Business in Miami and Party in the Keys

First, the news.

Around the time that we were bumping our way against a strong southerly in the Pamlico sound I said, "I don't want to sail home."  We'd been going back and forth between sailing or flying/trailering the the boat home, running through timelines and logistical considerations.  The various options surrounding navigation around Cape Hattaras did me in, and Cody was quick to acquiesce.  It would give us more time down south and we'd have fewer concerns regarding our trip home.  Well, somewhere out around Bimini, in one of our many afternoons spent read-swim-nap-reading, I quickly finished a book about the first nonstop circumnaviation.  It inspired me.  I think Cody had been pondering for some time if he could work things just right so he could sail home, with or without me (ostensibly I'd be flying home, not abandoned on a deserted island).  Well, there was a convergence in our thinking and we decided (rather impulsively on my part) that we wanted to sail home.  What could be more trioomphant than sailing back into Gloucester harbor after 3+ months away?  Nothing, of course.  It was with this hope of a marathon sail home (we planned for 2 weeks, while it took us 2 months to get down here) at I took the helm in the dark on our sail back from Bimini.  I felt good, I felt good about our decision.  

As we neared Miami, about 10 miles out and still in the most powerful area of the gulf stream, we saw some thunderstorms to our west.  The wind was blowing from the southwest, so I thought they might miss us.  As we grew closer it became clear that we were going to get wet, so we fastened things down and went through our normal quicky thunderstrorm prep.  It was then that I saw a water spout (a tornado, of sorts, on the water) start to form about a mile or two off the starboard bow.  A dark funnel dropped from the thunderheads, and a mirrored funnel rose from the sea to join with the former.  It's difficult to estimate size at sea, from that distance, and through the dread-colored lenses from which I saw it, but I'd estimate it's height at 400 feet and breadth at 10-15.   It was completely terrifying.  I called Cody on deck to point out this horrifying specter.  I pointed the boat south-southwest, motoring directly into the gulf stream; we were going about a knot.  Cody took the time to more fully fasten everything down, we donned life jackets and set up safety lines.  It was a very tense 10 minutes as we navigated away from this horrifying storm, but due to our change in course we only caught the edge of the rain.  The tension, for me, lingered until we were in the channel leading to Miami.  

This fear led me to feel a little hasty in agreeing to sail home.  The anxiety stayed with me during our time in Miami and on our two day sail to the Keys.  It was only anchored off Key Largo that I voiced my growing unease, knowing full well that telling Cody we could sail home and then taking it back would be like giving Riley a Thanksgiving turkey and then snatching it back after one bite.  Ouch.  I knew he had to go, now.  We talked about our options and what, specifically, I was uneasy about.  My biggest concerns were thunderstorms we were sure to encounter in Florida (every damn day here) and Hatteras.  Cody brought up the possibility of his sailing home alone.  While I've no doubt that he could do so safely, the unpleasantness of not hearing from him while he was at sea for 2 weeks, and the regret I'd undoubtedly have at not joining him, made any concerns I had about embarking on the trip myself seem insignificant.  We discussed finding another able sailor to join him, or both of us, but our list of possibles was short and both Pip and Timbah were otherwise engaged.  In an effort to assuage my concerns Cody brought up the option of staying inside Hatteras - sailing up the Pamlico (my arch nemesis of water-bodies) and then jumping on the ICW to Norfolk.  It would add a day or two to our transit, but just knowing I had that bail-out option, should the conditions not be ideal around the Cape, made me feel considerably better at the prospect.  That decided it - we'd sail home.  

So here we are in Key Largo, preparing to head north tomorrow.  There is a low pressure system out in the Atlantic that we'll be keeping an eye on, but should it develop into anything alarming we have ample time to take action and find a hole to hide in.  Any possibility of it developing and heading up the east coast is still at least a week away.  We're getting the boat in tip-top shape, and are heading out in a few to pick up provisions - sticking to easily preparable foods lest the seas be rough and cooking unpleasant.  If all goes well we'll be home in 2-3 weeks.  I cannot wait to see my dog.  And my kitties.  And our friends and family.  And I'm surprisingly excited about this last big challenge of our adventure.  

***

But a little about our time in Miami and the Keys!

When we reached Miami (post water spout incident) we knew we had to contact Customs and take care of business before we could do anything else.  This is made exceedingly difficult.  I was given an 800 number to call to check in, and called it as we motored up the channel, well aware that we would be passing the Customs office en route to our anchorage and wanting to take care of everything as efficiently as possible.  I was told that I couldn't check in over the phone until we were anchored.  OK.  We went to our old anchorage, having to wait for a scheduled opening of the West Venetian bridge, and I called in.  Okay, easy enough.  Then I was told that we'd also have to visit the customs office in person within the next 24 hours.  F$%#ing fantastic.  

It's worth noting at this point that we had both developed swimmers' ear infections in the night before our trip home.  We were achy and feverish and unhappy.  Also underslept due to our early departure. And it was pouring rain.  

