Tough talk about tariffs doesn’t truly reveal their actual impact. How do tariffs affect you if you’re cruising, sailing, making money as a YouTube creator, or simply enjoying retirement like my wife and I on Eoti? Whether you’re American or European, it doesn’t matter much, as there will be global shifts. Though I’m writing from my perspective as an American, I believe the impact will be worldwide. So, how will this emerging trade war affect you?
There’s a quiet casualty in the trade war: the mid-tier yachting and boating community. Most headlines focus on big-ticket items like semiconductors, grain exports, and auto parts. But behind all that noise is a community that builds, buys, and lives on boats. These aren’t hedge fund yachts or Wall Street toys; they’re the homes, businesses, and dreams of people who made significant life trade-offs to pursue a life afloat. And they’re about to be hit hard.
Tariffs Don’t Just Raise Prices, They Shake the Whole System
One important point to remember is that the country imposing the tariff pays the tax. Therefore, American tariffs reduce consumer purchasing power by more than the amount of the tariff. The proposed tariffs of 30 to 70 percent on Chinese goods are not just a squeeze at checkout; they create ripples throughout the entire structure of how boats are built, sold, and maintained.
Examine a boatyard. The fiberglass may be American, but the epoxy could be European. The stainless-steel fittings are likely Chinese or Taiwanese. Sails are sourced from lofts in Asia. Electronics? Mostly Japanese or Korean. Even domestically produced engines often depend on imported parts.
When tariffs take effect, the price of everything from anchor chains to lithium batteries increases. Builders pass that cost onto buyers. Brokers find it challenging to close deals. Financing becomes stricter. Insurance premiums rise.
That’s not a theoretical shift; it’s a family putting off their retirement cruise, a captain delaying a business plan, and a boatyard letting go of staff.
The Hidden Math: Why Tariffs Hit Harder Than You Think
I’m a technologist (I even have a PhD!) and a systems engineer with specialized training in systems of systems approaches. A simple change to a system can dramatically impact its outputs. Conversely, a significant change can result in catastrophic consequences. People often perceive tariffs as merely a tax on foreign goods. It’s easy to think you can impose a 30 percent fee on a winch or watermaker and move on, right? But that’s not how it operates. Tariffs aren’t additive; they’re exponential. Here’s why.
Imagine a $10,000 radar system facing a 30 percent tariff. Suddenly, it costs $13,000 before it even reaches the shelf. The distributor marks it up, and then the retailer adds their markup, too. By the time it gets to a buyer, the total increase could be as much as 40 or 50 percent. Consequently, insurance rates rise to account for the higher replacement cost. Financing terms are altered, and maintenance expenses increase due to parts becoming scarcer and more costly.
Now zoom out.
Foreign suppliers retaliate with their own tariffs, complicating exports for U.S. based marine businesses. Sailmakers, rigging companies, and boatyards depend on foreign customers, with some even outsourcing specific phases of production. If these relationships become strained or severed, that work disappears, leading to the loss of American jobs.
Investors sense uncertainty and withdraw. Stock markets fluctuate. Retirement accounts lose value. Inflation or deflation affects the currency. When your 401(k) declines, your confidence in major decisions, such as buying a boat or starting a year-long journey, also diminishes. This encompasses addressing any existing issues.
Then there’s the stuff you can’t always see.
When tariffs reduce supply, products on shelves become not only more expensive, but the shelves also grow emptier. When demand drops, prices increase within specialty industries as the rule of scarcity takes effect. Availability declines, and backorders rise. Small builders and refit yards find themselves waiting for shipments that may never arrive. This leads to reduced cash flow, more layoffs, and more abandoned builds. Dreams in boatyards from Florida to the Pacific Northwest remain stalled.
Worse still, most American marine products rely on imported components. Even “Made in the USA” often indicates they are assembled in the USA. The supply chain includes deep wires, fasteners, pump housings, bearings, and even adhesives. Break one link, and the whole system stutters.
This isn’t just about luxury. Mid-tier boaters already operate on tight margins. When the cost of a lithium battery bank rises by 50 percent, it’s not just frustrating; it could ruin the trip or force someone to cut safety gear to stay within budget. As provisioning costs rise alongside hardware expenses, your basic cruising plan can fall apart.
