December 11 13 Daytona Beach to New Smyrna and Two Lay Days There Only 16 Miles

It took only three hours with a fifteen minute delay at a bridge near our destination that opens only every twenty minutes. Cold but clear with more wind than yesterday so we used only the small jib. We passed the Ponce de Leon Inlet with its distinctive lighthouse by the sea.

There were alternate buoyed routes at two points in this short passage and we took the one officially marked as the "ICW route" which was inland from the light. The last time I was here was crewing on a northbound 74 foot motor yacht, m/v "Sea Leaf," in 2012. Then we stopped at a marina by the light before jumping out into the Atlantic for a romp up to Beaufort NC.
Today we could have gone another 32 miles to Titusville, but we broke the trip there from Daytona into two parts by stopping here because Lene heard or read that New Smyrna is a nice town.  This has emerged as our plan for the winter: We are going south in Florida slowly. We are already in Florida but have several hundred miles to get to the Dry Tortugas, which is as far as one can go in the U.S.  This involves a lot of the ICW because many of the ports are not easily accessible from the sea. The two hops from Lake Worth to Fort Lauderdale and from there to Miami Beach, will be out in the Atlantic, during good weather, because of bridges. There are so many bridges that you have to wait for in the first such hop and a fixed 56 foot bridge in the second that we just can not ever get under. And the trip in the Keys is planned as a mix of inside and outside jumps. Having stopped almost everywhere in Florida on our way south, we plan to skip a lot of these same stops on the way north by going outside. A plan that has sort of come to us and like all plans is waiting to be changed.
Anyway New Smyrna is a very nice cozy well run, friendly municipal marina with good showers but mediocre wifi.

We are at the furthest out slip, which, given how small this place is, was not a disadvantage. In fact it was an advantage because we had a clear unobstructed view of the Christmas Parade of lighted boats on Saturday night from our cockpit. About 20 boats, both power and sail, decked out in vastly colorful lights came up the ICW right past our cockpit. The photos do not do the spectacle justice.
They have a decent history museum here run by the historical society with interesting local artifacts such as the equipment used to cut "cats faces" (shallow "V" shaped slashes) on pine trees to collect the sap to make turpentine. The town got its name from the home town of the founders wife in Greece. The Marina is in the background, two blocks from the museum and between them is a 20 foot high plateau

on which is the ruins of the foundation of either the home that was shelled and burned in a naval bombardment from two US gunboats during the Civil War or a fort. The signage was more directed against vandalism than providing information. The museum has a copy (or original of an affidavit signed by a survivor, after the war, in support of a claim for reparations, asserting that no member of the family lifted arms in support of the Confederacy. I was interested in how the legal form of the affidavit has been relatively unchanged from then to today.
One thing I forgot to report from the museums in St. Augustine is that during the civil war, excluding the native Americans, the total population of Florida was less than 10,000, more than half of them slaves. But you cant believe all you learn in museums: In Fernandina I was told that the original native Americans here were a peaceable and matriarchal society; in St Augustine the story was about the chiefs and the wars between them. Because we can not talk to them directly anymore, each historian draws his or her own conclusions.
The main drag on this half of town, west of the ICW, is called Canal Street,

about six blocks long. We had dinner one night at Yellow Dog Eats on that street, which specializes in variations on pulled pawk. Saturday the street was closed for an antique and classic car show. My friend Jim would have loved the car show. Meticulously maintained and highly shined cars from the 30s through the 70s simply parked on the street, with their owners in lawn chairs nearby to answer questions. Some pride themselves on all original components while others have replaced the interior mechanicals with more powerful and efficient engines.
We took the shuttle bus that picked us up at the far end of Canal Street at Dixie Highway and took us to the beach.

The fare is $0.75 one way for a senior. After a stroll on the beach, we walked the two plus miles back through the main drag of the beach side of town, Flagler Street, and across the bridge that detained us on our passage into town.

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November 28 29 St Marys to Cumberland Island and Lay Day There 6 5 Miles

Another short passage, though made longer because Lene had to go grocery shopping again, her fourth day in a row! So we did not leave until early afternoon, when the tide was flooding into the St. Marys River, reducing our speed. Once we arrived and the anchor was securely set, some course plotting for the stops between here and Fort Lauderdale, a good dinner and we snuggled in for a night that was supposed to be even colder than the one before, but wasnt. While I played with the charts, Lene checked out Cumberland Island by trhe internet. It is a "National Seashore" administered by the National Parks Service. Im grateful to Dick and Elle for suggesting Cumberland as a great place to stop and to Lene who found the activities on the island. It is very roughly the size of Manhattan Island and we passed its beachy Atlantic coastal side while heading south for the St. Marys River inlet about a week ago. Our anchoring location was on its east coast, just off "Sea Camp", the NPS ferry dock,

Dinghy left, ILENE, right

where small boatloads of passengers come over from St. Marys, twice a day, to mingle with folks like us who come on our own bottoms.