We crossed back under the bridge at the next scheduled opening (it opens every 30 minutes, and there's a big sign in front warning that causing the bridge to open unnecessarly can result in a $250,000 fine.  The customs office was located at the cruise port and we quickly acertained that there was no way in hell anyone was going to let us tie the boat up there while we checked in.  Next plan.  We paid an outrageous $18 to tie the boat up at a municipal marina that was about a mile from the customs office.  In the rain.  Some people came out to help us tie up, but it would have been better to just let us do it ourselves.  Between the rain, the distraction of too many people, our ear pain, and not having had lunch, we managed to ram the front of the starboard pontoon into a concrete wall.  F%#$ing fantastic.  It was all right, fortunately.  I started to climb a ladder up to take another line from Cody and the ladder I stepped on hastily was designed to pull down.  I steppped on it wrong and it slid a foot down, causing me to crunch my knee and shin into the sharp aluminum rungs.  One of the unhelpful people who came otu to help said, "Are you all right?"  I almost punched him.  I went down below to cry a little and clean out my bleeding knee and left Cody to tie up alone.  Eventually he needed my help, so I pulled it together and we secured the boat.  What a fiasco.  We blathely ignored the customs official's instructions to go nowhere else before we'd checked in and went to CVS for ear drops.  They did literally nothing.  So we walked a miserable mile in the rain and checked in at customs.  It was quick and they had air conditioning.  

On the walk back we stopped by a clinic located at the cruiseport and went in to ask about our ears.  They were incredibly nice and helpful and said they'd see us both even though they were closing in 15 minutes, but they wouldn't take our insurance, so we decided to give it a day to see if things got any better.  We stopped to get food on the way back to the boat - my dinner that night consisted of jalepeno poppers and onion rings.  Healthy, Mar, and really good for your immunity and ear and stuff.  Genius.  We went back under the bridge, hoping it was the last time that day, anchored, and passed out.  

We awoke both still in a lot of pain and Cody called our insurance company to find a place to get looked at.  We took a cab, but the first place we went to didn't open until 3 PM.  What?  We hadn't had breakfast of coffee so I insisted we got to Denny's, where, swear to god, I had one of the nicest breakfasts of the trip.  Go figure, huh?  Thus fueled, we sprung for another cab and found a Fast Care that was open.  On Thursday, at 10 AM.  How radical.

We were seen together, which was sort of unusual but convenient enough, and given a prescription for ear drops and optional antibiotics.  Obviously we'd just been having too much fun snorkeling and being in the water every single day.  It happens.  We filled our prescriptions, shopped for groceries, and went back to the boat to feel sorry for ourselves.

The next day was laundry day, and our quest for a laundromat led us on a 3 mile goose chase into some pretty sketchy neighborhoods.  After finally finding a laundromat we had a really nice lunch at a cool old diner, and took care of a couple more errands.  Our final day in Miami we took a bus to South Beach and saw a movie.  It was so cold in the theater I wished I'd brought my hoody.  We ate more crap food and got next to no physical activity.  Whatever, we were still recovering from our ear infections.

The next two days were spent sailing down to Key Largo via Biscayne Bay and the Card Sound.  It was very pleasant.  We anchored in Tarpon Basin and were quickly accosted (that might be too harsh a word) by the permanent liveabaords who called the basin home.  They were pretty nice, I guess. I rented a car the next day to drive to Miami to pick up my mom.  She got in late so got us a room at Embassy Suites - another blissful night in AC and on a stationary surface, although I did miss the Captain.  We drove to Key Largo and met up with Cody and spent the next week introducing my mom to life on the boat.  We had a hotter and dryer than average week - our first days with no thunderstorms in over a month.  We snorkeled the amazing reef system, staying mostly within the middle Keys.  We saw so many turtles!  I'd promised my mom dolphins, whihc was a mistake, because it made me a liar.  But the turtles!  So many big beautiful sea turtles.  We did some hiking on Long Key, read a lot, and ate too much.  It was very nice, and very relaxing.  My mom and Noble were the only two who were able to make it down to sail with us! She left yesterday, taking a shuttle back to Miami and flying home this morning.

So here we are!  Up to date!  Leaving me free to fill my next blog posts with facinating stories of sail changes and canned food.  I didn't take many pictures because I knew my mom would take tons, but until I get her to email me some I have nothing to post from our time in the keys.  All words and no pictures?  What a rip off.

Bimini

At the moment I'm freezing in air conditioned business lounge in an Embassy Suites near Miami Airport.  My mom is coming for a visit and I'll be picking her up tonight.  I left Cody with the boat down in Key Largo - our first night apart since we began this wacky trip.  I'm doing laundry and printing information on good snorkeling locations near the Keys, and I figured it would be quite the luxury to type a blog post on a real computer.  It is.  But I wish I'd brought my hoody.  I think the AC must be down at 60 - at least that's what my room was set to before I had a chance to crank it back to 75. 

Anyway, I wanted to write about our trip to Bimini, Bahama, which is where I left off last time.  We spent a hot night anchored in Miami, with our alarms set for 3 AM.  Between the heat, the airport noise, and the guys who were engaged in a verbal dispute in the neighboring park for an hour (I was seriously wishing someone would just punch someone and then shut up, but alas, the yelling went on and on) we didn't get much sleep.  Undeterred, we rose with our alarms, hauled up anchor, and got moving.

The wind was predicted to be out of the Southeast, which isn't ideal when you're heading, oh, southeast.  We were shooting straight across the gulf stream which at time moves at 3 knots northward, and we'd decided that regardless of wind we would keep our speed no less than 5 knots.  So we basically motored across.  We had a smooth crossing, with our biggest trouble being from the seaweed floating in big clumps on the surface of the water that would clog up our engine, forcing us to stop and clear it off.  We had read that one should aim 2 degrees further south than the destination for each hour of travel across the gulf stream, so figuring 10 hours we pointed 20 degrees south of Bimini.  That proved unnecessary and halfway to our destination we corrected course.  At any rate, seaweed not withstanding, we had a very smooth crossing.