And that’s before considering inflation, the strength of the dollar, and global fuel costs.
Tariffs don’t just adjust prices; they transform the entire landscape. What seems to be a patriotic gesture at first can initiate a series of events that erode the core of the market. This adversely affects those who build boats, sail them, and support the industry as a whole.
The Squeeze on Mid-Tier Cruisers
This isn’t about superyachts. Most cruisers fall within the range of $150,000 to $750,000 boats, many of which are older and some refitted by hand. They are built and maintained by a combination of DIYers and small service businesses. These individuals are not wealthy. They are teachers who sold their homes, veterans with pensions, and remote workers scraping by.
Consider my wife and me, who bought our boat for a third of what a median house costs in the USA. We have no debt, and our retirement savings are exactly the median salary in the USA. After 45 years of backbreaking work, our entire budget is thrown into disarray. This is not just a pain; it is existential. Our budget is fixed, and our whole concept of retirement revolves around cruising. Now, even things like healthcare are affected.
Cruisers are already facing high marina fees, uncertain access to healthcare abroad, and a marine industry that is driving out the middle class.
Consider the impact of currency issues. If the dollar weakens, your savings diminish more quickly. That $600 grocery run in the Bahamas might feel like $1,000. Spare parts ordered in euros or pounds suddenly turn into luxury items. Even YouTube creators like the Wynns, Sailing Nahoa, or Delos are tightening their budgets or postponing plans as inflation and boat costs rise.
Small Frictions Become Big Problems
Tariffs don’t stop at the border. When the U.S. raises barriers, the world doesn’t simply shrug. Instead, it adjusts quietly, deliberately, and often permanently.
It begins small. A customs officer in Greece who used to wave you through now requests extra documentation. A marina in Spain introduces a “non EU vessel” surcharge. A broker in the Caribbean ceases working with U.S. citizens due to the excessive compliance work. A French bank shuts down your account without explanation, leaving you with no one to call.
No press release. No official policy. Just silent tension. One hinge squeaks, then another, until the entire door begins to stick.
These frictions impact more than most Americans realize. The mid tier boating sector depends on open systems: countries that allow extended stays, enable local parts purchases, permit the opening of bank accounts, or facilitate hiring local technicians to repair your windlass without the hassle of paperwork. This freedom relies on goodwill and trust between governments, and tariffs undermine that trust.
Let’s be honest: sailing and cruising families comprise a small, nearly nonexistent segment of society. Politicians generally don’t care unless they are involved in the industry in some way. On one hand, people often perceive anyone on a boat as wealthy (which is patently untrue in most cases); on the other hand, many view cruisers as homeless individuals with a boat (also untrue in most cases). Nevertheless, the yachting and cruising community serves as a valuable canary in the coal mine regarding more significant global issues, as they are mobile.
And it’s not just hostile nations that push back; allied countries, the ones that typically align with U.S. policy, start to recalibrate too. Canada, the EU, even Australia. When economic cooperation gets strained, those governments face pressure at home to protect their own workers. It becomes politically easier to create obstacles for American travelers and businesses to navigate. That results in more delays, more denials, and more closed doors.
Insurance companies, always risk averse, see these signals and pull back. Some have already stopped writing international policies for U.S. flagged vessels. Others quietly drop American clients at renewal. The risk isn’t always geopolitical; it’s financial. If tariffs or foreign retaliation make it harder to import parts or settle claims, the math stops working.
Banking is also becoming more difficult. Due to IRS regulations like FATCA, Americans already face challenges when opening foreign accounts. Now, with rising trade tensions, many banks simply refuse. They do not want the additional work or risk. This situation forces travelers to navigate a cash based world or depend on costly currency conversions and limited banking services. Both options introduce vulnerabilities.
Even mail can become a problem. Tariffs often bring tighter enforcement. Items flagged at customs may be delayed, taxed, or seized. That spare part you desperately need? It could sit in a warehouse for weeks or be sent back. Or worse, it may be destroyed. This isn’t hypothetical; it’s already happening.
And here’s where it truly matters: the premise of the cruising lifestyle falters when movement becomes challenging.