All the tourists are also divided among those, like us, who spend a day (or less) on the island and those who bring tents, food, water etc., and camp out at its camp sites, by permit, for up to a week, $4.00 per head! The campers can be further divided between those who take campsites less than a mile from the dock, and those who carry all their stuff up to eleven miles (and back) to camp at wilderness sites.The eight folks here came as a group, took the near option and very friendly.

We were fortunate to get two open spots (another couple had not been able to make it) on a guided tour for eight people in a government van for only $12 per senior.

led by NPS agent Roy

This was a six hour tour and Roy kept talking to us throughout and answering our questions about the geology, flora, fauna, history and politics of the island and the state of Georgia.  He was a great tour guide and very knowledgeable...and isnt allowed to accept gratuities!









We saw an armadillo

and more than a dozen of the 150 wild horses who inhabit this island.

They receive no food or veterinary services but live breed and die on the island and are quite unafraid of humans. They are smaller than the jumpers and hunters I know from barns and their life expectancy is half that of domesticated horses. They and the wild boar, were introduced here by the Spanish. We also saw wild turkeys and deer, close up, but without photos.
Live oaks predominate. This one  extends further to the right than shown, and as you can see, is quite wider than it is tall. They

are not harmed by the Spanish Moss that hangs from them, except to the extent that when wet, and the moss can hold up to ren times its weight in water, can break branches off the trees.. The branches can curve down to the ground and back up again, when they grow in open cleared fields, like the one pictured. Most of them are "Second Growth"; the primeval forest having been cut down to supply curved timbers for building ships like Old Ironsides, the USS Constitution, made largely of Cumberland Island live oak.
We visited the first African Baptist Church, near the north end, a very small, one room chapel in which John John F. Kennedy Jr. was married. It was also visited by President Carter, a Georgia boy.

We stopped at Plum Orchard, a huge formal house, of about 25,000 square feet, built by the widow of Andrew Carnegies brother, for one of their sons and his wife. Completed with indoor squash court and swimming pool about 112 years ago, it reminded me a bit of Downton Abbey, in terms of the social structure and activity norms of the people who lived there.

Even larger, 37,000 square feet, was the Dungeness Mansion, built by Mrs. Carnegie for herself on the ruins of the home of the former plantation owner. Her kids decided not to maintain it after her death so only the stone and bare verticals remain.

Ms. Carnegie owned about 95 percent of the island. Sadly, those kids, who never had to go to school or do any work, generally died young, of alcohol related disorders. Roy told us there were very limited fond feelings among the children for their mother.

The island is now almost entirely owned by the government but about five percent of it is held by about 25 folks with "reservations of rights", i.e., the right to exclusive control of their land until they die. Then, one by one, the government will take over and will either restore the buildings for park or administrative uses if they have historic value or raze the structures and let the wilderness take over again. One such rights holder is Carol, who like the horses, lives off the land, at the north end, and has done so for 44 years, while becoming an expert on sea turtles.
This wall is made of "tabby" which is home made "cinder blocks" molded from burned seashells, sand and water to make a cement in which unburned sea shells are embedded in lieu of gravel to make concrete.

In the morning I went back for a walk across the island to the sea. Even with light waves, you could hear the Atlantics roar from half mile away. Long board walks to avoid disturbing the very wide dunes;

except the horses tracks show that they ignore the signs.








And then there is a very wide beach. You can barely see the three NC elementary school teachers, seated, half way back to the dunes, just slightly to the right of center.

On our way back north, we hope to explore this island by bike. We loved Cumberland.

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February 18 20 Hurricane Harbor to Belle Island Anchorage South and Two Lay Days There 8 6 Miles

Anchor and other problems.
Hurricane Harbor in Key Biscayne is well protected except from the Northwest, and that is where the wind was coming from in the morning of our departure. I went forward to remove the snubber in anticipation of hauling the anchor, and woah! we were dragging, beam to the wind, and fast -- toward the closed end of the harbor. We got out by prompt deft use of forward and reverse to swing our head around. Breakfast was deferred until after the two hour passage.