As we grew closer to the entrace to North Bimini Harbor we could see the bluegreen glow of the water, as light shone through it to the white sandy bottom.  I can truly say I didn't think water was actually that color.  I mean, sure, there are pictures of it like that in magazines and stuff, but that must be photoshop, right?  Or 1 in 1000 days.  But no, it's really like that, every day.  It was breathtaking.

We motored up to Alice Town and dropped anchor just across from Customs.  We raised our yellow quarentine flag (stitched together from a $1 Pet Supermarket shopping bag, rather than dropping $20 on a yellow flag from West Marine that we'll use once) and Cody dinghied to shore, passports and boat registration in hand, to deal with customs.  As per instructions I remained with the ship, but did allow myself a quick dip in the gorgeous water while I waited.  Customs was easy, and Cody was back in a half hour.

What to say about the rest of our time in Bimini?  A day by day account would get redundent, so I'll touch on the highlights.

We spent 12 days exploring the islands that make up Bimini - North and South Bimini, and Gun Cay.  There's also Cat Cay, but that's a private island for the 1% and we didn't feel like dealing with it.  We snorkeled almost every day, including a wreck snorkel on the Sapona, a partially submerged ship in about 10 feet of water.  It was there that we saw a big nurse shark who definitely swam over to check us out.  It was very cool.  One day we were heading north to find dolphins and, lo and behold, we found dolphins, and right outside the harbor.  I told Cody I was going to jump overboard (we had full sail up) and he finally said OK, go for it.  We swam with the dolphins for a while (Cody joined me after dropping sail and setting the anchor - I'm a bad wife) and it was amazing.  There were a good dozen of them, and they were digging something up from the sandy bottom to eat.  The water was close to 40 feet deep, but with the light and the clean water and the white sand it was easy to see the dolphins as they nosed around for a snack.  Occasionally they'd come to the surface and swim close by.  It was very, very neat.  We also swam with sting rays!  The first day we went down to Gun Cay we anchored in the little open harbor on the north end, called Honeymoon Harbor.  A guy was there with his two kids and they were feeding a bunch of stingrays that live in the harbor.  He invited us to feed them the shrimp he'd brought and it was completely amazing.  They were clearly used to being fed and would come right up and eat the shrimp out of our hands.  You could touch them as they swam around and their skin was amazing - not like fish skin, more like a dolphin or something.  I as completely enamored with the stingrays.  There was one who was missing his tail aand I named him Stumpy.

That was on the eve of my 31st birthday, and I woke up the next morning, my birthday, to a beautiful deserted harbor.  Might I recommend skinny dipping off your own deserted island for your next birthday?  It really can't be beat.  I then donned swimwear and swam with the stingrays again.  Stumpy came over and swam around, clearly wishing me a happy birthday.  We headed back up to North Bimini later that morning, stopping along the way to snorkel Turtle Rocks, which was amazing.

Cody had offered me a choice - scuba diving or a hotel - for my birthday present.  It was a tough one. One particularly bumpy and thunderstormy night made up my mind for me; I wanted to sleep inside, on something that didn't move.  I know, that's soooo boring compared with scuba diving with hammerheads.  What can I say?  Cody got us a room at Resorts World Bimini, and we had a lovely dinner at one of their very fancy restaurants.  The next morning we dawdled in the room, watching the Tour on ESPN and savoring our last few hours of air conditioning.  Happy birthday to me.

As we neared the end of our stay we wanted to check a few things off the must-do list, and one of those was to revisit the sting rays and bring our own shrimp to feed them.  The day before we set sail back for Miami we went back down to Honeymoon Harbor.  This time our plan was to don snorkels and feed them off the boat in the deeper water so we could watch them swim around (when we'd fed them before we'd been sitting in a foot of water just off the beach).  Well, that ended up being a little more intense than we'd planned.  While I'm not afraid of sting rays, it's a little intimidating when three of them are swimming towards you in aggressive pursuit of the bag of shrimp you're clutching.  After a few minutes of nervous snorkel-giggles and attempts to fend off some rather forward rays, we went back to the beach and resumed feeding them in the more controllable manner.

Later in the day Cody baked us a pumpkin pie on the grill.  Pumpkin pie.  In the Bahamas.  In July.  It was amazing, by the way.  And we were treated with an extraordinary sunset that night, the eve of our departure.

We arose the next morning at 3 AM to leave for Miami.  We'd been tossing around some ideas regarding our return to Gloucester, and our plans were contingent on my comfort with sailing Tri-oomph in the dark by myself (while Cody sleeps).  So after we rose sail Cody went back to bed and I took the helm as we entered the Gulf Stream.  I felt good with it and was encouraged, which furthered our plans of which I'll reveal in a later blog post.

But to wrap up, Bimini was amazing, and totally worth the trip.  The people were incredibly nice and helpful and we felt comfortable wherever we went.  What a great place.

Seriously amazing water.

Birthday girl under the full moon, post lovely dinner.

You can practically see the air conditioning.

Last sunset in Bimini did not disappoint!

Stumpy!

Welcome to Hurricane Country - Part 2

One quickly wearies of fighting the tides when motoring in and out of inlets, so we had a late start to our day leaving St. Augustine.  We followed the tide out at 9 AM, then tried to make progress down the Florida coast.  That progress was impeded somewhat by a stiff wind out of the South, however, and we found ourselves only 20 miles away from St. Augustine when the sun set.  Cody decided he'd like to sail through the night (sort of a foregone conclusion at that point) and I went to bed telling him to wake me when we reached our intended inlet.  He didn't, but the change in heading woke me anyway and for the first time we navigated an unknown inlet in the dark.  It was midnight by now and I went back to bed while Cody motored South on the ICW.  Again, in the dark.  I actually slept pretty well, although I did awaken when Cody ran aground on a sand bar.  He motored us off of it quickly and I fell back asleep. 

