Wherever You Go... There You Are.

Ok. I'm going to begin by just admitting right off the bat that the recent lag in Casual updates is not really a result of the time and internet limitations that normally delay our communication. The delay is mostly the product of my inability to wrap my mind around the events of the past ten days or so, which have covered such an outrageously broad spectrum of successes and failures that I've been rather at a loss as to how to disseminate the facts of our situation (which, as is absolutely freakin' typical of life, are nearly all vague and indescernable, or at least insufficient to really tell the whole story). But, no excuses - after all, I'm a blue water sailor now, and we blue water sailors don't mess around (or at least that's what I've been told...).

And speaking of blue water sailing, before I give the current low-down, I might as well backtrack a bit and give the highlights of last week (also known as The Week When Charlie and I Crushed All of Georgia Without Even Blinking). We left St. Augustine on the morning of April 24th feeling bold, brave, and highly motivated to get underway (I suspect the combined influence of genuine seafaring spirit, and the incredibly loud outdoor sunrise Easter service to which we awoke around 6:00 that morning). We had anchored on the northern side of the drawbridge, and had a bit of an awkward time requesting two successive openings of the bridge so that we could hit the fuel dock on the south side, and then take off heading north immediately afterward... but I've learned that you can't let cranky drawbridge operators dampen your spirits. After all, as far as I can tell all they have to do all day long is eat cheetos and watch t.v. in their towers, and open up a bridge every now and then. If they can't handle opening the bridge twice without a nice long cheetos break in between, that's on them.

We cleared the bridge and motored our way out to the St. Augustine inlet, feeling the perfect south-easterly breeze beginning to collect itself just as we hit the mouth of the ocean around 9:00 a.m., so as soon as we were clear of the shipping channel we shut down the motor (which, by way of foreshadowing, I will begin referring to as my Worst Enemy) and hauled up the sails. The sound of waves against the hull has become one of my favorite sensory enjoyments, and it is never sweeter than in the moment just after the noise of the motor fades out. That is, of course, until Charlie starts barking orders again...

Anyhow, we sailed out of St. Augustine with high hopes of putting in a (very) long day, and making it to St. Mary's inlet on the Florida/ Georgia border, which would mark our first progress beyond the seemingly perpetually receding confines of Florida. We could not have asked for better weather, so when we eventually sighted the flashing beacons of St. Mary's entrance channel that evening around 9:30 pm, I was steering a course due north and making 5 knots, and with the stars wheeling overhead and the boat hardly needing so much as an occasional sail trim, I felt like I could just sail on indefinitely. It is possible that I was just delirious from nearly 13 hours of sailing, but I like to think I was just inspired. When captain and crew conferred briefly, the spirit of audacity was found to be unanimous, so we decided to skip St. Mary's and continue sailing overnight to the next good inlet at St. Simon, GA. We entered our decision into the log at 10:00 pm, and sailed on.

The next entry to the Ubiquitous log book is from 4:05 a.m., and reads: "Wind dead. Sweet towboat action behind us in the channel at St. Simon inlet. Fingers crossed for wind returning soon!" Fortunately, we were soon rewarded for our vigilance, and 58 miles and several cups of very strong Cafe Bustelo coffee later, we were dropping afternoon anchor in the astonishingly beautiful St. Catherine's Sound inlet, having successfully completed our first two-man overnight on the ocean.

Catching up

Allright- we have a good power connection and the internet, so it's time to catch up on everything since we left Scott and Jenette's for the last time.  We had an uneventful few days motoring up the ICW to West Palm Beach.  Mostly, we cruised past a lot of mansions, and went under a lot of drawbridges.  As we pulled into our anchorage in West Palm (this would be last Thursday), the alternator fell out. Again.  This time, one of the bolts that held the shiny new mounting bracket in place had sheared inside the engine block.  I messed with it for a while, but eventually realized it needed some professional help, so on Friday morning we moved the boat into a slip at the Riviera Beach Municipal Marina.  We actually pulled off the bold move of sailing into the slip, because although I had the alternator jury-rigged, I really didn't want to start up the motor. 
At the marina, their on-site mechanic Jimmy came to take a look at the alternator: 

