whitecaps as they make a trip to the grocery store, listening for the sounds of raindrops on the deck. During El Nino, raging winds knocked their boat on its side, sending a crash of family belongings across the boat.

Julie will share a rotating 24-hour watch with her husband and a family friend who’s coming along for the ride. The boat will be outfitted with an emergency radar system, and they hope to be in touch with other family members by e-mail and ham radio.

And while cruising can be stressful on a family--cruisers are very aware of stories in which one spouse continues and the other returns home--the enclosed spaces, the constant roll of the sea, the reliance on each other can bring families closer together.

“The limited space amplifies the family dynamic,” said Laura Crutchfield, a Ventura-based marriage and family therapist, who herself lives on a boat. “If they already yell, now they’ll just yell at sea. If they’re already loving and kind and patient, it will test their abilities to be more so.”

And after five years squeezed aboard, the DePews have little concern that the close quarters will get to them.

“There’s moodiness and Mondays,” said Julie. “Sometimes the boat gets blamed for bad moods, but we work it out.”

Dylan and Marley, who have grown up playing “Waterworld” and drawing boats where other children might draw houses, will be home-schooled. What schedule the DePews have will depend on their children’s homework due dates, as they find ports and mail drops.

The boys will learn to steer. TV could become rare. Dinner will be simple. Baths will be in tubs containing collected rainwater, and clothes will have to go a couple extra days, or more, before getting washed.

That’s fine with the family.

“Brushing our hair won’t be a big priority,” said Julie. “There are more important things.”