At 5 AM we were almost out of gas and near the only fuel within 20 miles of us, so we dropped anchor and I insisted that Cody sleep a couple hours before we made the 2 mile walk the gas station.  After an all too brief 3 hour nap we rowed to shore and tied the dinghy to the dock we were near.  Our guide book said there was a marina and campground, but all that was in evidence was a trailer park and boat ramp.  We walked to the gas station, filled up, and armed ourselves with cold drinks for the hot walk back, which was sure to feel longer with full jerry cans.  After a quarter mile or so a truck pulled over and the man behind the wheel offered us a ride.  We told him we were on a sail boat and had almost run out of fuel.  He said that he was working on a sail boat, trying to get it in the water, and he was happy to help sailboat people out.  He pulled into the trailer park and drove us down to the dock.  He knew the man who lived in the trailer at the end of the drive, and he called out, and I kid you not, "Morning Cleetus!"  Yes.  We met a southern man in a trailer park named Cleetus.  Immediately a man on a quad came down the road to see who was down by the dock, as did a woman in a golf cart who managed the park.  They were both set to hassle us, but our friend with the truck intercepted them and vouched for us.  We really couldn't have gotten luckier with our ride.  He gave us advice on the Bahamas, which he'd travelled extensively, and sent us on our way.

There was no wind to speak of that day, and we were limited to motoring the ICW.  We made decent progress but called it a day fairly early, dropping anchor just south of Cocoa.  The next day we found ourselves in a large sound, formally known as the Indian River, with the wind coming from the North.  Anytime we have an opportunity to go on a run on flat water our eyes light up and we start thinking about hauling up the spinnaker.  We had debated whether or not to bring it along on this trip, and that day we were rewarded for hauling it down the eastern seaboard with a gorgeous run that took us into the early afternoon.  Without that big beautiful sail we were moving along at 3 knots with the main and jib, but when we raised the spinnaker we were cruising along at 6.  The other cruisers motoring up and down the ICW looked on with envy and gave us friendly waves and thumbs up as we sailed smoothly by.  Eventually our wind died and we were once again motoring.  It was a lovely day, though, and the shores along the Indian River are lined with sprawling parks and Mediterannean-esque homes.  Way above our tax bracket. We had a long day and eventually dropped outside of Vero Beach.  

One consequence of our somewhat limited storage is that we, or rather, I, was forced to be rather judicious in choosing my wardrobe for the next 3 months.  We started out each with a crate of 2'x1'x1'. I sorted my clothes, packed them in gallon zip-lock bags and squeezed all the air out.  Cody had a hearty laugh at this heretofore unknown organizational side of me and wondered outloud how long this system would last.  This made me predictably angry, and then rueful when, 2 weeks into the trip I abandoned the bags.  Organizing my clothing is not a thing I do.  As I've grown older I've improved at some of my efforts at being a fully functional adult - it took me until this spring and my umpteenth semester of education to finally get straight A's - but organizing my clothing is a complete anathama to me.  Cody knows this fact better than myself, apparently.  Anyway, I now occupy both of the larger crates while Cody moved his clothing into one crate half the size of one of mine.  And it's not even full, and he's adopted my clothing-bagging method.  Whatever.  Anyway, my point in all this is that we don't have many clothing options and we find ourselves needing to do laundry with some regularity.  Anything longer than a week and the boat starts getting pretty ripe.  It's hot, we're sweaty, salty, and we eat in bed.  Don't judge.

The day we woke up outside of Vero Beach we were approaching laundry day and were considering leaving from our next stop, West Palm Beach, bound for the Bahamas in a couple days.  Not knowing the availability of coin-op laundry in the islands, we decided we should go with the maximum articles of clean clothing, towels and sheets.  With this in mind we stopped just before the St Lucie Inlet (our last chance to leave the ICW before it became an intolerable concrete channel with strong currents that regularly crossed bascule bridges with set opening schedules.)  We motored upriver to the town of Stuart and anchored just past a pretty fancy marina.  There was a dinghy dock, so we loaded up our laundry, paddled over, and walked into the laundry room like we belonged there.  If I've learned nothing else on this trip it's that if you look like you belong no one will give you a hard time.  Laundry room usage was of course supposed to be limited to guests at the marina and resort, not rifraff like us, but no one seemed to object to our presence.  We had a couple cocktails while we waited, saw a couple get married (inexplicably right next to the very crowded resort pool), collected our laundry, and split before anyone figured out that we didn't belong.  We motored back downriver and anchored outside of the channel, baked bread and pizza, and had a pleasant evening.

West Palm Beach had been our goal for a number of weeks - our intended jumping off point for paradise.  We sailed down and reached the Lake Worth Inlet that brings one into West Palm Beach just as a large thunderstorm blew over.  Fortunately it was a quick one and our visibility wasn't diminished sufficiently to make navigation in the inlet dicey.  This was a Sunday, and the boat traffic coming in and out of the Lake Worth area was insane.  We made it past the worst of it when two men on a small motor boat hollared at us.  They had run out of gas at a most inopportune time and and requested a tow to the boat ramp.  Another important lesson, true in life but most especially in the boating community:  what goes around comes around.  We've been so lucky with the people who have helped us when we've needed it and we always jump at an opportunity to pay it forward.  I grabbed one of our two gallon cans of mixed fuel and handed it to the guy.  We motored around while he emptied it into his gas tank then tried to get it started, but something went wrong (my guess is he flooded it) and he couldn't get the engine started.  We tossed him a line and towed them in to the boat ramp, which wasn't far out of our way.  That completed we went back to our intended anchorage.  It was a nice one, with good holding and protection, and a little beach where we could leave the dinghy.  