The 8.6 miles were easy, toward and past the City of Miami in an ugly cold grey wind with several periods of rain. A big sportfisher boat almost pushed us out of his way, overtaking us, as we headed for a 65 foot bridge; we slowed down to avoid him.

We anchored in the tidal "river" that was running south past the west side of Miami Beach. When we left her, ILENEs bow was thus pointed north, upstream, and was about 200 feet behind the stern of the boat anchored north of us.We actually picked up and re-dropped the anchor to find the perfect spot before taking a garbage/water/laundry run into town. I got a haircut during the wash cycle and we picked up some supplies on the way back. The tide was then flowing the other way, so our bow pointed south but our stern was only 15 feet from the bow of the boat behind us. How could this be?  He had used two anchors, one upstream and one down, to hold him stationary against the tides. Our single anchor let us move about 180 feet total, from south of the anchor to north of it. We were too close. So we picked up and tried to find another good spot. But with strong wind from the Northwest and tidal flow from the south, the boats were pointed in every direction. We thought that when we dropped back 90 feet from our anchor we would be fine but our neighbors swung too close to us --or we to them -- same difference. After several attempts, we went much further away from the more congested area and grabbed a spot off the outskirts shortly before sundown.
Our nearest neighbor to starboard was a young, Montrealer, live-aboard on a Bavaria, s/v "Paradigme 2.0".

 Nick complained vociferously about a catamaran on his starboard side which we could see was anchored, its crew absent, surging wildly back and forth almost hitting his boat. We invited him aboard for a beer but he brought his own; I guess that is the custom. He had his two Husky

rescue dogs in his dink and he told them to stay there, in French, of course. But they jumped from there to our dink and from there to our cockpit and gave our kittys a scare when they looked down into the cabin. Their tails got big and their backs arched. But no harm done. Here they are at a more placid time, on the porch; because I

have actually had a reader ask for more kitty pictures. Thanks, Kay.
The night was very windy. The wind would catch one side of the boat, heeling us as much as 20 degrees to leeward while the boat charged ahead as far as the anchor chain would permit, before turning her other side to the wind for the return trip leaning the other way. It seemed the howling wind was trying to rip out our slender tether to the earth. I checked our position frequently, instead of sleeping, but we were blessed   -- we did not drag. A wild night. In the morning, I looked out and saw a BIG problem: the dinghy was gone. Vanished. No where in sight. We called all boats and the Coast Guard responded and took a report. We called Nick who drove me in his dink through turbulent waters, over four miles, all the way to the seaward end of the breakwaters of Government Cut and back. We thought we might find the dink snagged at a waterside location, but I fear it was washed out to sea on the outgoing tide -- or stolen. Nick refused a financial recompense and offered to drive us to town but we stayed aboard the rest of the day and night to report the loss to the insurance company and the police and to shop by phone for a replacement. Like I said, days of problems. A bright side: once again we had the opportunity to experience the generosity that permeates the community of sailors.
Our guests were to arrive very late that night and Nick would have picked them up for us, but unaware of the dinghy loss they had elected to stay at a hotel the first two nights of their week here. On our second lay day here we worked in the aft cabin, transforming it from a storage locker to a guest chamber, largely by moving and arranging lots of stuff to the big lazarette in the cockpit. Then cleaning with Clorox, waxing with pledge and making the bed. Hey we run a four star joint, doncha know.
In the afternoon, we got a ride to shore with Nick and his two hounds and took him to lunch at Rosa Mexicana. Retired from the Canadian Air Force, he has a job offer selling boats in San Diego if he and his girl friend, who is currently in Canada because of a family death, can get their boat and car there. He is a very intelligent and personable young man who should do well with his extensive experience of sailing. Then we watched "Still Alice" at the Regal multiplex and did a shop at Publix before Nick, along with his friend David who is living on his own boat while trying to get work as a model,

drove us, our groceries and the two dogs home. We invited them for breakfast tomorrow after which Nick will pick up Christine and Heather at noon before we head for Coconut Grove with them.
We made arrangements to dock at the Coral Reef YC there for the next few days which gives time for the dink to be found. Jeff, of Lifeline Inflatables, is willing to defer our order and delivery until Monday, and to deliver in Coconut Grove.  So all told, except for the last lay day, these have not been the cheeriest or happiest days of this adventure but no one was physically hurt. Strong winds continued the next two nights, though not as strong as the first night. Ilenes anchor having held in higher winds, it held in the lesser and better sleep was enjoyed.

