Countdown

This messy table is the first of about five loads of groceries we loaded yesterday.

For the past few days we have been running around taking care of provisioning, repairs, upgrades, and visiting. Unfortunately, not as much visiting as we would prefer. But this morning it looks like the trips to the grocery store, to WalMart, to West Marine, back to the grocery store, back to West Marine, back to the boat, and on and on are drawing to an end.

Yesterday Moss escaped the chaos on board when she upped stakes and went to her cousin Claudia’s house for a sleepover with a passel of other cousins. Ellen and I used our first night alone on board to take care of stowing some provisions and then fall asleep. Very romantic.

Short stubby dock.

We got the old batteries off the boat, into the car, and exchanged for new batteries. Got the new batteries out of the car, onto the boat, and installed. That’s about 350 pounds of batteries out and in. Look at the crummy dock we had to manage. I need a vacation.

After round 1 of grocery shopping, Ellen left me on Cupcake to get fix-it chores done while she went back to the store for more grub. While she was gone I fixed what may be the last leak for the time being. This is the one that gets Ellen’s side of the bed wet when we are in big enough seas that the bow goes into a wave. Doesn’t happen often, but nobody wants a wet bed, ever. So we will see what happens. Big seas are more likely over the next couple of big passages than they are typically.

Got the solar panels attached to their new frames. I am mostly pleased with the job. At some point we will have to have a canvas professional add some reinforcement to the spots where I popped bolts through the blue canvas. And I couldn’t get the panels to lie completely flat since they’ve taken on a semi-permanent bend from their years lying directly on the canvas. But overall they should flex significantly less in a stiff breeze.

Old vs. new

The chain stopper that keeps the anchor from slipping off its roller and plunging into the ocean was pretty weak, getting bent, and generally not confidence-inspiring. So I replaced it with a shiny piece of boat bling. The new stopper will take some getting used to for Ellen, but she is eager to incorporate it into her anchor rituals. Pablo seems happier. He is certainly more snug.

Boat bling.

Back in Virginia I broke a bracket that holds one of the water maker filters. I jury rigged a good-enough repair, but figured I should replace the bracket if I can. So I called the Spectra water maker guy who happens to be based in Hollywood, Florida. Turns out he lives right down the road from the marina. J. T. at Halden Marine Service delivered the bracket to us and then refused to take any money for it because it was a used piece (although in perfect condition.) Super nice guy. Call him for all your water maker needs.

The temperature has been in the low 80s since we arrived yet it was a major search to find a store that sells Crocs (can’t get summer shoes in the winter in Florida, I guess). But you can absolutely go to the North Face store in the Aventura Mall and buy jackets that would keep you warm in Maine. This is a crazy, maddening state. We saw a guy in his convertible Porsche, with the top down, wearing a wool winter cap. I’m sweating just thinking about it.

Moss got new Crocs because her paddles have grown so much since we set sail. These should be easy to spot when they fall overboard.

One project we didn’t even think about until we were in St. Augustine was adding lights to the dinghy. First of all, it turns out it’s illegal to motor around in the dark without lights on your dinghy. Second of all, it’s really dangerous to be in a tiny little boat at night with no lights. Particularly in a crowded anchorage. So we shopped around and decided it made sense to spend a little more for quality lights. We got Navisafe LED lights. The light mounts on a stick that attaches to the little white doo-dad I bolted to the back of Mr. Flowerpot’s engine cover. The light itself is tri-color: red, green, and white. We will see how it does when we make our first evening excursion with it tomorrow.

We also retired our Maine flag. It had gotten pretty tattered. Although we love our state, we think its flag stinks. Looks generic. Like New York, Vermont, Michigan, Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, Connecticut. Can’t tell them apart.

That’s some serious tatter.

So we replaced the flag with a super cool old-school Maine flag. This was the state flag in 1901 and we like it lots.

This morning I got the fishing gear out of deep storage and moved it to the top of the pile. I rigged up a lure on each of the two reels we’ve got. Now we are ready to catch something delicious as soon as we are in deep enough water that we have a chance of finding a tuna.

Ellen is the killer on board and got all sorts of crazy looking lures. Based on what we’ve seen on the YouTubes, it looks like dispatching a big unhappy fish in the cockpit of a little sailboat is a messy, bloody, scaly proposition. We’ve also been told that dosing the fish in the gills with alcohol before it gets brought on board can settle it down so the murdering goes much more smoothly. Ellen picked up a bottle of Fleischmann’s vodka and I put some into a spray bottle. We are ready. (And if we catch nothing, still: vodka.)

While I was in re-arrange mode, I got the snorkel gear out of the bottom of the storage locker and buried the fenders, the chafing gear, and the hurricane lines down there. It’s really nice to switch from ICW mode to tropical waters mode.

Based on what we are seeing in the weather forecasts (check out windy.com) we think we will have favorable wind and seas for a Gulf Stream crossing some time between Saturday and Tuesday. We want no hint of a wind from anywhere north. We want small seas. And it would be truly ideal is we had a 15 knot breeze we could sail as well.

Ellen and I just looked again and are getting pretty comfortable with Sunday as the day. The winds seem right and the swell will have settled by then. In preparation for the crossing, I moved our offshore emergency flare kit to a spot where we can reach it quickly. We will up anchor and be underway by 4am so we arrive in Bimini well before sunset.

