The Endless Vacation or How to Live Very Well on Practically Nothing

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We started out with a two-person tent but, since we live in such a shelter year-round, soon determined that we needed something bigger, something with enough room for a "library" and "playroom"! We finally settled on a four-person, insect-proof model that weighs only five pounds and packs into a roll which measures just six inches in diameter and 12 inches long. It was manufactured by our friends, the Stephenson family (22 Hook Road, Gilford, New Hampshire 03249), and we recommend it highly. .

A stainless steel grill, a small stove (for those woodless and rainy climes), a set of nesting aluminum pots, a large frying pan, four 5-gallon water containers (salvaged from alleyways behind hospital laboratories), a plastic water bed for additional storage (remember, it's dry in the Bahamas!), and miscellaneous knives, forks, spoons, cups, plates, etc., make up our kitchen gear. This, plus a small typewriter, a camera, film, paper, books, charts of the islands and our copy of Kline's Guide, cost us about $500 altogether and is all kept stored in a big ice chest.

Our initial stock of dried soup, powdered juices, milk, sugar, flour, yeast, rice, oatmeal, grits, cooking oil, coffee, spices, Wagner's tea, rum and other foodstuffs ate up another S150 of our original grubstake and was stowed — their replacements still are — in two duffel bags. (And don't make the mistake of limiting yourself to some sort of self-imposed Spartan diet that you don't really enjoy if you do take up our type of nomadic life. You're out to have fun, remember, not to "rough it" or "prove" anything.)

And then there's our diving equipment: snorkels, masks, fins, spears, Hawaiian slings (which propel the spears like arrows) and wet suits. All of which cost us another $250.

We already had most of the clothes we wear (nothing fancy, since we live so casually), bedrolls and other miscellaneous items that we use from day to day. We probably spent only an additional $100 or so stocking up on such gear when we embarked upon our new life.

Everything considered — canoe, tent, cooking accoutrements, food, diving equipment, books, typewriter, clothes, etc. — we didn't tie up any more than about $2,000 in "fresh" money when we took up our cruising existence.

SOJOURNS, VEGETABLES AND BARTER

Although I've stressed the nomadic elements of our life, Barry and I don't really cruise all the time. As the mood strikes us, we like to settle down on one or another of the many tiny, remote cays (pronounced "keys") in our islands for three or four months at a stretch. We may, of course, use our canoe for short excursions almost every day during one of these periods, but we really aren't going anywhere important and we know that we'll be back to spend the night at our semi-permanent home.

The only fresh water we have during one of these sojourns is the supply we collect in little potholes (which we dig) from passing rain squalls. And, despite the fact that there's never much loose soil on our tiny Bahama atolls, I like to scrape up what I can and put it into a five-foot by three-foot by ten-inch-deep plastic box for a garden. I mix dead leaves and pine needles into the sandy dirt to raise its acidity and plant carrots, tomatoes, squash, green peppers and lettuce (none of which are ever worth the effort) and either Chinese or Jersey Wakefield cabbages (which, if watered daily and shaded from the mid-day sun, mature in two months, but never head). Someday I'm going to learn how the natives grow such nice pineapples, sweet potatoes, cassava, guava, sugar cane, sours (local oranges), peppers and other fruits and vegetables down here.

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