As it turned out, we really lucked out by going into the marina where Jimmy works.  Because the way the alternator had been supported was too weak, he "Canadian-rigged" (his description, minus several additional epithets that have no place in a classy blog) a new mounting system, which involved drilling out the sheared bolt, welding a new bracket that supports the alternator, and installing the whole thing.  And, while he was at it, rewiring the electrical output from the alternator, and helping me fix one of the starter motor cables that had also broken.  Then he cut us a huge break on the price.  So thank you, Jimmy Goulet.
One positive consequence of getting delayed in Palm Beach was that it made the timing work out for my dad, a most experienced sailor, to fly down from Maryland for a few days.  The engine was finished on Saturday afternoon, and he flew in Sunday evening, so on Sunday morning Erica and I dinghied over to Peanut Island, which is directly across the channel from the marina.  Interesting side story- when I was in West Palm several years ago helping deliver a boat, we stayed a night at this same Riviera Beach marina.  I was helping the owner get the boat re-commisioned from winter storage, so I spent the whole weekend working my butt off and gazing enviously over at all the boats pulled up on Peanut Island and all the people swimming and fishing.  So finally, years later, I got my chance to go there.  It was pretty nice:

My dad arrived on Sunday night, we got everything ready to go, and Monday morning bright and early we sailed out of the inlet onto the wocean. 

Goodbye West Palm

Hello Wocean

 The weather was beautiful- they were calling for an East breeze at 10-15kts for the next week straight, so we were hoping to (and did) cover a lot of ground.  It was a bit much for Erica, so she had to take a nap:

But when she woke up, she steered and navigated quite well.

Note the bimini

The young navigator

 Monday night we stopped in Fort Pierce.  Reveille at the fort woke us up around 6, and we took off again.  This time we stayed out overnight, rounding Cape Canaveral, and heading up to the Ponce de Leon inlet, just south of Daytona Beach.  Sailing at night was excellent- we saw two cruise ships leaving Canaveral, and that was it for other traffic the whole night.  The enormous almost full moon came up around 10 so we had plenty of light. The wind started dying around 2, and by 6 we reluctantly started the engine, but it picked up again the next morning and we kept on our way. 

The ocean blue

 We spotted many dolphins and a gigantic sea turtle- we threw him some bread, but he wasn't really interested.  All in all, the weather cooperated perfectly, and we had a really good time. 
We anchored out on Wednesday night, and cruised into a marina on Thursday morning.  As we were coming in, we had two funny experiences.  First, we ran aground right outside their entrance channel.  Turns out, their huge sign advertising the marina completely obscured the green daymark we should have rounded.  I think Erica might be right that marinas are in cahoots with the towing companies.  We ungrounded easily and started heading into the slip they had assigned us, when we got the call on the radio:  "Sailing vessel Ambiguous, repeat Ambiguous, yeahhh, we're gonna need to re-assign your slip... it appears that a large manatee is blocking the channel to the first one we gave you."
It was tough to say goodbye to my father when he had to leave on Friday, but it was really great having him there, both for the company and his wealth of sailing experience. 

C & D

C & E

All on our lonesome, Erica and I left the marina on Friday afternoon.  We had the wind with us, so we were able to sail up the channel, much to the envy of the other boaters.

Wing and Wing!

This morning we cruised past some really nice looking empty islands and beaches on our way in to St. Augustine. 

We got a mooring ball at the municipal marina, and dinghied our way in to explore the town. 

Erica and City Hall

 

 

Ubiquitous is second from right

Charlie at the fort

One special note for Patrick and Catherine- someone has beaten us to it- St. Augustine eco-tours were all over town. 

So that's it.  We're moving on tomorrow with the tide (as a wise man once said, "smoke 'em when you got 'em).  St. Augustine is lovely- it's just like Annapolis, except bigger and with a fort. 