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April 17 19 Redbird Creek to Beaufort SC and Two Lay Days There 66 5 Miles

We hauled the anchor at 7:15 to get to Hell Gate about 30 to 60 minutes before high tide at 8:40, measured at a tide station only 2.5 miles from that canal. It was cold and windy -- in the wrong direction -- but we passed through Hell Gate with no less than nine feet of depth -- about six more than would have been there at low tide. We got such an early start and partial favorable tides, that we changed our destination from Bull Creek to Beaufort SC, which had been scheduled as the next days destination; we got onto a mooring, rather than their dock where we had stayed our last two times here at 5:05 pm.  Generally the tides were running to the sea from high tide near Hell Gate for six hours and then rushed upstream. The course was so circuitous and involved going upstream on some rivers and down on others that it was always a surprise to us when we entered a new segment to find out which way the tide was flowing. With 2500 rpms on the Yanmar our speed varied from 4.8 to 8.4 knots depending on the current. Maybe some Comp Sci Ph.D. could solve the riddle of when is the best time to leave from point A to go to Point B, depending on your boats speed, unadjusted for tide, and the date in the lunar cycle. But I cant game nature. I mentioned hairpin curves and here is an early part of the passage

from the pliers at the right, through Hell Gate  at the screwdriver tip, upper right, past one hairpin curve above the big washer to just above the wrench jaw at the left. Overall,  the course for this segment was about 30 degrees, or north of northeast.
The portion of the days passage before we got to and crossed the Savannah River was new to us. It took us past Thunderbolt, the boating capital of Georgia. We had heard so much about this place, so close to Savannah, including that the marina brings you a free Krispy Kreme doughnut in the morning. Here are its boatyard and marina and a big beauty. I wonder how she got in this far from the sea with her mast vastly exceeding 65 feet in height.

We also passed Paris Island and Hilton Head, both of which I mentioned during our voyage south last fall.  We tried to motor sail in the afternoon, when we got to Port Royal Sound and the Beaufort River the last 14 miles, but the wind had died down and our speed brought it to our nose.
Our stay in Beaufort was quiet. Unlike our last two visits here, we took one of the marinas moorings. We used the marinas courtesy car to spend $290 at the Publix on Ladies Island, across the river. We off loaded several days of our garbage, filled our four one gallon water bottles, met with friends, including a pot luck dinner ashore. We had planned only one lay day, but the forecast weather seemed worse on the second lay day and we like it here so we stayed.
We made a date with Carla, co-owner of another Saga 43, "Reverie", as she was driving past this town between Charleston and Brunswick. But she had a friend as a passenger who did not want to stop, so our rendezvous had to be put off until the fall when, hopefully, Carla and John, who we have not yet met in person, will be driving through New York on a day when we will be there.
We spent some time discussing whether to divide the segment from Beaufort to Charleston into two halves, as we did on the trip south, but in the end decided to go almost all the way to Charleston and anchor in the Stono River, just south of the city. This solution avoids two problems. 1. It is hard to find a berth in Charleston due to Race Week. 2.  There is a strong tide under a bridge that is closed for rush hours which we have to pass at the end of another long day, just before Charleston.
We saw a matinee of Noel Cowards "Blithe Spirit", at the USC Beaufort campus theater. We sat next to Louise and Jim, nice folks, who recommended "Narrow Dog to Indian River" by Terry Darlington, which I am recommending to Dick and Elle.

Though in a university setting, the show was put on by the local theater group and funny, a farce: during a seance with a medium a mans wife comes back as a ghost visible only to him and torments his new wife. And only $20 per ticket for good seats.
And having had dinner and breakfast at Low Country Produce, located in the former City Hall, during our trip south, we had lunch there this time. Innovative inexpensive food in a place with cloth napkins  which also retails its food; one sits among display cases and racks.
The dink is hauled and we have to get underway early tomorrow to make the 7 am opening of the Ladies Island Bridge, less than a quarter mile away, or wait until 9:00.

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January 30 31 Marathon to Key West And First Lay Day There 45 Miles

After fueling (33.25 gallons at 2640 engine hours) we cast off at 8:30 and were on a mooring north of Key West by 4 pm.  What a wonderful day of sailing. The wind was from the north and created a nearly beam reach over our starboard side, without big waves -- because the Keys blocked them.

I was impatient to put up sails, as I always am, but the Admiral wanted to put things away, have breakfast, etc. And a good thing because when we turned into the wind to put up reefed main and genoa, we were passed by s/v "Fur Ellise", a Hunter 38.

