FISH-HEAD SOUP

Nassau is fun, even in the rain. It rained, no...it poured, all day yesterday (Monday, Dec. 1st). We had breakfast, did the dishes, then donned our bright yellow fowlies and headed out for some sightseeing.

Our marina is across the street from a shopping area. We wandered past all the stores, but most didn't open until 9:30 a.m. (remember...it's the Bahamas). So, partly to get out of the heavy rain, we hailed one of the jitneys that ply the streets of Nassau. The jitneys are actually large vans with regular routes, and for $1.25 you can go anywhere in Nassau.

Each jitney has it's own personality, dictated by the driver. Our driver liked reggae music and he liked it LOUD! It made you want to get up in the aisles and dance. We saw the east end of the island, away from the touristy areas, and got a good idea how the locals live. We didn't see the abject poverty that we saw in Puerto Rico or Quito, but Nassau could use some work on its solid waste disposal system. Lots of trash strewn around.

Our route also took us through the historic section of town. I want to go back and explore that on foot. At one of the stops downtown, 16 DePaul students and their teacher boarded our jitney. They were having a great time and the rain didn't seem to be bothering them, either.

We had the driver drop us off at the dock where the fishing boats tied up to unload their catch. We wandered through the stalls, each one painted a combination of bright colors. They offered conch served numerous ways, including ceviche, chowder, fritters, and stew. You could also buy bags of fresh-caught snapper and grouper and whole spiney lobsters.

We had arranged to meet our friends Mac and Shirley at a restaurant called Double D's, near the dock. It was highly recommended by a dock hand at the marina for it's authentic Bahamaian food at reasonable prices. We found the restaurant and tried the door, but it was locked. We heard a buzzer and tried the door again, which now opened. (We never did determine how they decided who could enter and who couldn't.)

Double D's was a large, poorly lit bar. One patron in back was drinking a Kalik (local beer), smoking a cigar and watching Barak Obama's TV press conference announcing his appointment of Hillary Clinton as secretary of state. A young man near the front was watching a rerun of Jurassic Park. We were the only other customers. Mac and Shirley had not yet arrived, so we ordered some conch fritters and a cold Kalik (me) while we waited.

They arrived a few minutes later, soaking wet from the downpour. We all began to look at the menu in earnest. The house specialties included fish head soup, sheep's tongue souse, conch souse, sheep's tongue stew, and chicken souse. You could also order barbequed ribs, roasted chicken, and grouper served various ways. Quite a menu for a bar!

The fish head soup intrigued me. After I determined from the waitress that the soup would not contain any fish eyes staring back at me, I decided to go for it. It was chunks of grouper heads in a flavorful broth that had just enough spicy taste to require a second cold Kalik. Actually, it was delicious and I would order it again.

Today the rain is gone and the sun has returned. It's still too windy outside the harbor for a comfortable trip south, but we're hopeful that we can leave by Thursday.

Phil has spent the morning trying to find and patch a hole in our dinghy. One side had deflated over the last few days. He had to remove the incredibly heavy outboard motor, then maneuver the sagging dinghy around the corner from the marina to an area where he could beach it and patch the leak. My morning's accomplishment was a simple load of laundry.

After the dinghy is repaired, we'll probably take another jitney ride to see the rest of the island and explore the downtown area.

WE MADE IT TO THE BAHAMAS, MON!

Just after dawn on the day after Thanksgiving, we started the engines on Sunshine, raised the anchor, and motor-sailed out into the Atlantic, headed for Nassau.

We had waited several days for the weather to be calm enough for us to safely cross the Gulf Stream. Our weather window looked good for two to three days.

The Gulf Stream is a deep, wide river of water off the southeastern U.S. coast, with north-moving currents up to four knots. Ships heading north use the current to speed them along. Sailors like us, with relatively small boats, try to avoid crossing the Gulf Stream when strong opposing winds from the north can kick up mammoth waves.

Therefore, wise sailors wait until there are no North winds in the forecast. Any winds under ten knots from the south, southeast or southwest will usually give you a calm crossing. And that's what we had.

Once you enter the Gulf Stream, which this day began about four miles off the coast of Florida, the water turns a deep violet blue. As we traveled along, we spotted large jelly fish pulsating in the water. Creatures that looked like bubbles floated on top of the water. Perhaps they were another type of jelly fish. At times, the surface of the water was smooth. At other times, there was just the hint of waves. It was a beautiful day. The word that best describes our Gulf Stream crossing was "uneventful."

We approached the Bimini Islands about 3:00 p.m. Our course led us through a small cut between Gun Cay (cay is pronounced "key" in the Bahamas) and Cat Cay. (We didn't see any guns or any cats.) Once through the cut, the 2,500 ft. depth immediately changed to 10 feet of beautiful gin-clear, aquamarine water. In fact, it was so clear that we had to keep checking our depth sounder to convince ourselves it was actually ten feet deep and not two or three.

This was the Bahama Banks, the beautiful shallow sea of the Bahama Islands. We steered a careful course to make sure we stayed within the deeper channel. It would have been easy to go aground just a few yards outside the channel. But the course was relatively straight and, with the help of our chart plotter and auto pilot, we kept moving.

As the sun set, we watched for the famous "green flash" that people report seeing just as the sun sinks below the horizon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_flash). We saw none, but Mac on Cat's Paw claimed he saw one. We'll keep trying every day until we have seen it.