We weren't too sure what our plan of departure was but we definitely needed groceries, so we went to shore, got ice cream (natch), and visited the conveniently located supermarket, Publix.  This was our first encounter with Publix, but not our last.  It's a pretty nice store.  We picked up lots of groceries with a Bahamas trip in mind, as well as a bottle of rum.  We also stumbled across a mango tree in the front yard of an abandoned hotel, and we procured a mango.  In retrospect I wish we'd grabbed a couple.  

We got back to the boat, and checked the weather.  It was then that we first read about the low pressure system that would develop into Tropical Storm Arthur.  At this point it was to the north of us, but it was predicted to move south, meanwhile picking up strength, before heading north again.  We weighed our options and decided to stay put for a couple days and wait until we could have a relaxed passage across the gulf stream.  We ran some errands and made plans.  On the day that we were supposed to see the strongest weather we set a second anchor (our 17 lb danforth has been unmoveable, but when they're predicting 60 mph winds it's good to be safe).  And the storm was . . . sorta weak.  It was hardly windy that day, a little rainy when we went for a run, but generally a pretty mellow day.  We even went snorkeling.  Go figure.  Certainly it did pick up strength, but our first tropical storm encounter was sort of a bust.  Which is a good thing, where such storms are concerned, I suppose.

With all that time sitting around the boat we reconsidered our Bahamas plan.  We were both pretty worn out from always being on the move, and a jump over to Grand Bahama followed by a rushed tour of the Abacos just sounded exhausting.  We opted instead to sail south to Miami and spend our two offshore weeks in Bimini, Bahama.  One place, no need to rush around.  It was somewhat less adventurous, but some day we'll be back to the Abacos.  With that in mind, we headed south yet again.

It took us two short days to reach Miami, with a stop in Pompano Beach along the way.  Pompano Beach has this silly looking little harbor (on first glance one wonders how it can offer any protection at all) that is actually very still and offers good holding and a free town dock for day use.  

We got caught out in our strongest storm yet just before we reached the inlet.  Our approach is to drop sail and motor through, to avoid having to drop sail in 40 mph winds and the associated stress of such a task.  We were less than a quarter mile offshore and could hardly see 30 feet when we were in the thick of it, with stronger winds than we'd seen before and rain so big it felt like hail (I'd hate to experience hail).  A week before we'd been on a starboard tack with the dinghy right-side-up on the port trampoline.  The sea got choppy and we found ourselves with a dinghy over half full with water.  To avoid such situations in the future we flipped it upside down.  Unfortunately, this allows it to catch significantly more wind than right-side-up.  In the storm outside Pompano the dinghy was bungy'ed to our starboard trampline and the wind was coming from the east.  The wind gusted up enough to lift the dinghy up and almost send it hurtling into our mast.  Ruh-roh. As Cody continued to steer us through the driving rain, I climbed out onto the pontoon and flipped the dinghy back over.  I found myself unable to secure it without potentially ending up in the drink, so I did the next best thing and sat on it.  140 pounds of ballast keping it down, hopefully.  Cody told me to be careful so I grabbed the loose end of the main halyard and tied it around my wrist.   There.  Safety first.

Like all thunderstorms it came to an end before too long.  We were almost to Pompano Beach by then, and when we saw the free dock we thanked our lucky stars.  Then we saw the bagel shop next door and assumed divine intervention.  After tying up to the deserted dock we scuttled over for a hot chocolate and a toasted bagel with cream cheese.  Man, I have not been getting my bagel quota on this trip!  I need to work harder.

After a rainy but quiet night in Pompano Beach we struck out for Miami.  The wind sucked in the morning, so we motored most of the way.  When the wind did pick up, a scant 5 miles from Miami, it was out of the South.  We'd been pacing a larger catamaran all day and they had their sails up, and Cody said he felt inadequate motoring when other people were sailing, so we raised sailes and slowly tacked our way south.  We finally made it inside Miami Harbor, and after a fair amount of hunting around for fuel in the blazing sun, we found a place to anchor.  We were both overheated, dehydrated, and exhausted, so we dinghied to shore and went out to dinner.  Then Cody picked up an extra 5 gallon can of fuel while I grabbed a couple groceries to make our sail to Bimini the next day easier.  After some waffling we'd decided we wanted to leave early the next morning, July 4th, because the wind looked most favorable and because the very last thing I wanted to do was spend the 4th in Miami.  Cheers to independence, but no thanks.

I sort of love the pelicans. This one outside Vero Beach.

We bought drinks and fries, can we use your laundry room?

Ah yes. That looks about right.

Welcome to the Heart of Hurricane Country - Part 1

It was a 50 mile sail from Cumberland Island to St. Augustine, and we had, for the most part, great conditions.  We were able to hold a good course and the seas were relatively flat.  This was our first experience with Florida's wonderously deep shores.  Unlike Georgia, where we were never in waters deeper than 20 feet, even miles out from shore, Florida's coastal shelf drops off right away.  The contour line goes from beach, to 8 feet, to 30.  What does that mean for the coastal sailor?  Smooth sailing.  Most of the time.  While a slight breeze kicks up a big chop in shallow water, it takes some more serious weather to make those deep Florida waters get choppy.  In Georgia we would have to follow an inlet for 5 miles to get clear of the shoals and breakers, but in Florida we could head straight for land.  We wouldn't be aground until we were on the beach itself.  Seriously.  