ILENE being longer, and hence faster, we made friends via VHF radio without having actually met Kevin and Mary Ellise, when we soon passed them. Under sail, our speed increased from about five knots under motor to 7.5, peaks of 8.3, under sail. Later the wind got lighter, we shook out the reef but they augmented their speed with the engine and passed us. But we caught up again when the wind picked up before we both furled sails to head north, all around the west end of Key West, to the large spacious mooring field east of Fleming Key. There we took adjacent mooring balls. During all of this passing and re-passing they took the best pictures of ILENE, underway, with full sails, she has ever had. One of these will go up on the walls at the Harlem, where, until now, we have not had a good enough photo. Which one of these two do you think is better? The first shows non-optimal sail trim, with the main not having enough "belly" in her yet.

This mooring field seems secure. We have two lines through the moorings eye, one to each side of the bow. But we are completely exposed to the northern wind which is kicking up waves around us. It is rolly.

As we approached Key West I noticed a large structure which seemed to be leaning over like the tower in Pisa, above the tree line.

When we got this close it was revealed as the stack of a cruise ship. And she came out through the channel as we came in, so we stayed out of the channel to give her room. I dont know when cruise ships started coming here but they were not here in August and September of 1965 when I was at the navy school here, learning to kill submarines.

Next day we dinked in to find the office where we paid our $18/day mooring fee and then to the dinghy dock. The office and dock are far apart and hard to find. We trekked over to the main Key West Bight where the marina in the heart of town is, to look over the slips and changed our reservation dates. There we met the folks of s/v "Into the Mystic" who we had last seen in Portsmouth VA. We also saw the schooners "Appledore" and "Hindoo", plying their excursion sail trade here. We had last seen them in 2013 in Camden, Maine and Provincetown, Mass, respectively, where they work in the summers. Lunch at Turtle Krall waterfront restaurant and a hike to the Publix preceded a taxi ride back to the dinghy dock with food. There we took wasted showers. Why wasted you might ask? Because the wind was "UP" on the way back to ILENE, kicking up waves that resulted in a pretty thorough salt water rinse.

A "discussion" took place, repeatedly, during most of the day, about whether or not to sail to the Dry Tortugas. We have given up on Cuba for this year. The new arrangement does not really relax the old rules except that the US government will not examine your paperwork very closely. In other words they invite visitors to lie. I could say that we were going for "educational" purposes, being a lifetime learner, or for "journalistic" purposes, because of the blog. But the regulations are clear that education applies to a matriculated student in an accredited school and journalism is much more formal than an amateur blog, however well written, if I do say so myself. So no Cuba this year, but what about the Tortugas?

Lene does not want to go for fear that we will face the continuation of strong wind in our face on the return passage. She also argues: "Why sail 120 miles for only a one day (two night) stay in windy conditions not ideal to the enjoyment of a tropical isle." And I have to count among my blessings the fact that my beloved is on this eight month sail with me; many wives just wont go. Dont push your luck Roger. So even though the forecast winds looked good (to me) for one day out, another day there, and the third day back, I finally figured out that Lene just didnt want to go. And a compromise miraculously appeared. Marquesa Key is only about 20 miles in the direction of the Tortugas. It is now our next destination and the furthest from home that we will go in our own boat during this trip. There is a high speed ferry which will take us to the Tortugas on a day trip. It departs at seven a.m. for the three hour trip and gets back to Key West at five p.m. Only $160 per person which includes breakfast, lunch, a guided tour of the fort and snorkeling. We are thinking to take this trip, though to me, it is just not the same as sailing there yourself. It is the same way that we visited Saba Rock in the Caribbean in 2012. So Im feeling a bit like a mountain climber who intended to scale a peak "because it was there" but has to content himself with only reaching the last camp before the dash for the summit. Life is a series of compromises and I have a lot of blessings to be thankful for. But still....

A lot has changed on Key West since 1965, with the construction of huge malls with big box stores, but some lovely older housing remains.

NOTE: We will have no internet, or phone connection during the next few days.
Here are Kevin and Mary Ellise, after our mango sweet potato pancake breakfast; sorry, I couldnt get this picture to go in at the correct space.

