This log runs through April 9, 2002

February 28, 2002 in Stuart, Florida
What's with this Florida weather? The wind has been blowing like crazy and last night the temperature was in the 30's! It'll be colder tonight. Someone remind us what the draw of this state might be!

March 2, 2002 in Stuart
There are thousands of lessons to learn about sailboats. An important one: don't let sea water into your boat! Another lesson: you will spend half your life upside down in the bilge digging out parts, such as exhaust elbows, which have broken. Finding and replacing them keeps one's boat afloat.

We're still in Stuart, waiting for the weather to improve before moving up the east coast. Bringing our bikes may not have been that good an idea. They make our deck look like a gypsy wagon.

Flashback: We forgot to mention our astonishment over having driven our Denali (the Gypsy Wagon the 2,675 miles from Oceanside, CA to Boca Raton, FL -- and not having seen a single cloud the entire way! Not one. What are the chances of that??

March 5, 2002 Leaving Stuart, Florida
We're bugging out today, heading north. First destination, Ft. Pearce. It's difficult storing the car and totally committing to the life afloat.

March 9, 2002 on the hook in Titusville (pronounced Tight'-us-ville)
We finally left Stuart! After meeting a delightful couple, Alan and Tracy, who had worked in Saudi Arabia and are now off exploring the world via sailboat, as are we, made our first bridge transits in sequence and headed for the ICW. Becoming grounded only briefly at a notorious point, we made it to Fort Pearce, where we celebrated our first anchorage with Jim and Gini, from California, who own a Cabo Rico just like ours except four feet shorter.

In the morning we awoke to solitude -- and fishermen -- before arriving in the late afternoon in Melbourne. Unfortunately, there are no photos, but before sunset there was thunder in the sky as a Titan Rocket blasted into space from Cape Canaveral, just north of us.

Another airborne event, which happened too fast to photograph, was the low pass of two Air Force B1-B Bombers -- an amazing site.

Moving slowly enough for us to capture in print were all manner of vessels passing us on the ICW -- such as this tug and barge, and even a cruise ship!

The photo on the right depicts one of the 85 bridges on the ICW between Miami and Norfolk, Virginia.

A Titusville, where we are anchored outside the marina (for free!), we discovered a sign explaining why it's not a good idea to swim in the local pond (Alligators).

We are still learning the boat -- but fast. Every day we make new discoveries about how new floating home, and while traveling the ICW isn't fighting big storms in mid-ocean or arriving at a south seas island, all things in good time.

March 12-14, 2002 Titusville to St. Augustine, Florida
We're settling into a new and wonderful lifestyle. Dinners aboard are superior to crowded, noisy restaurants. Lounging on deck is very relaxing. And motoring up the ICW is fascinating.

Awakened before dawn by the crack of a descending Shuttle approaching Cape Canaveral, we departed Titusville at sunrise, passing through the railroad bridge that supplies the Kennedy Space Center, and a few miles later a bridge providing entrance to a fabulous nature preserve.

While bridges open beautiful new vistas, there are clear signs that things can go badly. Sunken boats reminded us to stay in the narrow channel.

Our plans changed yesterday when not one but four anchorages proved unsuitable (poor holding, exposure to strong winds, too small an area). Holding our breath we passed safely by the nasty Matanzas ocean inlet at dead low tide and winds gusting to 22 kts as we raced to arrive in St. Augustine before sunset.

In a strong tidal current, we knifed under a bridge twenty miles from our destination and continued until the beautiful Bridge of Lions was finally in sight. Our timing was perfect for its 6:00 pm opening and in minutes we were anchored (for free!) in a beautiful spot near the famous Castillo de San Marcos. A drink at sunset on the deck of your own oceangoing sailboat. What could be better?

In the week since we left Stuart, where we bought our boat, we haven't paid a cent for a place to stay. Good thing. We're about to have some very expensive modifications and upgrades done to the boat.

March 15 in Saint Augustine, Florida (Photo: Bridge of Lions and anchorage).
We bought a "knockoff" of a 45 LB "CQR" anchor, saving several hundred dollars. We found that while the 33 LB Delta anchor is good, the larger anchor will see us sleeping better when the wind blows. Interesting that a 45 LB anchor can keep a 24,000 LB boat from blowing away in a strong wind -- hopefully!

Next week we'll take the boat to a facility where "davits" will be installed. They are arms that reach out from the back of the boat to lift the dinghy out of the water -- or to drag someone who has fallen overboard back onto the boat.

March 16, under attack in Saint Augustine
This quaint town has a dandy marina, and for $25 a week sailors who are anchored for free nearby can use the shore facilities. Aaah, hot showers! But you never know what will happen in the harbor. This afternoon a schooner loaded with pirates arrived, firing their cannons at everything in sight -- especially the old Spanish fort -- and generally having a merry old time. Boy, this town takes its history seriously! Tomorrow we'll see what they do about St. Patrick's Day.

March 21, 2002, heading to Camachee Boat Yard
This morning we're heading to a boat yard to have "davits" installed. They are arms that reach out behind the boat, each with a block and tackle we'll use to hoist the dinghy out of the water on travel days, rather than trailing it behind us. There are SO many little (but expensive) things to take care of.

March 25, 2002 in St. Augustine, Florida
One thing about a boat: you never have time to get bored. We took PIONEER to a boat yard to have our noisy, irritating and mostly worthless wind generator uninstalled and to get help from a great guy named Bruce installing "davits" (arms that reach out behind the boat, upon which the dinghy can be lifted out of the water). That will deter thieves, reduce barnacle growth on the dinghy, and make ICW travel more convenient than dragging the dinghy behind PIONEER.