Tomorrow we leave the marina to anchor in the little lake behind the docks. Marina life is convenient for many of the tasks we needed to accomplish, but it is not how we like to live on Cupcake. Less privacy, more noise and dirt and grime. Ironically, the marina is the place where we have access to fresh water hoses and the marina is the place where we most need to scrub the boat clean. In any event, Ellen’s got a hankering for anchoring, as usual. And we are all itching to get across that Gulf Stream. Saturday we will move back to Lake Sylvia in Fort Lauderdale and rest up.

We may be incommunicado for a day or three at the beginning of next week. Don’t panic: Joshua Slocum didn’t have a cell phone. Neither did Ahab or Noah. And 66% of them survived their most famous voyages. (Landlubbers: Joshua Slocum was the first person to sail around the world alone. He did it 1895-1898. Read his fabulous book “Sailing Alone Around the World.”)

Our technological needs hinge on our ability to get a compatible SIM card for my cell phone. But when I emailed and called the Batelco office (Bahamas Telephone Company) in Bimini I got no response. So we will just have to count on getting what we need once we arrive. If we can’t get a SIM card and a Bahamian phone number and data plan, we will manage the old-fashioned way by going from wifi hot spot to wifi hot spot.

The mall is…

so much fun!

I keep finding great properties for my brother and sister-in-law to buy (like this little cottage in Fort Lauderdale). All of a sudden they are telling me we may need to split the cost. And I’m doing all the research!

Hollywood, Florida. Not moving here: I’m still too young and spry.

Graffiti that speaks to me.

I didn’t forget. Here it is.

Updateville

Quick update: we left Vero Beach after a productive stay. Initially I was worried we would want to remain in Vero longer than we were able, having heard it’s nicknamed “Velcro Beach” because cruisers arrive and then are loathe to depart. However it was a community that did not really speak to us…lots of aging cruisers fussing about their potluck dinners, the sofas in the lounge, and The Weather Channel. It was a community of liveaboards, but did not seem to be a community of many cruisers waiting to head further south.

Also, we had to raft up to another boat at a mooring for the night. That made all of us uncomfortable, particularly since the our neighbor was looking a little neglected. Our mooring company at home sent me an email this fall advising me our shackles and other mooring gear in Freeport were getting worn out. Believe me when I tell you it is all in much better shape than what we tied up to last night.

When we walked to Vero Beach for a bite to eat yesterday evening we were amused to see that across the street from all the condominiums there was block after block of storefronts for all the big retail financial planners. Gotta help those snowbird retirees manage their money. 

The beach was beautiful in the gathering dusk. And the calm seas put us in the mood for some real sailing, so I think tomorrow we will go out the Fort Pierce inlet and head south 25 miles or so the the St. Lucie inlet. It will be nice to get both sails up again, and it looks like we will have clear skies and a favorable breeze.

This morning we cast off the mooring line and made our way further south. Not far…we are anchored in a perfect little cove just south of the Fort Pierce inlet. This anchorage has 360 degree protection and is delightful. We are in company of three other cruising sailboats we’ve been seeing off and on over the past week or so.

Moss got massacred by no-see-ums over the past few nights, so today Ellen dosed her with Benadryl during our trip and the kid was out like a light. Fortunately, Moss got her education for the day before the soporific effects of the medicine took hold. When she awoke, we were sitting pretty at anchor.

After lunch we all went for a swim to check out the water (warm, turbid), and the hull (fuzzy, barnacle-clad). We did a half-hearted attempt at scrubbing the six or so inches just below the waterline that we could see, cleaned the rudder, then paddled around until a few jellyfish freaked us out and we ended the swim. A real cleaning will have to wait until we are in the clear waters of the Bahamas.

Ellen is defrosting a chicken to roast for dinner. There’s ice for the bourbon. Things are great aboard Cupcake.

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Ok, so we didn’t have enough internet to post that quick update. We probably won’t have enough tonight either but I’ll write this now and post it later. (That last sentence doesn’t make much sense to the reader since, obviously, the posts have now been posted.)

We did not end up sailing outside the other day because a cold front snuck up on us and leaving the ICW through the Fort Pierce inlet for a day on the ocean seemed ill-advised. Instead we had a pleasant motor-sail in company of two of our neighbors from the night before. When the weather deteriorated and the wind picked up and the rain began, we furled the genoa (we have not raised the mainsail in weeks, it seems) and donned our foul weather gear. When the sun came back out, we sailed again. 

Windswept

We enjoyed sailing with our two companions because they are the only boats we have ever passed under sail. (To be fair, the 42’ boat was taking it easy so her companion boat could motor-sail and keep up. But we passed them both.)

Ultimately we made it to a neat little anchorage in a harbor called Manatee Pocket. In a spot surrounded by big-money boats and bigger-money homes, we anchored in a mooring field filled with derelict boats. One of the owners of a not-particularly-derelict boat came over to chat for a while. We asked about the two boats that seemed to be tangled and he explained that one dragged its anchor five years ago and the two have been “dancing together” ever since. No owner or entity has done anything about the mess. Curiously, although some of the boats had shredded sails, others had busted windows, one had an osprey nest on its solar panels, one was de-masted, every one of the boats in the anchorage had a working anchor light. 

Our visitor told us that the “boat police” will give tickets if there’s no anchor light.

The cold front didn’t bring the fierce winds we anticipated. Or if it did, we did not experience them in Manatee Pocket because it is so well-protected. We passed a peaceful night thanks to Ellen’s excellent choice of anchorage and thanks to Pablo. Just before the sun set, we saw our second manatee of the trip. They are big fat creatures. At at the nature center the other day we learned that manatees have prehensile upper lips.