A short blog

We're in Daytona.  My father flew in and joined us in West Palm, so we have been flying up the coast for the past few days.  We had motored from Miami to West Palm, and after surviving some engine repairs, we went outside to Fort Pierce on Monday.  Then we did an overnight offshore from Ft. Pierce all the way around "The Cape" (Canaveral) to Daytona, where we pulled into a marina yesterday morning.  Unfortunately my dad had to get back to school, so he flew out this morning, but it was great to have the extra hands.  We covered a ton of ground and finished some much needed projects.   We have lots of photos and tales of adventure, alternators, and manatees, but they'll have to wait until we have more reliable internet- hopefully in St Augustine tomorrow night.  All's well, and now Erica is a real bluewater sailor.

Wait, what?

Wait, what?

Apparently Erica is more of a color commentator, so I'll give the play by play.  After leaving Key Largo, we sailed south to Islamorada.  As we were coming in, we noticed that the water was a really unusual color- one we hadn't really seen before.  You can see it in this picture, the greyish-blue water closest to the boat:

The shallows

As you might have already figured out, the water looks like that because there is sand near the surface, which is to say that it was really shallow, and we started bumping along the bottom.  What made it especially frustrating is that we were right in the middle of the channel (where it is supposed to be at least 6 feet deep), and outside the channel you could actually see the sand above the water, so there was no dodging the shoal that way.  We just slowed down and bumped along, aimed for the slightly darker patches, and eventually made it in.

After a pleasant night and morning walking around Islamorada, we looked at the chart and realized that we are more than a thousand miles from Maryland, and we should probably start heading for home.  So we turned around and started cruising back towards Miami.  We had to stop for a while because a storm was moving through:

Storm's a'comin

And a'goin

When we arrived at our anchorage for the night in Buttonwood Sound, as I opened up the engine to shut it down for the night, the alternator fell out (no big deal).  At some point the tensioner bracket, which holds the top of the alternator in place, had sheared and left the alternator flapping in the breeze.  As far as engine problems go, this was not so bad because it was a structural part so it seemed like it would be easy to replace.  We jury-rigged it with some pieces of metal and duct tape, and managed to motor back to Key Largo, where there is easy shore access and some stores nearby.  Calling West Marine and other marine stores proved to be useless, because their only approach is to find out what kind of engine you have and order the manufacturer's part.  Problem is, our engine is a brand that is made in Denmark, and this part most likely wasn't original to begin with, so paying $80 for a part that won't arrive for a week and probably won't fit didn't seem to be worth it.  Instead, we walked a long 2 1/2 miles down to the auto parts store, where they were helpful over the phone and told us that they had a universal marine alternator bracket.  It turned out to be tantalizingly close- the right size, but a mirror image of what we needed.  That's when the helpful redneck behind the counter pulled out a car alternator bracket that looked just like what we had, except too long and chrome plated.  He told us that since his boss was gone he could use the drill press, so we could put new mounting holes in it as long as we bought a new drill bit.  We hoofed it back to the boat to measure the length exactly, then back again to the store the next morning.  We got to go in the back of the store, much to the concern of all the other employees, and we got our new bracket made up.  Back to the boat one more time, and it fit pretty well.  At some point we should replace it with a proper marine part, but this one only cost about $20, and it will certainly last for a good long while.  You can see it here; it's the one that is shiny and holding up the spinning alternator: 

That's a Vetus

Back in business, we kept pressing North.  Just before we left Key Largo, we got a visit from Don and Mango, who lived on the neighboring boat.  Don apparently has a tie-dye business (if that's a real thing?) because he gave us tie-dye t-shirts with his business card tucked inside.  Mango is a parrot, who climbed onboard our boat and started biting everything he saw.  It was a pretty weird time, but a nice gesture.  And we will definitely be wearing our sweet t-shirts, once we wash them to be sure they aren't laced with LSD.


