Liveaboards love having a different view of the water

EVAN WILLIAMS / FLORIDA WEEKLY Bill Cox and friend Barbara Smith, at his home, a 64-foot Bluewater motor yacht at the City of Fort Myers Yacht Basin. Like people who work the nightshift, liveaboards see the world from an unusual vantage point. They fall asleep to gentle rocking and the soothing sound of waves lapping at their domicile, and their version of yardwork entails scrubbing oxidation off the hull instead of mowing the lawn.

When a hurricane threatens, they can flee in their house. If a neighbor is a nuisance, they can untie and move to a different dock. And when they sail off into the sunset, there's no need to pack.

Living on a boat makes you a part of a tight-knit community, but also a free spirit.

"Maybe it's in your blood, if you have Christopher Columbus type-blood," said Bill Cox, whose home is a 64-foot Bluewater yacht at the City of Fort Myers Yacht Basin, or City Marina.

The marina is one of the few in Southwest Florida that welcomes the challenges of a live-aboard community. Like in a condominium complex, there are rules to keep the peace — when power tools can be used, where laundry can be hung, how to handle pets, etc. — and someone has to enforce them. At City Marina, that person is Dockmaster Leif Hans Lustig.

EVAN WILLIAMS/FLORIDA WEEKLY Jim Goulette, left, a resident at the City Marina since 1987, with friends Vange and Gene Kile. "It's a neighborhood environment with people interested in the same lifestyle," Lustig said. "We've got veterans living alongside retired CEOs who could buy the whole marina. And they all get along, mostly."

Gene Kile, who was the director of industrial design for Philips Electronics in North America, lives mostly on a yacht at City Marina with his wife Vange. After retiring 20 years ago, the couple exchanged their home in Tennessee for life on a boat. They travel often, and at will.

"It's hard to go back to land," Mrs. Kile said. "I like to see the water, the wind, the rain."

Mr. Kile added, "I think there is a sense of romance at the beginning. After a while, you figure out this is just a really nice way to live."

The suggestion that liveaboards don't contribute to the community is a sore spot for the Kiles, who patronize downtown restaurants and local stores. They noted their friend Jim Goulette, who has lived at the City Marina since 1987 and volunteers as a traffic director on Fort Myers Beach.

And liveaboards at City Marina pay a monthly $75 slip fee, $40 per month for parking, an annual $25 dockage fee and an annual rate for dockage of $9.50 per foot of boat, per month. All that goes into the City of Fort Myers' coffers.

Depending on the time of year, 40 to 90 boaters call City Marina "home." The rest of the dock slips, 246 in all, are mostly reserved for transients who tie up for just a few nights.

Meet the residents

David Boulanger, 44, was waiting for his laundry to dry at the on-site facility Saturday morning. He lives on D-dock, one of eight docks at City Marina.

"There are multi-millionaires and people with nothing," he said.

Shirtless and fit, red from the sun with windblown curly hair and prismatic blue eyes, Mr. Boulanger stood by the Caloosahatchee River talking about his life.

He sold a landscaping business in New Jersey about four years ago so he could move to Florida and live on a boat. Now he manages a golf course.

"I got tired of the rat race up there," he said. "It was too hustle and bustle."

Despite the fact that he has to work every day, Mr. Boulanger said living aboard gives him the sense that he could go anywhere, anytime. "It's all about freedom," he said.

Mr. Cox, whose Bluewater was appraised at $1.3 million, agreed. He has lived aboard for seven years, since a divorce left him free to do as he pleased. Of course, he said, there are certain dangers of which he's always mindful. "We're in the water; we could sink. We're sitting on a ton of fuel." But, he added, "It's only dangerous if you're not paying attention to things."

Sometimes people strolling by City Marina think the liveaboards are something to stare at. "When we get tourists, the cameras come out and they point at us like we're living at the zoo," Mr. Cox said.

His boat, The Voyager III, is "like a condo on the water." It has about 1,300 square feet with an upstairs deck, a Jacuzzi bathtub, washer and dryer, heat and A/C, two baths and two bedrooms. There's a mini-bar and a big-screen television with satellite service and Internet. It has an autopilot system, and the toilets flush into a holding tank that is pumped into the city sewer system.

The closet space is tight, though — the bane of all liveaboards.

Still, that's nothing compared to Tim "Brother Love" Flower's 27-foot sailboat on F-Dock, in the shadow of the Ambassador Hotel.

Most of the other residents knew Mr. Flower as he rode his bicycle down the dock Saturday morning offering a friendly hello or hug. "I live here for the love of life," he said. "This is a friendly, loving community. It's a beautiful environment, peaceful."

A thin and athletic 64, with a grey beard and big, empathetic eyes, Mr. Flower said he used to be a painter. "I'd go into houses where the powder room was bigger than my living quarters." He lives a pareddown lifestyle. He has no television, but takes advantage of the marina's free Wi-Fi service. His table and bed both fold down and tuck away. "Everything has to go right back into its own place," he said.

Mr. Flower finds it hard to sleep on land, without the gentle movement of the water that he's used to. Mr. Cox agreed. It is a crucial difference in the way they see the world.

Mr. Flower stood at the Ship Store late in the afternoon, watching the sky. "You know, the sun doesn't rise," he said. "We just view it as the earth turns.

"It's a subtle difference, but a big one."