From Manatee Pocket this morning we motored what may be our last day of more than a few miles on the ICW. We are anchored near Lake Worth and hope to spend tomorrow running errands (West Marine, hardware store, playground) and performing maintenance (solar panels, readying the boat for ocean again) before we make a full day trip outside down from here to Fort Lauderdale. That trip will get us back in the blue water and it will help us avoid about a million drawbridges on the ICW.

Today, thanks to Ellen’s peerless trip planning, we went through seven drawbridges without a hitch and without any delay. This feat is particularly impressive because three or four of the bridges opened not on request but on a fixed schedule. Miss the opening and you have to wait half an hour before the bridge will open again. Holding position for half an hour in the current and wind with powerboats zooming all over the place is a challenge we did not want to experience. So we made every bridge with a few minutes to spare. Now we are anchored at Lake Worth.

On the one hand, we have a huge pile of things to take care of before departing the US for five months in the islands.* On the other hand, all we really need to do is fill the horizontal propane tank and go grocery shopping. Lots of cruisers get stuck provisioning and miss opportunities to depart. Even more sailors never leave their home ports because they are never quite finished getting the boat ready. We acknowledge that we will never be completely ready to go, but we should be ready enough by Thanksgiving or so.

As excited as we are to be in south Florida with its palm trees, splendid weather, green water, sandy beaches, and family members (of ours…we get that pretty much everybody is someone’s family member) we are finding ourselves a little overstimulated. There’s a skyline at the water’s edge tonight, for goodness sake. There are so many boats all over the place. We think a week or two down here will be plenty and then we will be more than ready for the solitude of the Gulf Stream crossing and the  s l o w pace in the Bahamas.

*Here’s a partial list:

get a Bahamian SIM card for the phone so we can have a data plan in the Bahamas

replace the bracket on the water maker filter that I broke back in Virginia

take all our extra clothing and gear off the boat and dump it at the in-laws’ place

get flu shots

remove the batteries

replace the batteries

finish installing the solar panel frame

get plane tickets for Simon so he can visit in December

get the propane tank filled

have AT&T unlock our iPhone so we can use a Bahamian SIM card

The to-do list Post-It port light.

restock the first aid kit

get additional fuel filters

get more motor oil

don’t forget Simon’s birthday

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Well that last update didn’t post with our slow cell service. It’s now November 18 (Simon’s birthday). Yesterday we moved just a few miles down the ICW to the southern Lake Worth anchorage. Because the trip was so short, we had time to go ashore beforehand to check out the West Marine to get a few things, and to check out the grocery store where Ellen scored a half-year supply of Parmalat boxed milk. (Landlubbers, boxed milk is a magical product that needs no refrigeration until it is opened. So we can store 40+ quarts of it and make ourselves less dependent on the expensive and unreliable grocery stores in the Bahamas. Also, it tastes creamy delicious.) After the shopping and the moving of the boat, we realized the water was so clear we could see the bottom at 11 feet. 

Frogman.

Of course we dug out our snorkel gear and jumped right in. Saw a little ray/skate on the bottom, saw a school of little fishies, saw a spiny lobster carcass, and saw the anchor all dug and snug. We also were pleased to see that although Cupcake has a bit of slime and some barnacles on her hull, she is not nearly as fuzzy as we were afraid might be the case. The three of us got about 1/4 of the bottom clean before we gave up and just went swimming. There will be plenty of time to scrub in the coming weeks. The zincs we installed in Delaware are still zincing away, so I can wait a few more weeks before renewing them.

After the swimming and dinner I went straight to bed so I would be rested up for today’s long trip out on the ocean. We wanted to do some real sailing to make sure we remembered how, to run the water maker for the first time since North Carolina before hurricane Florence, and to avoid the 21 bridges we would have had to contend with on the ICW.

Today’s run from Lake Worth inlet to Fort Lauderdale/Port Everglades inlet was our longest day in miles and in hours since Atlantic City, New Jersey…it was 47 miles and was our first trip on the ocean in quite a while. We hoisted the mainsail before hoisting the anchor so we were ready to go when we caught the wind at the outside of the inlet. The Lake Worth inlet was super easy and fairly calm. Turning south towards Fort Lauderdale we rode a fabulous east wind and were screaming along at 7+ knots for hours. We occasionally hit 8 knots through the sapphire blue water. We have finally gotten to water that is indescribably beautiful. Offshore a few miles the water was clear and warm and exactly what we’ve been dreaming about for years. At one point we were able to make out the sandy patches on the bottom in 44 feet of water. Aah.

My dirty little secret is that I often get seasick when we go offshore. Sometimes I am completely fine in the bounciest of weather, other times it takes very little under sail for me to feel queasy. Every time we have been in the Gulf Stream I have been miserable and puking the whole time. Because I anticipate similar problems on next week’s crossing to the Bahamas, we decided to experiment today with the anti-seasickness patches we brought. I patched-up at 6am and felt fantastic all day despite some work below in the bouncy waves, despite putting in more and more reefs in the mainsail (at one point we were reefed down to our third reef points), and then letting the reefs all out again. Reefing our sail is typically the kind of activity that makes me vomit if I am on the edge of nausea to begin with. (Landlubbers: a reef-point is a set of grommets in our mainsail that allows us to reduce the amount of sail we are flying but still keep some sail up for speed and control. We have three sets of reef points, each set reduces the size of the sail-triangle a bit more. Contrary to common sense, reducing sail will often make the boat sail faster. It usually makes the boat sail easier. It always makes the crew feel less anxious.)

