What Does It Really Cost to Cruise on a Sailboat?

One of the first questions people ask about cruising is pretty simple:

How much does it actually cost?

Unfortunately, the answer is also pretty simple.

It depends.

A lot.

I have seen people cruise on what sounds like a surprisingly small monthly budget, while others spend enough in marinas, repairs and waterfront restaurants to make a mortgage look reasonable.

Neither one is necessarily doing it wrong.

They are just cruising very differently.

That is probably the first thing I keep in mind whenever somebody tells me exactly what it costs to live and cruise on a sailboat.

Maybe that is what it costs them.

That does not mean it is what it will cost me.

The Wind Is Free. Everything Else Apparently Isn’t.

Sailing has one enormous financial advantage.

The wind does not send me an invoice.

No gallons per mile.

No fuel bill every time I put the sails up.

That sounds fantastic.

Then the boat starts introducing me to everything else.

Insurance.

Dockage.

Bottom paint.

Engine maintenance.

Rigging.

Sails.

Batteries.

Pumps.

Electronics.

Dinghy.

Outboard.

And apparently any normal object becomes significantly more expensive once somebody puts the word marine in front of it.

Regular stainless-steel bolt?

Fine.

Marine stainless-steel bolt?

Now we are financing hardware.

The wind may be free.

Owning the thing that catches it is not.

Anchoring and Marina Life Are Two Different Budgets

This may be one of the biggest differences between a relatively inexpensive cruising lifestyle and a very expensive one.

Anchoring can be incredibly cheap.

Find a safe and legal anchorage.

Drop the hook.

Set it properly.

And the nightly accommodation bill is:

Zero.

Hard to beat.

But then reality starts creeping in.

Laundry is piling up.

The water tanks need filling.

I want a long shower.

The batteries could use some help.

I need groceries.

Something on the boat needs a part.

And suddenly the marina that looked expensive yesterday starts looking pretty convenient.

There is nothing wrong with that.

I just know that somebody anchoring most nights is going to have a very different monthly budget from somebody spending most nights tied to a dock.

Same boat.

Same coastline.

Very different credit-card statement.

Food Is Cheap Until I Step Ashore

Provisioning can be pretty reasonable.

Rice.

Pasta.

Fresh food.

Canned food.

Whatever fits the way I eat and the storage available onboard.

Then I sail into a new harbor.

There is a waterfront restaurant.

Fresh seafood.

A cold drink.

A view of the anchorage.

And suddenly my carefully planned food budget has decided to take the evening off.

Personally, I do not think that is necessarily a problem.

Part of cruising is actually enjoying the places I worked so hard to reach.

I do not need to eat ashore every night.

But I also do not want to build a cruising budget so tight that every time I leave the dinghy dock I feel like I am making a bad financial decision.

There has to be some room for living.

Otherwise I am just operating a floating savings plan.

Maintenance Is Where the Boat Gets Creative

Some expenses are easy to predict.

Oil changes.

Filters.

Bottom cleaning.

Zincs.

Routine engine service.

Insurance.

Periodic haul-outs.

Those are the things I can put on a list.

Then there are the things the boat invents.

A pump stops working.

A seacock handle gets stuck or, worse, breaks.

A battery decides it has had enough.

A hose begins leaking.

The head develops an attitude.

The engine makes a noise I am almost positive it did not make yesterday.

And none of these problems necessarily qualifies as a disaster.

They just have a habit of arriving in groups.

That is the part I would want money set aside for.

Not because I expect the boat to constantly break.

But because I expect a boat to continue being a boat.

Something will eventually need attention.

The only mystery is what and when.

Doing the Work Myself Changes the Number

This is another huge variable.

Labor costs money.

A lot of it.

The more maintenance I can safely and competently do myself, the more control I have over some of the cruising budget.

Oil changes.

Filters.

Basic electrical troubleshooting.

Cleaning.

Minor plumbing.

Routine maintenance.

Every job I can reasonably handle myself is one less labor bill.

But there is also a point where confidence can become expensive.

I know enough to know there are things I would rather pay somebody qualified to do correctly than spend three days learning why I should have called them in the first place.

Saving money is good.

Creating a bigger problem while trying to save money is less impressive.

The Dinghy Has Its Own Budget

This one is easy to overlook when imagining life aboard.

The sailboat is the home.

The dinghy is the car.