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March 27 29 Final Lay Day in Stuart Passage to Fort Pierce and Three Lay Days There 26 2 Miles

Lene had business to transact by phone so I dinked in alone and took the free shuttle to Westmarine to get a new dinghy painter and a new anchor snubber -- and got neither.
As to the painter, we do not tow the dink so a sturdier painter that floats (so as to not get into the boats propeller when we are in reverse) is not needed; we can simply use the one that came with the dink.
The need for a new snubber line arose because the old one was getting shorter and thinner. After being anchored for a long time during strong winds, it takes either patience with the marlinspike or just cutting off the last nine inches to undo the snubber where it is clove hitched to the anchor chain. This has happened several times and the line was getting progressively shorter. Also it was getting thinner, because of severe chafing. So time for a new one. You want this line to stretch so most of the lines we have aboard are not good for this purpose because they were made for other purposes, where you want the lines to NOT stretch. So Im looking at Westmarines selection of lines and -- wait a minute! I have an old soft stretchy nylon anchor rode. If I cut off a 25 foot length, this will work quite well with lots of line left for cutting off nine inches at a time over the next several years. But, I spent $100 on a good hardened stainless lock to prevent theft of the outboard from the dink.
Back at the dock, I installed the lock and hacked off another half foot of the tiller extender because it extended too far. The marinas bike took me the five minute ride to the local, less upscale Publix for two items Lene wanted.
Heading out back to ILENE, a terrible thing happened. In driving the dink at the dock, I bounced it off another dink into one of the concrete pilings, from which clam shells extended out like razors. WHOOSH! was the sound of the air escaping from a 1.5 inch gash, below the waterline in the port aft tube. Our almost brand new dink, wounded already! Are we destined to be cursed with dinghy problems? The dink can stay afloat with only one of its three tubes inflated, so is in no danger of sinking, but this was a most revolting development.
I hauled the dink up onto the Martinas dinghy dock and water that had entered the tube, which was quite flabby, poured out. The marina gave me a ride back to ILENE for the repair kit, sandpaper, and a pair of scissors to shape the patch into a diamond shape with rounded corners. You have to sandpaper both surfaces and mix a two part glue and apply it to the dink and the patch. I needed help in the form of tools from the marina office to open the two glue bottles. You have to use a metal or glass container to mix the two parts of the glue, hopefully in the correct nine to one proportions. the bottom of a beer can from a trash bin was the metal surface and its tab was the stirrer. I let the glue get tacky but not as long as the instructions called for, and slapped it into place as the first few drops of torrential rain hit. I let it cure for over two hours while reading in the Marinas clubhouse -- free popcorn!  Then I drove the dink back to the boat, without inflating the tube in question to full pressure. The instructions say to not pressure test the patch for 24 hours.  Well the patch did not fall off, but it has a fast "slow leak" requiring it to be pumped up each 24 hours. So we will try to have the job done by a professional in St. Augustine in a few days. My not so handy work:

The passage to Fort Pierce was not long. But with temperatures in the low 50s, a hard, cold 30 knots of apparent wind 20 degrees off the port bow made for quite a wind chill factor. (Yes, I know, I shouldnt be complaining to northern friends who have suffered a cruel winter.) But it makes us fear that we may have started north too soon. Anyway, hats, gloves and scarves were in order. Just a slog under grey skies. Not a peak sailing experience, in fact solely a motoring experience.

The Fort Pierce Municipal Marina has been redone since our charts were printed, after a hurricane took out much of the old marina. They spent a lot of money to build a series of barrier islands to prevent such damage. The new slips are almost ready for occupancy and we went to the remaining portion of the old, via a well marked but tricky new channel that is not on the charts yet. The tricky part is the current, which runs wicked strong N-S across the E-W channel. We had to go west but headed NW to "crab" through it diagonally. They put us starboard side to, on the outside "T" dock, opposite the fuel dock, so when we leave we make a "U" turn to port and our lines are set up for fueling.

The Marina is different from others in our experience in that a number of live-aboarders have cats rather than dogs. Playmates for our dynamic duo, but they grew up playing with each other, our pair get low grades in "playing well with others."

We arrived too late for the "biggest farmers market in Florida" but wandered through a large music festival on our way to the marina office: rock, blues, country, etc. Crowds were still arriving; we were serenaded that night. Normally, readers know, we explore a town and learn of its history, etc. But here we just hung out with friends. Janet and Mike, with whom we had dined on Greek food in Boca, invited us to their home for happy hour and took us to Publix on our way home the first evening there and to their home where Kathryn and Craig had come up from Boca to visit, the next. After this second happy hour we went out to the Second Street Cafe for dinner.