Today was a great day for testing some of our systems. The patch was an unqualified success. When I started feeling drowsy, a RedBull kept me awake. Usually when I have a RedBull it makes me wired for hours. It is clear that the patch was countering that caffeine because after my drink, I just felt non-sleepy instead of completely hyper. We are figuring I will need two or three to keep me on task for next week’s crossing to the islands.

Once we got to Fort Lauderdale, we were in the midst of south Florida craziness like we have not come close to experiencing yet on this trip. There were oil tankers offshore, a host of enormous cruise ships at dock, millions of gnat-boats zipping everywhere without the slightest regard for manners or rules of the road. You can’t get mad at them because you would lose your mind. Far better to be amused at their ignorance and get over it. Moss was freaking out because of all the eye-candy: huge private yachts, fabulous water-front homes, gigantic sailboats. Oh my.

Our anchorage for the night is a protected basin called Lake Sylvia. We intend to anchor here the night before we cross to the Bahamas. So it made sense for us to check it out now so we know what to expect next week and so we have a path already in our GPS showing us the way in and out. Our plan is to depart well before dawn when we are here next week, so it is essential that we have an easy exit to the ocean.

Now we are sitting at anchor waiting for all the day boaters to leave so the wakes die down and peace once again settles over the anchorage.

Tomorrow we will head to the municipal marina in Hollywood for a few days of provisioning, visiting, and giving of thanks.

BIG container ship south of Fort Lauderdale.

Skipper Moss.

This is the spectacle that greets cruise ships arriving in Fort Lauderdale.

This is the dinghy storage in the side of a super yacht.

Here’s what you came to see: the selfie.

Vero Beach

Oh boy. I just typed up a wonderful, clever, well-written, funny, poignant post. Then it got lost when I tried to save.

So I’m not going to do it again. 

Summary: we are in Vero Beach. 

We are at the municipal mooring field so we can do some laundry, get some diesel, fill the water tanks, and use some wifi. In about three weeks we should be back to using the water maker again. And we should be back in water where we can swim!

We are slowly heading to Hollywood for Thanksgiving. 

We will stay at a marina there for three days because there’s no other way for us to get to shore and leave Mr. Flowerpot somewhere safe.

Then we will wait for decent weather and cross the Gulf Stream to Bimini in the Bahamas. Ideally before December, but we don’t control the weather.

Last night we stayed at a super calm anchorage near a nature center so we could check it out this morning.

Mangroves are pretty cool.

The weather has been stormy but nice and warm, so we are pretty satisfied.

Moss has been more and more involved in running the boat. This morning she started the engine, uploaded the route to the GPS, drove the anchor out of the mud, and got us started out heading down the ICW for the day.

That’s it. Not typing any more.

Enjoy the pictures.

Haulover Canal bridge.

Bucolic ICW scene.

Sunken ketch or yawl.

Mastless boat. Maybe something can be worked out.

Derelict boats in Eau Gallie.

Dock Buddha.

Nature center.

Little mangrove froggie.

Tops of the mangroves.

Harassing the fishies.

Pond samples.

Research tools.

No cupcakes and unicorns, but we’ve got a rainbow.

We think this sign means “RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!”

I’m trying to talk my brother and sister-in-law into buying one of these homes so we can dock Cupcake in front and retire.

Ellen won’t blog about it, but she is proud that she wore out a set of anchoring gloves. She has about another dozen pair.

And the selfie.

More maintenance excitement

After the successful oil change – as it happens, I did not spill a drop when I added the fresh oil to the engine, that good fortune was primarily due to my careful funnel management and newly-learned patience – I addressed two other engine maintenance items.

The first was the engine pencil zinc. Sacrificial zincs are used in the engine for the same reason they are used on the propeller shaft. The idea is that the combination of saltwater, electrical current, and dissimilar metals will result in corrosion. Because we would rather not have the prop shaft or engine block rust away to nothing, the zinc is inserted into the system and replaced periodically. (Side note: the brand zinc we use is “Martyr.”)

The pencil zinc in the engine was just about gone, so my timing was pretty good. Then I changed the paper fuel filter, figuring it’s better to change the filter prophylactically than because of a crisis.

When we were in the St. Augustine mooring field we saw a guy cleaning the hull of his big Nordic Tug. The difference between the yellow ICW staining on his hull and the parts he had cleaned was dramatic. So we told him how great the boat looked and he told us which magic potion he was using. We picked up a bottle and man, is it fantastic.

The product is called “On & Off” and it is made by Marykate. Cupcake was sporting a nasty yellow-brown stain at her waterline. It’s derisively called the Intracoastal Waterway Mustache. I had just resigned myself to wearing our mustache as a badge of honor. (After all, we have sailed a very long way over the past few months…we earned that mustache.)

Anyway, it is truly a wipe on, let sit, then rinse kind of a cleaner. So this afternoon I spent a very enjoyable 90 minutes cleaning Cupcake’s waterline. From 10’ away, the boat looks spectacular. Any closer than that and her various and sundry battle scars are evident. More badges of honor. Next step: scrub the nasty growth off her bottom. We need clean water before I’m tackling that task. (Moss just said, “Hey! Can I help?” Absolutely.)

The past two nights we’ve anchored in some more crowded anchorages than has been typical for most of the trip. (Really, most of the way down the coast we were the only boat in sight, much less the only boat in the anchorage.) Last night there was a 40’ abandoned Morgan Out Island about 75’ behind us. Ellen was nervous all night. 

Tonight we are in a tiny little anchorage in a little town called Eau Gallie. It’s near Melbourne, Florida. The anchorage has 360 degree protection and the cruising guide says there is room for two boats. There are about six anchored here. Some are derelict, some are not, some are in-between. (We are decidedly not derelict, just check out our gleaming white waterline.) So once again it is pretty tight quarters.