Along that Georgia/Florida border there was tons of fishing - mostly shrimping, I think.  We spent a fair amount of our sail from Cumberland avoiding fishing boats, and at one point Cody decided to hail one who's course seemed unclear.  He asked me, "Does that say Miss Madeline?"  I pulled out the binoculars and looked, scanning only the second word.  "No, it looks like Magdeline."  He hailed on the radio, "Miss Madeline, Miss Madeline, this is the green sailing vessel off your starboard, come in."  (yes, I told him Magdeline, he knew it was Magdeline, it came out Madeline anyway.)  No response.  He tried again.  Again, no response.  Well, they seemed to be trying to go in across our bow, so we pointed out to give them time to get across us.  Coool, no big deal.  

Later in the day the thunderclouds started to build.  We had heard that Florida is sort of infamous for it's daily summer thunderstorms, and were reluctantly (on my part) prepared to encounter them.  We decided to pull down the jib, reef the main, and motor sail.  We were scantily clad (swim wear, because the day was hot) but put on our life jackets, hooked into safety lines, and fastened everything down.  As we approached the dark cloud and the wind pushed it over us we were overtaken by the ship we'd been hailing on the radio earlier.  On closer, or perhaps more through, inspection, we saw that it was actually called the Mary Magdeline.  Not only did that make more sense as a name, but it also explained the radio silence.  We followed the Mary Magdeline into the storm. 

Now, I'm not Catholic, nor remotely religious, but I have read a lot of Dan Brown novels and I'd be lying if I said I didn't take some comfort in following the Mary Magdeline through that storm.   What was the part about the Last Supper?  And Tom Hanks at the Louvre?

Anyway.

As we entered the worst of the storm the winds picked up to nearly 40 knots, the rain felt like hail against the skin, and visibility was limited.  Lighting struck all around us, thunder echoing off the land so we heard it twice for each strike.  The ocean looked crazy between the wind, spray, and rain.  As the wind gusted up Cody released the main sheet so our fully reefed sail wouldn't catch any wind, and it beat furiously against the lazy jacks.  Cody said, "Can you hold the tiller?  I need to pull down the sail."  Up until then I'd been sitting just behind the cabin, holding on to the seat, looking down to keep the  rain and nightmarish visions of death at sea from my eyes.  I took the tiller while Cody ran up to drop the sail, hoping that lightning didn't decide to hit the mast while Cody was touching it.  Once the main was down life got a little less crazy.  The noise of the outboard always intensifies even innocuous situations, and combined with the sound of the storm and the flapping of the sail the noises were almost overwhelming.  

But like all storms, it passed.  In a blink of an eye we could again see the shore, and the wind diminished.  The sky lightened somewhat but the rain contined.  Freezing cold, we dug out our long-since-stowed Grundens and bundled up against the rain and cold air.  We had 5 more miles until we reached St. Augustine and we left the sails down and the motor running.  

St. Augustine used to be a haven for cruisers, but the city had a problem with derelicts on derelict boats anchoring off of their lovely downtown area and de-classing the place.  So, they put in a big city-run mooring field and told everyone they had to anchor elsewhere.  Our guide book (Skipper Bob's!) recommended motoring up the river a bit and anchoring near one of thee marinas.  We passed many, many derelict boats anchored near the river or at some sort of shady marinas.  I like to think we're fairly unjudgemental people, but we like to maintain our boat and our property and it's hard not to say, "Okay, so, you live on that boat, maybe wanna scrape the 2 inches off moss off the top of it?"  That makes me sound like a jerk.  Well, sometimes I am.

Anyway, we motored up the river and saw what I firmly believe was a sea monster finning (twice) and found the recommended anchorage.  There was room for exactly us, nothing more.  We dropped two anchors, then dinghied to shore to get dinner at Hurricane Patty's.  After a long day of sailing and getting soaked we needed an adult beverage or two.  We got dinner and then went to the bar to watch the World Cup, but it was super crowded and we were a little overdone by then, and headed back to the boat.

We had long heard tales of a wonderous place in St. Augustine called the Sailor's Exchange, where one can buy and trade used or newish boating gear.  We wanted to go there, but we also needed to do some grocery shopping, so we deferred the fun stuff until after the business.  We asked the dockmaster at the marina if we could leave our dinghy there and he allowed it, no charge.  We walked a mile or so to Target, because we needed propane and stuff and it looked like one of those super Targets where they have groceries too.  On the way we walked by a fruit stand (Henry's Tomato Stand, to be precise) and could get our produce there on the way back.  En rroute to Target we found, bless my soul, a Dunkin' Donuts!  We aren't huge Dunks fans, generally preferring coffee with, you know, flavor and quality and stuff, but we are New Englanders, and as such we can't help but see a Dunkin' Donuts and feel a little homesick.  Stop we did, and got some cold berverages and maybe I had a donut, too.  Donuts are sort of like unicorns, too.  Delicious, ubiquitous unicorns.

After this little side trip we arrived at Target.  I love Target.  It's a guilty pleasure.  Cody hates it and says it smells funny.  Whatever.  I was so happy to be in Target I was nearly in tears.  We had a successsful shopping trip, where Cody found a tank top he'd long been searching for, then walked back to the boat, stopping at Henry's Tomato Stand and loading up on delicious and dirt cheap produce on the way.  After unloading at the boat we set out for Sailor's Exchange.  