This life relies on flow. You must cross borders smoothly, purchase parts in foreign ports, arrange repairs on short notice, and stay ahead of weather windows without bureaucratic delays. If that flow halts, everything becomes more expensive, riskier, and lonelier. It benefits the wealthy who can navigate around the rules. Everyone else gets trapped.
That’s what’s at stake. It’s not just higher costs; it’s a quiet erosion of access and a slow choke on freedom of movement.
The liveaboard who spent ten years building their boat can’t afford to sail it. The young couple who sold everything to cruise full-time finds themselves stuck in one region. The working captain loses jobs because insurance and licensing have become too complicated. The already fragile lifestyle starts to tilt toward extinction.
My wife is undergoing her second round of cancer treatment. We lost an entire sailing season twice because she was gradually losing her hair as the chemicals were infused for the second time during retirement. With MS and a loss of the ability to walk well, our adventures are already being adapted. There is no waiting it out for us. I won’t go to a doctor because I don’t want to find out I’ve got something that needs treatment and will slow us down again. Dang it. We worked hard for decades, and now we either go cruising or we don’t. We did what we were supposed to do according to all the plans made for us, and the destruction of the global system is somewhat daunting.
Tariffs are presented as leverage, but they come with costs not just economic, but also cultural, social, and personal. For mid tier boaters, these costs arise quickly, often unexpectedly, and frequently without a path to recovery.
A Threat to Small Business, Craft, and Community
The boating world, particularly its mid tier, isn’t driven by conglomerates. It’s sustained by small shops, part time technicians, independent yards, and family run operations that piece together a livelihood one cleat, weld, or sail at a time.
Consider the sailmaking industry. Precision Sails operates out of British Columbia, yet their sails are cut and stitched overseas. Doyle also collaborates with global partners. Even North American lofts, such as North Sails and Quantum, depend on foreign made materials: sailcloth from Japan, thread from Europe, hardware from Taiwan, and batten boxes from Australia. Tariffs increase costs at every stage. Small lofts, lacking sufficient margins, either pass on these costs or go under.
Also, consider the yards. The welder in Mississippi who fabricates davits relies on stainless steel from China or South Korea. The sailboat technician in Annapolis who installs watermakers? Much of that equipment is sourced from Europe. So are lithium batteries, windlasses, alternator regulators, and even some bottom paints. One added tariff can disrupt the pricing enough that a customer decides to walk away or the business must choose between quality and affordability.
The ripple spreads quickly. Family boatyards in Maine will struggle to source parts. Catamaran builders like Seawind in Vietnam and Outremer in France will see U.S. buyers backing out, uncertain about potential import taxes or delivery delays. Even refit projects are stalling. That solar arch you purchased online may not ship on time or could incur unexpected duties at customs.
The media economy surrounding boating is also fragile. YouTube channels like Sailing SV Delos, Sailing Doodles, andThe Wynns don’t just tell stories; they drive business for many suppliers and services. When tariffs limit access to affordable parts, projects slow down, content dwindles, audiences drift away, and ad revenue decreases.
This isn’t just about boats; it’s about the scaffolding that upholds a culture.
People don’t enter these jobs for the money; they pursue them because they love the work, the water, and helping others chase their dreams. That dream relies on movement, trade, and cooperation across borders. When tariffs complicate this, we don’t just lose business; we lose community.
And there’s no safety net. There is no federal program to assist a YouTuber whose income disappears because they can’t complete their refit. There is no support for a fiberglass worker in Florida whose supplier has just raised prices by 40%. There is no rescue for the family that invested their savings into starting a mobile marine business, only to realize they can’t obtain key parts for less than triple the previous cost.
When people say, “tariffs protect jobs,” they rarely mention these specific jobs. They don’t refer to the couple in Alabama who do mobile diesel repair, the American expat running a Mexican canvas shop that receives 80% of its orders from U.S. boaters, or the Thai builder who makes custom trampolines for catamarans.
These individuals operate within a delicate, interdependent web. Pull one thread too hard, such as with tariffs or shipping restrictions, and you won’t just see higher prices; you’ll witness people walking away. You’ll see boats half finished, businesses shuttered, apprenticeships that never materialize, and skills that quietly vanish.
This is the outcome when trade becomes political and policymakers stop listening to the people who truly create.