We thought there would be decent shore access so we could land the dinghy at a town dock and walk to town for dinner. Alas, Florida is proving to be a difficult state for the cheap transient sailor. Aside from marinas (no thanks) and municipal mooring fields, there do not seem to be a surfeit of ways for us to get to shore to check out towns. Even New Smyrna involved a decent dinghy ride to the town dock and then a long walk to the beach.

Anyway, we drove Mr. Flowerpot to the nearby boat ramp and found there was nowhere to tie up. The ramp was busy with trucks and boats, nowhere to actually leave the dinghy. So we dragged her up on shore and walked over to the playground for a little run-around time.

Ellen wants to point out that although I make a mess of my maintenance tasks, she is a patient girl and spills not a plop when she empties the composting toilet solids bin.

One more thing: Moss has asked repeatedly if we can extend the trip permanently. She claims to love living on a boat. We all do.

Magic potion.

Oil change

It is with a heavy heart and oily fingers that I type this post.

My excellent plan had been to do a drip-free oil change this afternoon. After all, what could go wrong? I installed, last fall, an oil change pump hardwired into the 12 volt system aboard. The system is plumbed to a tube running from the oil pan, to a little pump, finally to a drain tube. All I need to do is put that drain tube in an empty jug and flip the switch (toggle switch, of course). No reason to get dirty at all. Then I just watch and leave everything alone until the old oil is effortlessly sucked out of the engine. All this using electricity we generate ourselves with the solar panels.

Did I leave everything alone? I did not. I fussed with things. I adjusted things. I peeked at things. And finally, I pulled the drain hose out of the jug, just a little, to check how the filthy black oil was flowing. Then I dropped the hose into the previously oil-free bilge. So now I have banished myself to the computer to type this post while the pump does its thing.

When the oil is out I will go back and remove the filter (from the remote filter base I installed a few years ago…big improvement), clean up, put on the new filter and spill the new oil all over the engine block, no doubt.

Nevertheless, I am having a fine time. Been fantasizing about this task literally for years. This boat maintenance business is the stuff of dreams. Seriously.

The scene pre-catastrophe.

New Smyrna

Our time in St. Augustine was great fun. We extended our stay to three days so we could socialize with our new friends, enjoy the town, and take a break from daily travel. It was time well-spent. Everyone we met was friendly, fun, and interesting. We hope to meet up with them in the Bahamas in the coming weeks and months. The only issue we had was with our social calendar. These cruisers like to go out and play. They wore us out.

We occupied our days with trips to the playgrounds (swings and slides for Moss, marine stores for Ellen and me). And then in the evening there were cruiser events at local restaurants and bars: Tuesday was half-price wings night, Wednesday was free dinner at another bar. After that dinner we dropped Moss and the girls from Orion off on Cupcake so the adults could go into town for a few hours at a martini bar. (Don’t tell DHS. Or the grandparents.)

The down-the-coast portion of our adventure is drawing to a close. We anticipate arrival in Hollywood before the 20th, and as soon as the turkey is digested and the winds cooperate, we will make the jump across the Gulf Stream to Bimini in the Bahamas. I’ll get into the details in a week or two, but because the Gulf Stream is a northward-flowing river in the ocean between the south coast of the US and the Bahamas, it is critical that we cross it when the wind is not out of the north. 

As we saw in Buzzards Bay, Atlantic City inlet, St. Mary’s Inlet, and countless other places, when wind blows against current, conditions deteriorate to anywhere from uncomfortable to perilous. We are eager to avoid that whole spectrum. 

The scenery is beginning to change now that we are south of Daytona Beach. The water is green again. The marsh grass has given way to mangroves. The signs along the ICW are more likely to be about manatees than alligators. The solitude has been replaced by more homes and high rises. And we are seeing many more boats: southbound cruisers on powerboats or sailboats, and lots of what Moss calls “mosquito boats.” Mosquito boats are the little center console fishing boats that buzz past us all the time. 

This one isn’t even abandoned, it’s a liveaboard.

We are also seeing lots of derelict boats, usually sailboats. It’s likely many of these are storm-damaged boats abandoned by their owners. Florida has a real problem with these things because of the cost and logistics involved with removing them. Actually, Florida doesn’t seem to be removing them at all…yesterday we sailed past a sunken sailboat that was in about 25’ of water and was within 20’ of the approach to a drawbridge. Only the top 15’ of mast was above the water. Seemed like a hazard to navigation. (Actually, it also seems a little bit like an algebra problem.) Yesterday we passed dozens of abandoned boats. Today we are anchored near another ten or so.

Always an unsettling sight.

For the most part our weather has been splendid. Temperatures are right where they belong in the low 80s during the day and the high 60s at night. Most of the time we have all hatches and portholes open. Even the bugs have taken a break, for the most part.

The OceanPro binoculars…loyal companion, ready for some R&R at Spa Nikon.

The only problem we’ve had from the rain was when it killed our trusty waterproof Nikon OceanPro binoculars. One lens is fogged now, so for the time being they are monoculars. We’ve had them since 2005 when my in-laws got them for me as a law school graduation present. Fortunately, Nikon will repair or replace the binoculars for free. Go Nikon! Unfortunately, there’s no time to get that task completed before we head east.

When we were visiting with new friends on Tiger we checked our their floating, waterproof binoculars and liked them a lot. We also liked the price. We especially liked that the research on which ones to get was done by a retired Coastie. A sailor with Coast Guard training has got to be able to pick a binocular better than I can. So we copycatted them and expect Amazon to have the binocs waiting for us at the in-laws’ place in a few days.