It did not disappoint.  We spent an hour digging through boxes of hardware and piles of sailcloth.  The only problem was, we didn't really need anything.  We walked up to the counter with a canvas tarp (for shade and rain), a couple brass clips, and an old, smallish propane tank.  Cody asked the man behind the counter if they had any Dometic coolers.  They're these really neat fridge/freezer coolers for boats that plug into an AC or DC outlet.  Cody had been researching them to determine if we had enough charging power to keep one on, if it would fit in our space, and if it would completely bankrupt us.  They did have one, in their warehouse, that was just like new.  It was the larger size than we'd been looking for, but the price was right (or, so wrong it was right?) so we decided to get it.  The man helping us was awesome and had one on his own boat, En Vie Dansante, which as it turned out was on a slip at the marina near us.  He arranged for Cody to come with him to work in the morning to pick up the Dometic and get a ride back.  That afternoon he and his wife gave us a ride back to the boat and invited uss to come over for a glass of wine.  En Vie Dansante is a really nice 35 foot cat - not too big, not too small, and really nicely laid out.   

After a lovely hour of drink, snack and conversation we took our leave to walk around downtown St. Augustine.  It's a really nice area, dominated by Flagler University and lots of Spanish-stylle construction.  We walked to the A1A Brewery and just made happy hour (on a cruiser's budget you can't underestimate the power of happy hour).  Then we walked down the dock to check out the amazing galleon ships we'd seen docked when we'd come in the day before.  They charge to tour them, like a museum exhibit, but we talked to a guy who was crew on the larger of the two, El Galeon. It was built in Spain in 2009 and they'd sailed it over to the US.  Interesting fact, square-rigged boats can't head upwind.  Makes sense, but I'd never thought about it.  The guy looked at us like we were idiots when we asked how close to the wind they can sail.  Anyway, the other ship, the smaller, Nao Victoria, was a replica of Magellan's ship - the first to circumnavigate the world - and had recreated his historic journey.  Anyway, big wooden boats are cool, and having the guts to jump on one to sail around the world is pretty rad.  

As we were walking off the ship we saw a sea turtle!  A bigger one, about a foot and  half long, happily eating plantlife off the dock.  We walked around the historic fort and the older parts of town, all very neat.  We'd both been wearing our flip-flops and mine had been bothering my feet, so we ended up walking around town barefoot and I felt like a dirty vagrant.  Not to worry, our friends on En Vie Dansante had given us the code to use the shower at the marina, so we were able to wash up when we got back.

The next day we retrieved and set up our fridge, picked up our part for and fixed the foot pump, and generally prepared to depart.  We decided to walk to see a movie at a theater (X-Men, because we're not very sophisticated film-viewers), and then got caught in a storm on the walk back.  We hung out in front of a gas station until Cody started feeling awkward, then took a cab back to the boat.  It was an insane torrential downpour, and we waited for it to subside before paddling back to the boat.  

I really intended to make this one post, but it's grown far too long and who the hell would read it?   I mean, has anyone even made it to this point???   If you have, I'll reward you with pictures.    

Beer! A1A Brewery

Sea turtle magic.

A man and his fridge.

Being those shady people outside a gas station.

Chasing Unicorns in Georgia

Sorry, what can I say?  At a certain point one normalizes to any situation and it becomes . . . routine?  No, not routine, but the regular ins and outs of everyday life start to feel less blog-worthy.

You know what, scratch that, I've just been lazy.  Anyway, we're now in Florida, almost to West Palm Beach, but I'll back up.  

When last I left you we were anchored off of Hilton Head Island in South Carolina.  We were waylayed for a day there, working on the boat.  We'd cracked the rudder body at one point and it needed a major overhaul.  Also, our foot-operated water pump was leaking and our drinking water was emptying into the bilge.  We found a West Marine on Hilton Head Island, but it was a couple miles from the water.  We motored up the river as far as we could, looking for a place we could anchor and paddle the dinghy to shore.  We saw a dock that looked private, and cruised by it every so slowly looking for No Trespassing signs.  When we saw none, we decided to avail ourselves of it. We anchored the boat, paddled over and tried to tie the boat of the way, then walked off the dock like we owned the place.  As we exited we saw a sign that read, "Call Security When Exiting the Dock."  Well, at that point we were committed.  We walked the 2 miles through a very private country club community, winding around what we later learned was the most expensive golf course on Hilton Head (so, you know, ridiculously expensive).  We smiled and waved at everyone going by which was usually warmly reciprocated.  We saw an alligator!!!!  The first and, so far, only of the trip.  Cody says they crawl around golf courses.  Anyway, it was cool.  We gave the guard in the security house a hearty wave on our way out, hoping he'd recognize us as people who were supposed to be there when we tried to walk back.

We made it to West Marine and found a number of things we needed, but not the seal kit for the water pump.  We got lunch at a New York deli, got ice cream, and walked back.  Our entrance back into the gated community went unnoticed, and we proceeded back to the dock with no problem.  Our dinghy was still there (hallelujah!) and we paddled back to the boat, spending the remainder of the day doing boat repairs.

Hey, did you know that Cruising is a euphemism for working on your boat in exotic locations?

We spent the night where we'd dropped anchor and decided to try to go up and use their pump-out and fill up water on our way out the next morning.  We had just hauled up anchor and were motoring towards the dock when we saw a man in a security uniform walking out the dock with an angry looking old dude who'd been side-eyeing us the day before.  Casual as hell, we motored right past.  Good timing.  

That day there was little wind, so we mostly motored, but on the outside, where it's cooler and we can swim (in contrast to the hot, yucky ICW).  In the last hour or so we were able to raise sail and make progress, and it's always a relief to turn the motor off.  