                          Kathryn, Craig, Lene, Roger, Mike and Janet

We hope to meet up with Janet and Mike in Oxford Maryland on our way home. Its amazing. We last saw them in Maryland in 2012 and Kathryn and Craig at her brothers wedding maybe six years ago. But put sailors together and the old bonds are re-cemented instantly-- a lot stronger than the two part glue fixing our Hypalon patch to the dink. Mike and Janet just moved into their new, large modern apartment facing east over the water on the fourth floor.

Rear view from entrance

We are amazed at how much home one can get here for such a reasonable price. If we were in the market for another home, we would be very tempted. We missed both of the distinguished visitors who were here with us: President Obama came to play golf and Jay Leno was in town for a performance with $85 and $115 tickets.

Front view, with Atlantic past the barrier island.

View to the left, with free anchoring where we will stay next time.

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December 4 9 Jacksonville to St Augustine and Five Lay Days There 46 8 Miles

Bridges made this passage a long one. JVilles Main Street Bridge had requested advance notice so I called the afternoon before our departure and requested a 7:30 am opening and was told OK. I told other boats who were planning to leave that day and all of us prepared to be underway, near the bridge, before 7:30. But one of the other boats called again in the morning to confirm and was told that they were not allowed to open between 7 and 8:30. If the tender had told me this the day before we would all have left at 7, but we had to hang on the dock for another hour plus.

We did not make it out until 8:30 and hence got a somewhat late start considering the distance. ILENE soon led the way and hoisted the small jib to supplement the engine.  But the tide was again only slightly favorable at the start, growing in speed until the right turn, south, into the ICW. There, of course, the same tide was then against us, for several hours.

The only rough spot in the ICW was at the Salamander Landing Bridge, which was high enough but narrow which channelled the tidal waters to run through it fast against us. Bridges, even modern ones on concrete pillars, tend to block the wind somewhat, thereby reducing the efficiency of the sail. But the biggest cause of the sudden drop of speed from 4.8 to 1 knot in a tight swirly spot was the force of the water rushing past us -- like at Hells Gate. Lene had the helm. She cranked the engine a bit higher than we like to run her, for about two minutes, and the danger was past. Then, it became a race for the Bridge of Lions, that crosses the ICW a few hundred yards north of the St Augustine Municipal Marina, which provides moorings.

I got a wonderful pleasant surprize from my beloved Lene today. She has often criticised me for tweaking the sail trim too often. She had the helm and gave me several suggestions to ease or harden the sheet in response to minor changes of course mandated by curves in the ICW and of wind speeds. And her suggestions were correct. The last vestiges of her claim: "Im not really a sailor!" are now toast!! Lene IS a sailor!

But more than five miles before the Bridge of Lions we figured out that we could not go fast enough to make it to its 4:30 opening, and would have to wait until 5:30. So we slowed down the engine, later took in the sail and eventually turned off the engine to simply float with the tide. But we still got there 35 minutes early and had to motor slowly, away from the bridge to try to maintain an approximately geostationary position against the tidal flow. And we got to our mooring after sunset but before dark. Technically this is called between civil twilight and nautical twilight. Underway from 8:15 to 5:45; a long day.

It is the holiday season in St. Augustine with its Christmas parade, including all sorts of clubs and businesses and every school with either a band or a high powered blast of recorded Christmas music. And the central plaza is lighted extensively. One evening saw the end of the annual "Night Watch". Groups of costumed British, Hessian, Native American and Colonist "reenactors" spent the night partying and then marched to the square to hear a reading of the "Proclamation of Freedom" from the Spanish.

We actually skipped the festivities. Its funny though, there are many Hispanic restaurants in town and most of the downtown streets have names such as Castillo, San Marco, Menendez, Ponce de Leon, Sevilla, Carrera, Valencia, Cordova, Ribiera and Aviles. Though I have been told that they regained these Hispanic names from the Anglican ones in the 1920s to promote tourism.
We have had some good weather hours here, but two of the days were very foggy (as had been one in JVille). Fog is less frequent here than in New England but just as unpleasant. And we also had two days of windstorm, making us happy that we were on a mooring rather than anchor. They are called "northers," and mark the passing of a cold front. This one gave us about 48 hours of 25-30 knot winds from the north. The first day we decided to forego the dink, which would have meant a wet ride, and take the marinas launch in to town, even though its hours are inconvenient -- only at 10, 12, 2, 4, and 6.  But the second day of the wind storm, our plan to leave that day having been adjourned, the launch came out to yell that it was too dangerous for them to take is in. So we had a day aboard for reading, blogging, correspondence and I plotted out the routes and distances of each remaining leg from here to the Dry Tortugas. It was a roly day because the strong north or south flowing tidal currents determine which way the goat faces, but the stong northerly winds, when in opposition to the currect turn the boat so it is not facing the wind, causing it to be rocked by the waves coming at the side.