Speaking of cats, we got to tour some pretty big catamarans this week. One had four bedrooms and four heads, another was 50’ long and two engines, two generators, and a full-sized chest freezer. Inside (and outside) catamarans are really foreign-looking boats to us monohull sailors. Snooping around on a catamaran feels a little as if we have found ourselves aboard some kind of alien spacecraft: all the shapes and spaces are radically different from what we are used to on Cupcake.

We just set anchor just south of New Smyrna and are planning a beach afternoon. Sun is bright and warm, winds are gentle, anchorage is calm. There seems to be unprotected wifi in the area (thanks “Yacht Club Outside” hotspot). Things are pretty great here in Florida.

St. Augustine

Beautiful building at Flagler College in the heart of St. Augustine (which claims to be the oldest city in the country).

Here we are in St. Augustine, hanging off a mooring ball in the city’s municipal mooring field. The mooring fee (a fairly reasonable $25/night) gets us access to the laundry, the showers, the dinghy dock, the fresh water, and wifi. Staying here has also put us in the orbit of several kid boats, so Moss is in heaven. She hung out with the kids from Orion yesterday, then we met them (and parents) at a coffee shop this morning.

We had planned to move south this morning, then we remembered we are in no hurry whatsoever. Then we heard about a marine salvage store, then we found a canvas repair store, then we heard about wings and half price drinks night tonight and free dinner tomorrow night. So we are staying a couple more days here.

Big tour boats docked at the municipal marina.

There is a cruisers’ net on the VHF at 8am each morning when people who have recently arrived get to say hello to the other people in the mooring field, people who are moving on get to say goodbye, and everyone else gets to talk about what events are going on that day. We said hello and mentioned we were a kid boat searching for other kid boats. Got an invitation to visit Tiger, three kids aboard. So we spend a good chunk of the afternoon chatting with them on their beautiful catamaran. They moved onto the boat just five days ago. Very exciting to see people at the beginning of their sailing adventure.

After breakfast at the coffee shop we learned about the marine salvage shop and walked the mile or two to check it out. I walked in and had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. The place was fantastic. It had nautical bits and pieces of every description. We didn’t need anything but walked out with a spinnaker block and two cupholders anyway. (When the binoculars are in the binocular/cupholder there is insufficient space for the sunscreen and any cold fluids required for health and sanity. That significant design flaw will be rectified as soon as I get back into maintenance mode.) The spinnaker block is for the extra spinnaker halyard I’ve been scheming about for several months.

Mecca for the cheap sailor.

We stopped in a canvas shop to see if they would have time to repair our companionway screen where it has a rip. The owner is headed out on a cruise to the Panama Canal in three days, but says she will have the repair done tomorrow. Perfect. And she has two parrots in her shop, perfectly Florida.

Inspirational grafitti.

Cruising tip of the day: be your own captain. What I mean is, don’t let other sailors tell you where or how to anchor, don’t let them tell you when the weather will be good or bad, don’t let them scare you out of your wits or lull you into complacency. We have learned to take the information we get from other sailors with a big grain of salt. We say everyone is following their own mission profile, and their mission might not match ours.

This afternoon we were in the lounge (Moss and I were working on math in air-conditioned comfort) when we overheard some catamaran owners panicking about a bridge closure further south, deciding they had to make multi-day offshore passages to get around the bridge. They said it would only open every three hours, that there was no safe anchorage north of the bridge where sailboats could wait, that boats had to radio an hour in advance to request an opening, that the only nearby anchorage was unusable because it was filled with dredging barges.

Ellen called the bridge and was told by the bridge operator that the bridge opens every half hour as needed from 7am to 7pm. The maintenance is taking place at night. There is no need to call ahead. There is no need to panic.

When I was a teacher at an orthodox yeshiva, I used to ask the rabbis there all sorts of theological questions. (That place had as many rabbis as the ICW has dolphins.) One day one of the rabbis found out I was asking different kinds of questions of different rabbis. He explained that tradition says you are supposed to choose one rabbi for all your questions, that way you don’t get to shop around until you get the answer you want.

Ellen and I have taken that concept and turned it into the mantra: pick your rabbi. What we mean is, don’t get your advice from just anyone, choose your sources carefully.

Little project

So one thing I have been working on is modifying the flexible solar panel mounting system. The way the panels are mounted now isn’t ideal. They are attached to the soft canvas of the bimini top with nylon nuts and bolts. The issue is that the panels flex when the wind blows, and I don’t think the flexing is doing the panels any good.

The plan is to attach aluminum strips to the bimini frame and then attach the panels to the aluminum. That way when the wind blows, the panels won’t flex. So far I have cut the aluminum and drilled one hole. Seven more to go. Drilling that stainless is a tricky business.

Updates to follow.

Oh, we are in St. Augustine and have finally met some kid boats. Moss is with two peers and they are all playing videos games in the Municipal Marina laundry room/lounge. It was really funny watching Moss trying to talk to a kid face to face for the first time in months.

Florida!

First of all, we have almost used up our WiFi allotment for the month and are about to get throttled by the cell provider. So no pictures until we get some free wifi. Sorry. Think about how tough we have it: the billing cycle isn’t up until the 19th! Even more dire: we are nearly finished with the November bourbon bottle. 