When we were heading south through the Carolinas we were informed by a number of people that Georgia sort of sucks.  No, that's an exaggeration.  They said that, "there's not much there," and not to waste our time on it.  We took them at their word and didn't think much of it.  What we failed to recognize at the time is that we freaking love places where there isn't much there.  

The eastern edge of Georgia is bordered by a number of barrier islands (I think it's called the Gold Coast or something) that are, for the most part, wildlife sanctuaries.  Many of them are completely uninhabited.  We'd heard good things of Cumberland Island, which lies on the Georgia/Florida border, but nothing about those to the north.  

The day we left Hilton Head we crossed into Georgia and spent the night up St. Catharine Sound, just behind St. Catharine Island.  The island is privately owned and set aside as a nature preserve.  In the 80's it was populated with Ring-Tailed Lemurs from the Brooklyn Zoo as an experiment in repopulation of the endangered critters.  They did well there, and successive generations have remained on the island.  They're feral but their food supply is supplemented and they're tagged and given vet care when needed.  There aren't too many places you can study wild lemurs outside of Madagascar, so lots of poeple come out and observe them.  After a nice night anchored off the island we swam to shore the next morning and walked around in search of the lemurs.  We found some cages they can come and go from, and saw some food bowls, but no lemurs, alas.  We did, howevr, see a number of extremely jumpy deer and an enormous rattlesnake to which Cody nearly became intimately acquainted.  

Although it was nearly noon by the time we left, we ended up having a fantastic sail down the coast to Jekyll Island.  We were very low on fuel and food, and thought we might be able to reprovision there.  We anchored for the night up the river from the marinas and in sight of Brunswick, whcih sports a huge suspension bridge.  We motored the rest of the way to the marinas the next morning, fueled up, and asked if we could dock the boat for a few hours to do some grocery shopping.  The woman at the marina was very nice and let us dock for free (well, free if you don't count the $50 we spent on fuel and ice) and gave us bikes to ride to the store.  

Jekyll Island was interesting.  On one hand it looked sort of Old South, but in reality I think most of the buildings were pretty new construction.  I think they filmed the Legend of Bagger Vance there (having never seen the movie, nor investigated this claim, I cannot say for sure).  But very bike friendly.  And expensive.  We went to the grocery store, which was located in a doublewide (I think so it's less of a big deal if it gets washed away in a hurricane) and spent too much money on groceries.  Then we rode back to the boat and had a fight about spending too much on groceries.  I mean, it was hella expensive, but we were pretty much out of food, unless you count dried beans and tea, which I don't.  Then we anchored off the marina and spent the remainder of the day off Jekyll Island, for want of motivation to go elsewhere.  

The next morning we made the 25 mile motorsail (more motoring than sailing due to some rather meager winds) to Cumberland Island.  This was the one place in Georgia that came with a glowing recommendation and we were eager to explore.  It was blazing hot when we dropped anchor so we immediately rowed the dinghy to shore and hiked across the island to the Atlantic-side beach.  The island is amazing - covered in early 20th century ruins (I believe it was the Carnegie family who owned it and put up most of the construction) that were so damaged in one hurricane or another that the island was designated a national wildlife preserve.  There are numerous wild horses, armadillos, and a beachfront that is visited by nesting loggerhead sea turtles. Due to the shallowness of the Atlantic along the Georgia coastline the water, even in the Atlantic, was nearly as warm as the air.  It was hard to tell if it was warmer in our out of it, but still, nice to go for a swim, play in the surf, and realize that, at long last, the water was taking on that crystal clear quality for which we'd been long searching.  

We were still losing most of our fresh water from our tank into our bilge due to the leaking foot pump, and we'd disconencted the lines running to it to keep the boat from becoming too swampy.  After much calling around and internet searching we decided the only way we were going to obtain a new seal kit would be to have it shipped to West Marine in St. Augustine, FL, about 50 miles to the south of us.  It wouldn't arrive for several days, so we had some tiem to kill.  Better behind this beautiful island than in a city, we reasoned, and consequently spent 5 days anchored behind Cumberland.  At one point we made the 5 mile hop to Fernandina Beach for fuel, laundry, and the requisite ice cream cone, but in general, Cumberland had everything needed for human contentment.  The ferry that visited the island 3 times a day sold ice, and there was fresh water at the dock (it was well water, and tasted strongly of sulpher, ut it was potable.  A cute hippy couple we met (on the solstice, because they spend every  summer solstice on the island, because magical things happen) told us that the sulpher would keep the bugs away.  Mostly it just tasted like sulpher and resulted in higher than normal iced tea consumption).  Ice and water, together with the numerous smalll sea turtles we'd see in the morning and a general lack of obnoxious people, left us extremely content.  We went for a couple runs, swam a lot, baked bread, and felt like we were on vacation.  It was magical.  

A little aside on the sea turtles.  Early in the morning we'd be sitting on the boat, drinking coffee and tea as usual, and we'd hear a small disturbance in the water.  We'd glance over and see a wee sea turtle head emerging from the water.  As soon as you saw them, they'd duck under water again, quick as can be.  A minute or two later the process would repeat itself.  It was sort of magical.  Sea turtles are like unicorns. (other animals I've compared to unicorns on this trip include dolphins, sting rays and alligators).   

Finally, on Sunday (the part was scheduled to arrive at West Marine on Tuesday) we pulled up anchor and bade farewell to our little idealic island.  

I deeply regret cutting bangs back in March.

Baby horse!

Isn't she lovely?

There is scarcely a day that goes by that Cody and I don't turn to each other and say, "gee, you got a lot of sun today." Probably the most tan I'll ever be. Like, ever.