We sailed from Key Largo back to Elliot Key, which was beautiful and slightly crowded.  We had one funny experience on the way- it was very calm in the morning, but the wind picked up in the afternoon so we put up the sails.  When we shut down the motor, it kept vibrating, as though it was still on.  I had heard of a "runaway engine", where enough oil leaks that even when you turn it off the engine keeps running on the leaked oil, so I was worried that maybe it was that.  But, it wasn't actually turning over, it was just vibrating.  Then, I realized what it was and confirmed it by looking under the cockpit.  It was the propeller spinning because we were sailing so fast (fast enough, anyway).  It turns out that you may or may not want to let the prop spin that way while sailing, but at least there isn't anything wrong with the engine.  And our boat sails pretty fast.  We were cruising at around 5 knots, and it felt smooth and easy.  Yesterday we broke out the genoa, so next time we get a good breeze we will really see how she does. 

The sunset in Elliot Key looked like this:

Oh yeah

Then on Sunday, we sailed into Hell.  We were coming up to Key Biscayne, just south of Miami, and we had not properly considered that it was the weekend.  There were so many boats and giant wakes that eventually we just had to stop and anchor, because even motoring through the traffic was unbearable.  We were just north of the gigantic floating boat party, which kept going until about 9:55 at night, when the police boat showed up and made the last few stragglers leave.  After that, things were peaceful and nice.  And despite the party, the sunset looked like this:

Not the same night

Today we motored (mostly) up through Miami.  Here's a drawbridge:

Going up

There is a lot of this between Fort Lauderdale and Miami, and apparently even more as you keep going north in Florida.  The trick is that all the bridges have restricted opening schedules, so they only open on the hour and half hour, or on the quarter hours.  Somehow we are always out of phase with the bridges (specifically, because we don't go very fast), so we have to wait.  On the plus side, as Erica already noted, the drawbridge tenders call you "Captain" on the radio, which is pretty sweet. 

Yo no soy marinero

We made it today to an anchorage by Florida International University, where we had to do a complicated routine to get ashore.  There are restrictions on where you can land the dinghy, so I dinghied Erica in, went back to the boat, and swam in.  The people sitting on the beach looked pretty suspicious when I came lurching out of the water, so we hightailed it away as fast as possible.  Now we are back at Scott and Jenette's for one last night of feasting and showers before we start in earnest on the long trek north. 

Wait, what?

Fresh Ballyhoo

Apparently I am not the first person to have observed this, but originality be damned, I'm going to say it anyway - the Florida Keys are WEIRD. Like, seriously weird.

To start with, everything around here is way too effortfully "kooky" and "zany." And although I can't prove it, I would be willing to bet that people here actually like using words like "kooky" and zany". After all, nothing here just has a normal name. The local bakery is Bob's Bunz (complete with extra jokes about "grabbing some bunz on your way out"), the bait is called "fresh ballyhoo," (yeah, I know that technically that's a real thing... but it shouldn't be), and the people refer to themselves as "conchs" (pronounced "konk," as in, "I trail off at the end of my sentences because I've been 'konked' on the head one too many times by the boom on my sailboat.") Apparently you're never fully dressed down here unless you've got your parrot tattoo, your excessive tan, your vacant stare, and your hot pink flip-flops on.

And, what's with all of the overweight, frequently shirtless 50-year-old men cruising around town with portable radios??!?!

Exhibit A, taken at John Pennekamp State Park in Key Largo. What the picture can't show you is the Mariachi music blasting from his portable tape deck

One particular repeat offender is the gentleman of leisure who cruises over to the public docks on his bicycle in the middle of the day, sets up his portable tape player at a picnic table, and spends about 15 minutes jamming to Pat Benetar before packing up and riding off to who-knows-where. My suspicion is that he probably rides over to the next public park down the street, where he switches over to listening to Sade, and just spends every day riding his circuit of 80s music glory until the sun goes down.

And, speaking of the goings-on at the local public dinghy dock, I have been menaced repeatedly at that very dock by a sinister flock of flamingo-looking birds that duck around the lawn at the dock-side park looking all furtive and creepy, like they're probably muttering voodoo curses under their breath. They really are shaped like mini-flamingos, standing about a foot high, and they creep up on you with weird giant steps that make them look like they move in slow-motion, and stare at you sideways while they scoot around jabbing ominously at things in the grass with their terrifying 6 inch beaks.