 Notice boats facing different ways, the one on the right is "pinned" with its mooring ball rubbing at its side rather than out in front

We had breakfast at a Athena, a greek restaurant one day, lunch at O.C. White, an American fish place, another and pizza for dinner on our last night. The lunch was with Dean and Susan of "Autumn Borne" and their friends, Cathy and Earl, from North Carolina, of  s/v "Seeker". The Autumn Borners shared a bottle of wine with me another night,
For all the many folks who have had blueberry and or mango pancakes on ILENE, you have to come back. Why? To try the new and definitely improved sweet potato ones we tried.

Ilene spent quite a bit of time in the laundry room lounge, not just doing laundry, but also watching her TV programs on the excellent wifi -- excellent except that it does not reach the boat, half a mile away. I visited a store that sells used and some new boating stuff. I was looking for a teak pencil holder to attach to the nav station so I wont have to open its desk top to get a pencil. While they had a lot of stuff including lots of teak fixtures, this item was not among them. I did get a set of running lights for the dink to replace the ones that had gone bad. I wish there was such a store in the NY area. Another day I paid $5 for a round trip in a van to a supermarket to get everything on Lenes list.
I also polished and waxed more of the exterior stainless. And with Deans help we overcame a problem with coffee one morning: No propane was flowing to the stove. I checked the fuse, that the tank was full and got out the documentation we have on the Trident propane control and detector system. Dean brought a thermos of hot coffee with him and we continued to try to localize the problem. He took apart the solenoid. The electricity either turns it on to allow the flow of propane from its outside locker to the stove or cuts off that flow when a connected sensor detects a leak in the cabin. Finally we discovered the problem: a butt connector (it joins two wires, end to end, to allow electricity to flow from one through the other) under the galley sink had come loose. A wire was just dangling there. So crimping on a new connector solved the problem. Thanks again Dean, and for the coffee too!
During Lenes marathon sessions with Breaking Bad, I did some sightseeing. Not the fort and the two big former luxury hotels now a museum and a college. We had toured them in 2012. Instead, one afternoon I visited about ten of the many galleries. My favorite was Bouvier Maps and Prints on Avila St., (the oldest street in the US). Im juist a sucker for poring over maps, including expensive antique maps. Mr. Bouvier did not have charts published by the US Navy Hydrographic Office but many others of ports we have sailed in.
I also took the tour of the Hispanic Military Hospital Museum.

The young lady explained that Spanish society had developed much higher standards of certification of medical service providers and, more importantly, sanitation, compared to the British. She attributed this to the influence of the moors in Spain for hundreds of years, for whom hand washing, for example, is a religious obligation. I further attributed it to the influence of Jewish physicians such as Rabbi Moses Mainonides, the personal physician of the moorish ruler, on the moors. I also toured an exhibit in the town hall that, like all the others celebrated Floridas cultural diversity.

Another day I visited the Barracks, now the headquarters of the Florida National Guard with this brilliantly polished brass cannon out front,

the Royal Bakery (disappointingly now simply an auto garage), and the Gonzalez-Alvarez House, reputed to be the oldest, with its coquina (shell limestone) Hispanic first story and a wooden British second story having been added. The docent revealed that in the Victorian period the new owner had added Victorian additions that the Historical Society had removed after it took over the house in 1918. More cultural exhibits, followed by a room of maps of the world and later Florida, from the 16th through the 21st centuries. And there are more historic sites to visit on future stops in St. Augustine.

Actually we had planned only three lay days here and ended with five. The first of the extra days was while the wind howled. The second was also related to the wind. It had kicked up a sort of "storm surge" which raised the water level in the ICW. When we approached the first fixed 65 foot high bridge, about two miles south of the mooring at about 8 am, we took a look at the white board with numbers showing the feet above the water level that the bridge is. The water washed it at 62 feet that morning and our mast is 63.5 feet above the water. So I slammed us into reverse and gave a lot of throttle to overcome our seven knot forward speed and get away from the bridge. And the water was scheduled to rise until 10 am and not get low enough until the afternoon, too late to start a passage of more than 40 miles. So we went back onto our mooring to wait until the next day.

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