Halloween was a piece of masterful parenting and organizing by Ellen. Using bits and pieces we salvaged from the hurricane debris at the marina in North Carolina, Moss dressed as a super-cute, super-clever highway cone. We spent the day at a marina near Brunswick, Georgia (cleaning, watering, showering, dieseling, WiFi-ing, grocery shopping, laundering) and then took an Uber to Brunswick for their downtown Halloween celebration.

The event was called “Trunk or Treat” and dozens of cars were lined up on the street with trunks decorated, giving out candy and playing games (bean bag toss, etc.) The sponsors were all churches and boy do Georgians love their Jesus. Moss was nervous talking to these Georgians because she said she had a hard time understanding the accent and often had no idea what they all were saying. But candy is the universal language. We ended up quitting the trick-or-treating before we had walked the entire street because Moss found her candy bucket filled to the rim and figured that was plenty. 

After begging in the street, we went to a pizza place for dinner. Our poor waitress was without a doubt the hardest working server we can recall seeing. We all commiserated on behalf of all the schoolteachers who had to deal with the sugared-up kids the next day. Now that is frightening.

On November 1 we headed south once more, across St. Andrews Sound. The day was blustery and rainy, the route was twisty and beset with shoals (which is always disconcerting when the water is brown and the waterway is miles wide but the chart says it’s only a foot or two deep in spots). We anchored in a marsh river at the northern end of Cumberland Island in a thunderstorm. 

In the morning we sailed and motored the 13 miles down to the anchorage at the ranger station for Cumberland Island National Seashore. On the way we passed a Navy submarine base and saw a big sub just tied up to a dock. Crazy.

We went ashore on Cumberland and walked across the island to the ocean side. Our efforts were rewarded with one of the loveliest beaches we have seen anywhere. The sand was sugary fine, the beach stretched for miles and miles. Our walk took us south along the beach and we saw lots of big dead horseshoe crabs, very little plastic trash, plenty of shore birds, sand, and horse poop. 

Cutting back across the island, we checked out the ruins of a mansion built by one of the Carnegies, a cemetery where the servants were buried in a plot separate from their employers (even in death, gotta maintain class divides), lots of deer, and the famous wild horses.

Here’s the thing with wild horses: they do pretty much the same things as tame horses. They stand around swishing their tails, eating grass, pooping. That’s it. There was no stampeding, no rearing onto hindquarters, no whinnying even. Don’t get me wrong, we were thrilled to see the horses. We were even thrilled to see the massive piles of droppings wild horses leave everywhere they go. But we were not as thrilled as we would have been if there had been just a bit more thundering of hooves.

Wild horses.

On the way back to the dock Moss decided we should skip the route that took us through the woods (beautiful Live Oak, Spanish Moss, etc.) and skip the route that took us along the edge of the marsh by the river. Instead we jumped down to the beach on the river and spent a very fun hour or so clambering over big driftwood branches and logs and live trees that crisscrossed the beach. Because it was high tide, we had less beach to work with, that’s why all the scrambling. We were all most concerned about ticks (found none on us) and then slightly less concerned about meeting alligators (we found none). 

Bushwhacking on the beach

Although Moss completed the Cumberland Island junior ranger program, the rangers had all clocked out for the day by the time we emerged from the underbrush at the ranger station. 

Today we headed out the St. Mary’s Inlet for a little ocean sail down to Jacksonville Beach, Florida. The water at the mouth of the inlet this morning was without a doubt the roughest we have ever sailed. Fortunately, we had the tide with us so we moved pretty swiftly through the big, confused seas. Even more fortunately, Cupcake is a sturdy sturdy girl and managed the turmoil without the slightest problem. At the helm, I was completely confident, but with waves breaking over the bow (bigger, stronger waves than we saw off Atlantic City and in Buzzards Bay) Ellen and Moss were a little apprehensive. Soon after clearing the inlet, the seas settled and we had a pleasant enough ride down to the next inlet where things were significantly calmer.

The really exciting part of the day came when we buried the bow of the boat in a wave and as the water rushed down the side deck, some kind of big fish got scooped up onto the boat with it. At first I thought it was a big pelican that somehow ended up on deck, then I saw what had to be a 20 pound fish flopping like mad trying to escape. Ellen and Moss didn’t get to see it before it launched itself back in to the briny deep, but they heard that frightened fish flailing and pounding away on the fiberglas as it made good its escape. I don’t know what kind of fish we caught, but I do know where the expression “fish-belly white” comes from. This creature had a white belly and a greenish not-belly. Seemed like it could have been a flounder, but I know fewer kinds of fish than I do birds, plants, or constellations.

The second-most exciting part of the day was when we touched bottom making our way to the ICW from the inlet. We were in an area where Ellen estimates there were 91 channel markers. We were following the markers. We nevertheless caressed the bottom of the channel. Moss wanted to know the difference between touching bottom and running aground. Running aground involves more cursing and more time not moving.

Cumberland Island sunset

Happy Halloween

Lovely Georgia home.

Tomorrow is the day our insurance company unties our leash. We are free to go south of Cumberland Island and light out for Miami (and then the Bahamas).

In the meantime, we passed another peaceful, interesting, relaxing few days working our way down the ICW in Georgia. We are glad we did not follow the advice of so many people who say the marshes of Georgia are interminable, unpleasant, boring. The marshes are providing some of the most pleasant sailing we have seen.

On Sunday we sailed about 21 of the 25 miles Ellen mapped out for our day. As has been the case for the past few weeks, the wind is favorable and the sun is bright. The marshes don’t block our breeze, but the waters of the creeks and rivers are smooth and make for easy progress and extremely relaxing sailing. We occasionally find ourselves fighting a fierce current, but because we are in no hurry, if we are poking along at just 3 knots, we don’t really care. Invariably, the current will turn (we can’t seem to predict which way a creek flows on ebb or flood, some will switch mid-stream if they are joined by a tributary) and we are suddenly zipping along at 7 knots. Yahoo!