As a wise man once said, "I hate all birds."

Perpetrators of both varieties. As you can see,
enemies are all around. Constant vigilance is required.
(What this picture can't show you is the 80s slow jams
blasting from the portly gentleman's portable radio.)

And that's only the half of it. There's also the people who appear to be talking to the water in really jolly voices while they're fishing, and the gnarly looking old man with his bicycle basket full of plastic sacks of ice, trying to sell ice to random people while it melts out of his bike-basket, leaving a trail of potential earnings behind him as he rides along. It's like everyone here is just a few limes short of a whole pie (the actual pies around here, though, are delicious. Definitely a highlight!).

At this point, the big question for me is, if everyone else here appears to be a total fringe-dwelling lunatic, and I'm here with them, is it possible that I'm actually ONE OF THEM??!?!? I mean, I am looking pretty tan these days, and I do have several articles of clothing that could be classified as "beachwear"...Does this look like a person who belongs in Florida? You be the judge.

I'm going to go practice doing Normal Stuff for a while.

The Last Week in Pictures (a photoessay by Echo Bravo)

Here's an attempt to address the Keeping It Casual photographic lacuna with a series of images that I think captures the gist of the last ten days or so:

First, Mr. Hurst and I attempted to address the issue by means of books and a balance.

That didn't work, so we asked triple A to kindly address the problem by means of a hydraulic lift. (*To P+C: Notice the forlorn roofrack, still gleaming in all its varnished glory...)

Several days later, we were back in action again on the waters of Ft. Lauderdale!

Where our neighbors on Lake Sylvia...

Were not as psyched about my floating touchdown dance as we were.
(*To M+D: Thanks for the sweet dinghy/dancefloor!!!)

We still had some final projects to finish up on the boat, so I spliced some coax. cables for our new radio antenna,

and we hoisted Charlie up the mast in the bosun's chair to reattach one of our lazy jacks that got away that time we ran aground.... anyhow, no harm, no foul.

While we were anchored in Marine Stadium in Virginia Key, we had a glorious view of the Miami skyline as our first storm gathered overhead.

But we cruised out of there (mostly) unscathed and headed south, under sail as often as possible

And we've been Keeping it Casual in Key Largo ever since!

Here are some other casual inhabitants of the local waters, hanging out in the awesome mangroves that line the creeks between the sounds.

And here are some of the obligatory "Sunset in the Keys" pictures that every self-respecting blog should have.

Step into my office!

Over and out!

Key Largo

Key Largo!  We have had a beautiful couple of days since we left Black Point.  On Friday, we sailed basically due east to Elliott Key, where we got our first taste of the unbelievably clear water- we could see the anchor sitting in the sand.  We spent a while scraping barnacles off the rudder, which attracted a million small fish to come and swim under the boat with us and snack on the stuff we had scraped off - apparently hull growth is some sort of delicacy for fish.  Then yesterday we had a relaxing sail and motor to the southern end of Barnes' Sound just above Jewfish Creek, which is where "the Keys really begin," according to our snooty guidebook.  As the sun set we were the only boat on the whole sound. 

Today we mostly motored because we were cruising through little creeks.  The banks were all mangroves, and we saw a ton of gigantic birds, all sorts.  We anchored in Tarpon Basin and dinghyed ashore- there's some sort of community building that has a public dinghy dock.  Unfortunately, because I was in mortal fear of both running aground I opted to anchor as soon as we found a likely spot, which left us with a fairly long row into the dock.  But at least we're a solid half-mile from any other boats, who all anchored more reasonably close in.  It was a bit gnarly walking down the side of Route 1, but we made it to a tiny shopping center where we are enjoying a key lime milkshake and the internet.  We're headed back now to check on the boat, and then see what's going on at John Pennekamp Park.