The Politics Behind Tariffs
Tariffs are presented as a means to protect jobs and increase government revenue. However, that’s rarely how they function. Historically, they’ve been more about politics, power, and control. Often, they appease one group while harming another, usually without explicitly stating so.
The U.S. has a long history with tariffs. In the 1800s, they constituted the majority of the federal government’s revenue. However, they also created significant divisions. Northern industries advocated for high tariffs to shield themselves from European competition, while Southern farmers, who depended on imports and exports, favored low tariffs. This issue was not merely a side note; it contributed to the outbreak of the Civil War. The Tariff of Abominations in 1828, for instance, devastated the Southern economy and ignited discussions of secession.
After the Civil War, tariffs remained in place, primarily serving two purposes: rewarding favored industries and punishing foreign rivals. In the 1930s, the notorious Smoot-Hawley Tariff raised duties on more than 20,000 goods. Intended to protect American jobs during the Great Depression, it backfired. Other countries retaliated, global trade collapsed, and the depression deepened.
Since then, most economists, regardless of their political affiliation, have agreed that tariffs typically lead to a greater loss of jobs than they preserve. They increase prices for consumers, harm exporters, and hinder economic growth. Yet, politicians continue to employ them. Why? Because they are prominent, easily understood, and readily manipulated for political gain.
You can’t build a factory overnight. You can’t make a company hire more Americans simply by passing a law. However, you can impose a tariff on Chinese steel and assert that you’re “bringing jobs home,” even if the steelworkers remain unemployed and the price of a boat increases.
Tariffs are difficult to reverse. Once established, they create political beneficiaries who advocate for their continuation. The steel company that now receives protection will lobby to maintain that support indefinitely, as will the union leadership and any U.S. company that prefers not to compete fairly.
Meanwhile, the losers- the small shops, independent workers, and everyday boaters- don’t have the lobbyists. They don’t have the microphone.
Tariffs also evolve into a political tit-for-tat. One country raises a tariff; another responds. As this continues, both sides harden their stances. It transforms into a test of national pride rather than a discussion about economics. Trade becomes a weapon instead of a tool.
This is how supply chains break down. Friendships between countries begin to fray. Alliances strain over aluminum prices and engine parts. It stops being about jobs and becomes about winning, or at least, appearing to win.
The fallout extends beyond the economy.
When trade breaks down, movement also stops. Travel becomes more difficult. Visas are frequently denied. Customs agents become less forgiving. International cooperation on shipping, search and rescue, weather routing, and port access begins to diminish. Nations that once shared information quietly cease responding to calls. The permissions that once facilitated global travel, particularly for Americans, started to disappear.
For cruisers, this isn’t just theoretical. That freedom to sail from Grenada to Portugal to Greece relies on those quiet arrangements. The ability to fly home and return without any hassle. To register a boat, extend a visa, or receive medical care abroad. Even to check in at a marina without being treated like a security risk. The more tariffs and trade disputes escalate, the more those freedoms are eroded.
Tensions rise. Friction turns into policy. And in some parts of the world, economic standoffs eventually escalate into military confrontations. Not always. Not everywhere. But often enough to warrant attention.
The mid-tier cruising lifestyle depends on open doors- not only at borders but also within banking systems, customs halls, and parts counters from Key West to Phuket. When countries become inward-looking, those doors begin to close.
For Americans afloat, the ocean feels smaller not due to geography, but because of politics.
And that is the danger.
We’re not claiming that tariffs cause authoritarianism. However, they do concentrate power. They enable leaders to choose winners and losers. They undermine the invisible ties of global cooperation. Once you embark on that path, it’s difficult to reverse course.
When politicians claim that tariffs are about “American jobs,” question who truly benefits. Question who is paying more. Question which jobs will quietly disappear while a select few are shielded. Question what freedoms may be sacrificed when we begin to wield economic policy as a weapon.
History demonstrates that tariffs are seldom about economics; they focus on control.
Getting Around the Tariff Trap
If the U.S. imposes tariffs on additional boat parts, work won’t cease for everyone. It will simply relocate. Boats still need sails, paint, engines, solar panels, lithium, and plumbing. Cruisers continue to break down, upgrade, and undergo bottom jobs. The question isn’t whether the work will occur, but rather where it will happen.