We are finally starting to see other southbound sailors. Earlier in the week when we were anchored up one of the many Cedar Creeks, a trio of sailboats anchored on top of each other down the way. They are part of a group traveling in the company of an experienced ICW sailor who records and then shares his GPS track so others can upload it to their chart plotters and follow in his footsteps. The idea is that if the expert makes it through the shallow parts of the day without trouble, others will be able to also. We get it, but we don’t really see either the need or the desire. Part of the fun is figuring all this out for ourselves. And really, if we three idiots can do it, anybody can.

It’s not the size of the fort that matters, it’s the number of guns.

When we anchored for the evening at Fort Frederica on St. Simons Island, it was a little side trip from the ICW. The five sailboats that passed us during the day (all under motor, none with sails up) also passed what turned out to be a true gem of an anchorage and a treat of a shore visit. We liked it so much we stayed in the placid, lovely anchorage for two nights. Our neighbors are bald eagles, shore birds, and an old stone fort.

Fort Frederica was the one of the southernmost British forts on the east coast during the Colonial period, and it was built to keep the Spanish in Florida from coming north and threatening Britain’s cities Savannah and Charleston. The fort was not particularly massive, but it didn’t need to be because for a ship to get close enough to fire on the fort, it would first have to make its way over a mile of twisting river being raked by cannon fire from shore.

Cupcake would be riddled with cannon holes before she had a chance to get her guns to bear.

The park even had this super water fountain for dogs. Or cats.

In addition to the garrison at Fort Frederica there was a town of about 800 people within the walls. The general at the fort was a bit of a martinet and settlers decamped to Savannah and Charleston pretty regularly. There were some skirmishes over the course of the fort’s two-decade history. General Ogilthorpe went down to St. Augustine and fired cannons at the fort for a few weeks with no effect whatsoever. Then the Spanish made a foray up the coast, burning British settlements and outposts along the way. Ogilthorpe stopped the Spanish at Frederica but was later court marshaled.

After the British and the Spanish made peace, the garrison was pulled out of Georgia and the town declined rapidly and was pretty much a ghost town within a decade or two.

This is the view up Broad Street, Frederick, Georgia.

Ok, so this is going to sound like something I made up, but it is not. I asked Moss about this Playmobil cat she has in her room. She explained to me it is trans-species and identifies as a dog. I wonder what Trump has to say about which water fountain it can use at the National park.

Private Moss Handelman

We toured the ruins, following the excellent Junior Ranger program the National Park Service put together. Moss worked hard and we all learned a great deal about life in a colonial backwater in Georgia. 

In Georgia, a common colonial building material was called “tabby.” It was made by mixing oyster shells, lime, and sand.

Another thing we learned is that Spanish Moss (Tillandsia usneoides), an epiphyte (non-parasitic plants that grow on other plants but derive their nutrients and moisture from the air), is lovely but is home to all sorts of nasty critters. Creatures like ticks, mites, millipedes, spiders, rat snakes, and bats hang out in Spanish Moss. The colonists often used Spanish Moss to stuff their mattresses. I’m getting the itchy heebie-jeebies just typing this paragraph.

One of the old cheek blocks.

Sailboat maintenance update: I went up the mast to replace two damaged cheek blocks that we use for our lazy jacks. (Landlubbers: a cheek block is a pulley that bolts to a flat surface. Lazy jacks are a web of ropes we use to keep the mainsail from spilling all over the deck when we lower it at the end of the day.) The task involved screwdrivers, vice grips, drill bits, and a rivet gun. All this while suspended in the air. This is one of my favorite things about sailing – problem solving and boat repairs.

After the cheek blocks, the next job was to reset the wifi antenna at the top of the mast. The antenna stopped working when we were in Charleston and hitting the reset button 53’ above the water was my last-chance attempt to resolve the issue. Seems to have done the trick.

New cheek block. It’s not a pretty installation, but who’s going to see it (besides the thousands of blog-watchers)?

Captain Ellen on deck.

That’s my shadow there at the very top of the mast.

Finally, we have a 56’ bridge we need to go under in Florida but until this week, had no idea exactly how high our mast stands. Careful work with a tape measure reveals that the top of the windex (wind indicator) and wifi antenna are 53.5’ above the water. Our VHF antenna stands another foot or two higher but is flexible. So we know we can make it under the Julia Tuttle Causeway Bridge. That comforting piece of information means we can get Cupcake to Aunt Kathy and Uncle Larry’s dock when we are in Miami. Warn the neighbors: here we come.

At least 33% of the crew is buzzing with excitement about Halloween. She will be dressed as a highway cone. We’ve stopped for the night at a marina near Brunswick, Georgia so Moss can go door to door begging for chocolate.

An unknown colonist buried in an unmarked tomb in a Georgia ghost town.

“Hey Moss, move just a bit to your left…”

Palmetto trunk.

New policy aboard Cupcake.

We see lots of marsh grass, so you get to see it as well.

Marsh view.

Another marsh view for your enjoyment.

Sailing the marsh river.

Palmetto AND marsh grass.

Sometimes we are reminded that the ICW is also used by commercial vessels.

I tried to line up Cupcake so Moss looked like a unicorn but without my old-man reading glasses I couldn’t manage.

And what would a blog post be without a selfie from Ellie?