If I anchor frequently, I am probably using that dinghy constantly.

Getting groceries.

Going ashore.

Laundry.

Restaurants.

Exploring.

Moving people and supplies.

So now I have another boat.

With another engine.

That needs fuel.

And maintenance.

And eventually something will happen to the propeller.

Because apparently propellers enjoy finding things underwater.

The dinghy may be small.

Its ability to create expenses is surprisingly full-sized.

Then There Are All the Little Things

Propane.

Laundry.

Ice.

Water.

Cell service.

Internet.

Transportation ashore.

Dock fees.

Mooring fees.

Fishing tackle.

Replacement lines.

Cleaning supplies.

Oil.

Filters.

Parts. Parts. Parts.

Customs and entry fees if I start crossing borders.

None of these things by itself sounds terrifying.

That is the problem.

They quietly gather.

It is the financial equivalent of barnacles.

One does not seem like much.

Enough of them eventually becomes noticeable.

Where I Cruise Matters

Cruising one part of the world can cost completely differently from cruising another.

Marina prices change.

Food prices change.

Fuel prices change.

Insurance changes.

Availability of parts changes.

Even how often I need a marina can change depending on the quality and availability of anchorages.

Someone cruising slowly through places with protected anchorages and reasonable provisioning may live on far less than someone moving frequently through expensive marina-heavy areas.

That is another reason one person’s monthly cruising budget does not tell me very much by itself.

I need to know how they are cruising and where they are doing it.

Moving Less Can Cost Less

There is also a temptation to think cruising means constantly moving.

New island.

New harbor.

New country.

Next destination.

Repeat.

But every time you move, you may use fuel.

Maybe pay a fee to exit one country and another to enter the next.

Buy more provisions.

Need another marina.

Spend money exploring somewhere new.

Sometimes staying put for a while is not only relaxing.

It is cheaper.

And honestly, if I find a beautiful anchorage with good holding, decent protection, somewhere nearby to get food, clear water for diving and a tucked-away reef with some good uncrowded surf, I am not sure why I need to race away just to prove I am cruising.

There is no mileage requirement.

I Would Keep Maintenance Money Separate

This is probably one thing I would personally want to do.

Normal living expenses are one budget.

Boat repairs are another.

Because if I call every repair an unexpected expense, eventually I have to admit that the only unexpected part was the timing.

Boats need maintenance.

That is not really a surprise.

So if I budget $3,000 a month to live and cruise, but every six months a major repair wipes out whatever I saved, then I probably did not actually have a $3,000 cruising budget.

I had a $3,000 lifestyle budget and forgot about the boat.

The boat does not usually forget about itself.

Cheap Cruising and Enjoyable Cruising Are Not Always the Same Thing

Could I make cruising extremely inexpensive?

Probably.

Anchor constantly.

Rarely eat ashore.

Do almost every repair myself.

Move slowly.

Spend as little as possible.

And for some people, that sounds perfect.

For me, I think there is a line.

I want to be responsible with money.

I also want to enjoy a meal at the marina once or twice a month.

If I sail somewhere I have dreamed about visiting for years, I want enough room in the budget to explore it.

Eat something.

See something.

Maybe stay at a marina for a week without feeling like I just ruined the next 3 months.

Otherwise I can become so focused on preserving the cruising lifestyle that I forget to actually enjoy cruising.

So What Does It Cost?

I still do not think there is one useful number.

There are too many variables.

Boat size.

Boat condition.

Where do you cruise.

How much do you anchor.

How often I use marinas.

How much maintenance I can do myself.

How often do you eat ashore. How many of you are there?

How quickly I move.

How much comfort do you expect.

What season of life are you in?

And how often the boat decides it would like something new.

Someone else’s budget can give me a reference point.

It cannot give me my number.

The better question for me is probably:

What does the kind of cruising I actually want to do cost?

That is a much more useful conversation.

I Want Enough Margin to Keep It Fun

I do not want to cruise scared of spending money.

And I definitely do not want to cruise pretending repairs will never happen.

I would rather build some margin into the plan.

Expect maintenance.

Expect a few surprises.

Expect that some months will be cheap.

Expect that others absolutely will not be.

And accept that occasionally I am going to spend money on something I did not even know existed when I bought the boat.

That seems to be part of the deal.

The wind is still free.

Thankfully.

I will take every discount I can get.

Go Deep.