Back at anchor, we watched in fear as storm driven waves threatened to chafe through our anchor line and send our boat crashing into a concrete wall. Hence, another project: devising chafe protection from an old fire hose. It isn't elegant, but it works!

March 27, 2002 our last day in St. Augustine
If there is one thing that causes stress in a crowded anchorage, it's a boat getting loose from its anchor and careening around the anchorage while the terrorized owners of other boats try to avoid being rammed.

Case in point: this morning we used our dinghy to help push a 38-foot Catalina named Our Joy away from another boat. The drama continued until law enforcement arrived on the scene to capture it. Of course, slapping cuffs on a ten ton sailboat didn't prove easy, and when we left the scene the officers were still trying to figure out what to do with their captive. Later update: they took it away. When last we saw it, it was being towed upriver by the police. It'll be an interesting scene when the owners hop in their dinghy and head off for the spot they last left their sailboat.

Someone stole Don's mountain bike from the bike rack in front of the St. Augustine city marina. Naturally, the insurance company discourages us from turning in a claim, advising that if we start having claims for them, they'll start having problems retaining us as customers. This is the kind of logic we're trying to avoid in this new lifestyle.

March 30, 2002 in southern Georgia
What a fascinating few days! Our last night in St. Augustine not only featured a full moon rising in the late evening, we saw the same moon setting the next morning as we departed at 6:00 am. We really like St. Augustine -- although sailors should make an effort to avoid the business "Sails, Etc."

On the ICW we passed natural areas on one side, and beautiful homes on the other, and had a great time -- until we hit something. Approaching the St. Johns River, all hell broke loose. There was a loud bang somewhere in the boat, sounding like someone dropped a bowling ball from five feet.

Immediately the boat pulled hard to the right. At the same time the current was fast and turbulent on a falling tide. We scrambled, looking for signs that water was coming in. About that time some total jerk driving a huge powerboat went by so fast he nearly swamped us. Recovering from that, we entered the river and came face to face with a huge tanker!

You can imagine our state as we avoided the tanker and made it across the ocean inlet against the tide at less than two knots, and then beneath a draw bridge as the bridge tender grew impatient with our slow progress.

We knew something was wrong with the boat, but there was nowhere to stop. We had lost speed, and there was a pronounced vibration. We asked boats overtaking us to look at our boat for signs of an impact, but they saw nothing.

We finally came to a creek in a swamp where we could drop anchor and check things out. Don, tied to a safety rope, jumped into the water and explored the boat's bottom, finding no problems and managing to scrape up his hands on the barnacles. Late that night Don awoke suddenly from a deep sleep, having realized that these waters contain alligators!

In Fernandina Beach we immediately ran into friends on three other boats, leading to a great happy hour on our boat. One note about the Fernandina Marina: don't rent a slip there unless you want your boat sitting in the mud most of the time. Only a maniac would design a marina like this one!

As of today, we have logged 335 miles on the ICW since Stuart, Florida -- all great fun tempered by our continual fear of going aground. Often the bottom of our boat is only a foot or two above the channel bottom.

Fuel note: we are burning less than one gallon of diesel per hour at 2,000 rpm, this adventure began is now 154 miles per day, it is dropping rapidly (see stats).

April 3, 2002 near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina
ICW treats: dropping anchor in a river for the night and immediately being invited over for dinner by the folks on the only other boat anchored there, the Lisa Morgan.

ICW savings: Tourists typically pay a fortune to visit Georgia's Hilton Head Island. Not us. We just pull up and drop the hook.

April 5, 2002 just south of Charlotte, South Carolina
Laundry. Nothing makes a boat look like a gypsy wagon more than drying laundry enroute. The other day we thought people on shore were especially friendly -- only to realize later that Becky's unmentionables were drying on the lifelines.

Yesterday we caught every tide running our way. Today we're bucking strong north winds, cold temperatures -- and if we don't time our departure well this morning, we'll be motoring 5.5 kts against a 6 KT current in a narrow channel!

Waiting for the right moment to depart, we've been changing engine oil and maintaining systems. Not as glamorous as sailing the islands, it's a real part of this lifestyle.

For the first time in the six weeks we've lived aboard we're paying to stay at a marina. The vicious currents and winds here left no choice. Becky was all excited about a hot shower and just returned, irritated, to report that the women's shower room is not open for business! Oh well, onward we go into the nasty cold wind.

April 9, 2002 in Swansboro, North Carolina (Photo of Pioneer taken later).
This ICW is fascinating. We came across its only pontoon bridge, and have waiting for innumerable draw bridges, and in North Carolina the Marines roared past just before we saw missiles blasting into the sky. There are wonderful anchorages and quite moments. But while traveling along, one is always thinking about running around, which would be very easy to do.

Don used to say that flying an airplane consisted of hours of boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror. On the ICW, the terror can last for hours, particularly on a low tide -- and especially at a place called Elliot's Cut south of Charleston, SC. The place looks innocent, but if you enter at the wrong time you can end up in a 6 KT current, which is exactly what we're capable of motoring. That wouldn't be good!

We're only 50 miles from Oriental, North Carolina, where we'll leave the boat, spending a fortune on service, additions and modifications. While that's being done, we'll find a way to get to Florida to pick up our car. What a wonderful life.

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