top of page
Search

Why We Waited So Long to Install a Laundry Machine on Our Boat?

  • Writer: Anna Wanecka
    Anna Wanecka
  • Feb 16
  • 4 min read

When most people picture the Bahamas, they imagine endless stretches of turquoise water, stunning pink sands at sunset, and anchorages so beautiful they seem unreal.


What they don’t picture is hauling two overstuffed IKEA bags full of damp, salty laundry down a sun-baked dock.


But that’s part of cruising life too.


The Bahamas: Paradise with a Laundry Problem


Cruising in the Bahamas is nothing short of magical. The water is so clear it almost feels illegal. The anchorages are serene, quiet, and breathtakingly beautiful.


But laundry? Well, that’s a different story.


In many of the outer islands, there are no self-serve laundromats. If there is one, it may or may not be open. If it’s open, it may or may not have water—or power. Or both at the same time.


You quickly learn that “doing laundry” isn’t just a chore. It’s a full-scale expedition.


The Cost of Clean Clothes


What really catches you off guard is the cost.


Water is precious in the Bahamas. Electricity is often generated locally. So, when it comes time to do laundry, those utility costs get passed down to you.


Here’s what you might end up paying:


  • $5–$8 per wash

  • $5–$8 per dry

  • And sometimes, even more on the smaller islands.


Now, multiply that by beach towels (seriously, why are there so many towels?), salty swimsuits, sandy shorts, and whatever other mystery items you’ve gathered.


Laundry day can quickly turn into a $40–$60 outing for clothes that will get salty again in mere hours. And let’s face it—there’s something a little absurd about paying that much just to wash fabric that will be re-seasoned by sea spray within minutes.

And there is The Logistics Ballet


But it’s not just the cost. It’s the logistics.


Here’s what it takes to do laundry in the Bahamas:


  1. Load everything into the dinghy.

  2. Time the wind so you can land without chaos.

  3. Haul the heavy bags across scorching sand or uneven docks.

  4. Pray that the machines are available.

  5. Wait.

  6. Guard the dryer


And, of course, you’re still in paradise, so it’s hard to complain. You’ll be folding fitted sheets while staring at water that looks like it belongs in a screensaver.


Still, there’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from hauling all that laundry back to the boat and putting it all away.

The Salt Problem

Living on a boat means everything gets salty. Everything.

Your clothes don’t just get worn—they get baptized by sea spray, sunscreen, engine grease, spilled coffee, and mystery substances (because who knows).

Without a washer onboard, laundry quickly becomes a mental burden. You stretch outfits. You renegotiate what counts as “dirty.” And, you start making small moral compromises like this:

“That shirt is fine.”


It’s not fine!


The Day Everything Changed: A Washer Onboard


And then, it happened. We installed a small washing machine.


The relief was immediate.


It wasn’t just the convenience of washing clothes whenever we needed to. It was the mental space it freed up. A button pressed. Water filling the drum. And then the hum.


The hum of autonomy. It was glorious😊


How the Washer Changed Our Life


  1. A spill? No problem. An unexpected swim? Wash it. No more structuring our life around marina facilities and their (unpredictable) availability.

  2. Emotional Bandwidth

    It turns out low-level laundry stress takes up a surprising amount of brain space. Once it was gone, we felt lighter—not just cleaner, but mentally lighter.

  3. Fresh Sheets at Anchor

    And this one? Feels almost unfair. Sliding into freshly washed sheets under a sky full of stars? It feels like unlocking a secret level of boat life.


Why We Waited So Long?

We told ourselves:


  • “We don’t have space.”

  • “It uses too much water.”

  • “We’ve survived this long.”

  • “It’s not essential.”🙄



And, technically, it wasn’t.


But here’s the truth about boat life—and maybe life in general:


The hard parts become normal. You adapt so well that you stop questioning the friction. You wear the inconvenience like a badge of honor. You convince yourself that struggle is part of the aesthetic.


But it doesn’t have to be.


Sometimes the best upgrade isn’t new electronics or extra solar panels. Sometimes, it’s just clean underwear on demand.

The washing machine didn’t just clean our clothes.

It removed friction from our days.

In a small space, on the water, off-grid, and with weather windows to chase—reducing friction becomes everything. No more laundry math. No more planning routes around laundromats. No more debating whether clean sheets are worth $20.


In the Bahamas, where distance and logistics amplify everything, having a washer onboard isn’t just a luxury—it’s freedom.

It means:


  • Fresh towels whenever we want.

  • Washing salty clothes immediately instead of letting them marinate in the salt air.

  • Not structuring our week around “laundry island.”


Laundry in the Bahamas isn’t impossible—it’s just expensive, time-consuming, and quietly exhausting. But now, when we hear the gentle hum of the washing machine while the boat rocks at anchor, surrounded by nothing but turquoise water, we don’t just hear a machine.

We hear reclaimed time. We hear saved money. We hear one less logistical puzzle in a life already full of moving parts.


And honestly? That soft spin cycle might be one of the most luxurious sounds in the entire Caribbean😆😉

 
 
 

Comments


svbogumila . Powered and secured by Wix 

 

bottom of page