Currently, much of this takes place in the U.S., specifically in North Carolina, Florida, Maine, and many small yards along the coast. However, if tariffs drive prices too high, those jobs and services might move overseas, resulting in others profiting.
Other countries could quickly step up. Locations like Grenada, Trinidad, and Colombia already have the essentials: yards, labor, access to shipping, and a reputation for being cruiser-friendly. What they lack is scale and support. However, that could change with some policy adjustments and a bit of effort.
One idea is to establish full-service refit hubs outside the U.S.- an offshore second home for American marine companies. At least one catamaran builder has already opened a yachting center on Grand Bahama Island. A yard in the Caribbean or Central America could handle everything from mast pulls to watermaker installations, but without the markup associated with U.S. tariffs, insurance overhead, or zoning disputes. U.S. builders and technicians could fly down, work a season, and then fly back. Boats would follow.
Another option is to establish marine freeports, duty-free zones for boats. These locations allow you to store, repair, or even sell a boat without incurring taxes. You can purchase a boat there, work on it, live aboard, or sell it to another cruiser. All of this happens in a gray area legal, safe, and beyond the reach of U.S. Customs.
Countries could also introduce long-stay cruiser visas. Think of them like the digital nomad visas that have become popular in Portugal, Mexico, and Panama. You pay a fixed fee, and in return, you receive the right to stay, buy parts tax-free, and perhaps even access basic health care or a shipping locker. This approach makes sense, as cruisers contribute economically and ask for very little in return.
If any amazing EU country wanted to offer my family of four EU passports so we could sail the Schengen Zone without issues, we’d be very happy. Just saying. I have a boat, and I won’t act like an ugly American when I’m a guest in your country.
Some business ideas could expand significantly. One could create a subscription-based service that transports boats to Colombia or the Azores for winter work. It’s similar to a seasonal snowbird program, but for yachts. You pay once to receive the haul, storage, labor, and parts all bundled together. Some of this already exists on a small scale, but there’s potential for growth.
Even now, most sailmakers operate this way. Precision Sails is based in Canada and takes measurements from boats worldwide. They have the sails sewn in Asia and ship them directly to cruisers. Doyle and North do something similar. Most American lofts rely on imported fabrics, threads, machines, and gear. If these get caught up in tariffs, more of that business shifts offshore as well.
And it’s not just sailmakers; rigging shops, marine air conditioning technicians, and battery manufacturers can all adapt. Some already have. This shift is evident in the increasing number of importers, online marine stores that operate solely in Panama or Martinique, and part-time marine technicians running small businesses from their boats.
None of this is illegal. None of it is shady. It’s simply smart adaptation. When the rules become too costly in one place, people relocate to another. That’s what cruisers do, after all.
The U.S. could retain this market. It has the talent and the buyers. However, if it relies too heavily on tariffs, it will drive that business into other hands, which will eagerly accept it.
Want to keep skilled American workers engaged? Then don’t make it difficult for cruisers to purchase the parts and services they require. Otherwise, that money—and that narrative—will go offshore, just like the boats do.
Where This Could Go
After decades of service, whether in the military, as a professor, or as a volunteer, it is somewhat sad to be here now. Some might say I was a sucker for not pursuing big dollars. In 1984, I had the opportunity to be a Microsoft programmer, but I chose to enlist in the military instead. I would never have met my wife, and the fantastic twins would not exist had I taken an easier path to wealth rather than one of service. I’ve taught around the world, never charging for speaking engagements, and I realize that my choice of service over self was the right decision. It’s disappointing to see my dreams go up in smoke.
So seriously, I need an EU passport (insert emoticon here). I’m not wealthy; I’m just a nice guy married to an amazing woman. I have a sailboat and will be a good tourist.
We may end up with a boating world divided in two. On one side, the wealthy can absorb rising costs and paperwork. On the other, the dreamers are sidelined, stuck, or forced to give up. The mid-tier disappears. The affordable vanishes. And the global, shared spirit that once defined the cruising life is replaced by something colder and more exclusive.
For Americans, this is especially perilous. The U.S. has long taken for granted that its passport opens doors. That assumption may already be waning. Lose that privilege, and everything shifts.
It won’t happen all at once. Just a little more cost here. A little more friction there. One more deal that doesn’t close. One more dream that is postponed.
And once those doors close, getting them open again could take a generation.