Soon it was dark. Pitch black. The no-moon kind of dark. We traveled on through the night, following the light on Cat's Paw and carefully checking our course on the chart plotter. We also kept our eye on our radar screen to keep track of other boats in the area.

I discovered that depth perception, at least for me, is non-existent in the dark. With no land masses or structures as points of reference, it was difficult for me to tell whether a light was 20 feet away or two miles away. It was also difficult to tell if the light was moving or still. I may get used to night crossings, but it's going to take a while.

We had something that passed for dinner, but I don't even remember the menu. One of us ate while the other drove, then we switched and the driver ate. Late in the evening, we made a pot of coffee. We each took turns trying to nap, but one hour each was the best we could do.

About 2:30 a.m. we reached the end of the Bahamas Banks and the beginning of the Tongue of the Ocean, a 45-mile wide channel of deep water (4,500 ft) running north and south through the middle of the Bahama Islands. Where the Tongue of the Ocean met the shallow Bahama Banks, the waves were much stronger. At the same time, the winds had increased to about 15 knots, much greater than the 5-10 knot winds that were forecast.

Soon, it became rough enough that we had to hold tight when we moved around the boat. We couldn't see the wave action in the dark, but we could feel as the rocking horse movement began to increase. Even sitting at the helm, we had to hang on to keep from getting pitched out of the chair.

The rising sun around 6:00 a.m. was a welcome sight. Being able to see our surroundings lowered our stress level. We might as well have been in the middle of the Atlantic because we couldn't see land in any direction. We had been traveling 24 hours at this point and had another eight hours to reach Nassau.

The last 50 miles seemed to take forever. It was around 11:00 a.m. when we finally spotted New Providence Island in the distance, but it took another two hours to reach Nassau Harbor.

Once inside the harbor the winds calmed and the turbulence stopped. We glided past cruise ships and resorts. Hundreds of people were lined up to board a Carnival cruise ship. Young people on jet skis zoomed around the harbor, sometimes cutting recklessly close to our boat. The weather was beautiful and the water was the same clear blue-green that we saw on the Bahama Banks.

We followed Cat's Paw to a marina where we had reservations and within a few minutes both Cat's Paw and Sunshine were securely tied in our slips. We were not allowed to leave the boat until customs and immigration authorities had visited our boats, which happened within an hour.

This trip has been our most challenging experience so far and we are glad to have it completed. We are pleased to have made the trip, but I've decided that overnight crossings are my least favorite aspect of cruising. I would like to reserve them for times when we have no other option.

It's good to know that folks our age can actually remain awake and functioning for 31 hours straight. I do know that we were exhausted when we got here. We slept for 12 hours last night and are still not very energetic today. I'm hoping we'll be back to normal by tomorrow.

Today's activity consisted of washing one load of laundry here at the marina and visiting the grocery, which is right across the street. Food prices here are very high. A gallon of milk is $8.95 and bananas are $1.09/pound. We are going to have to alter our eating habits and learn to eat local. To that end, I bought Goombay punch, which we love, and pigeon peas, which I will fix with rice when I get my nerve up. Fresh pineapples were the only bargain in the produce department, so I bought one of those, too.

We are truly excited to be in the Bahamas. There is another northeastern front with very strong winds moving in tomorrow and prudence dictates that we'll be here until Wednesday waiting for it to pass before we begin moving down into the Exumas.

Isn't that a shame!!...stuck in Nassau for three days. We'll get another good night's sleep and then do some sightseeing.

Go Colts.

AN OVERNIGHTER ON THE OCEAN

After several months of cruising, we had begun to feel that we are ready to handle a winter in the Bahamas.

We had sailed the Intracoastal Waterway from Georgia down the Atlantic coast to the Keys and up the Gulf Coast to Naples, then back to Georgia. No major problems. No accidents. No one overboard unintentionally. We had not destroyed, or even (significantly) damaged, our boat or any other boats or docks. We have become reasonably proficient at anchoring, piloting, maintenance and repair.

The one thing we had not accomplished, until a couple of weeks ago, was an overnight sail.

While we were anchored at Lake Worth, we met a couple, Dick and Jan, anchored nearby on a large catamaran named Cambia. These new friends, both retired music teachers, had been sailing for nearly ten years. As we visited, they mentioned that they were going to make the 12-hour trip "outside" from Lake Worth (Palm Beach) to Miami on Thursday, leaving about 5:00 p.m.

Traveling on the ocean instead of the Intracoastal would eliminate having to negotiate 20 draw bridges between Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale. The trip from Ft. Lauderdale to Miami would have to be outside anyway, since there is a fixed bridge north of Miami that our 57' mast is too tall to pass under.

Dick and Jan had made this trip before. The weather forecast was for calm seas and light winds. We took a deep breath and asked if we could go with them.

Just before 5:00 p.m., we fired up the engines and headed out to sea, following Cambia at a safe distance. About two miles out, we headed south. It didn't take long for the sun to set. Slowly, the light faded until we had to strain to see the water in front of us. I worried for a while about what we might run into, but finally decided it was useless to be concerned about something I couldn't control.

The ocean swells raised and lowered the boat, but there were no breaking waves, only a gentle swaying up and down. There weren't many fellow boaters, but the ones we encountered had the proper lights for the most part.

We lit up Sunshine like a Christmas tree by turning on every light available, even more than required. We wanted to make sure that other boats could see us. Phil drove and we scanned the horizon every minute or two and watched the radar for other boats.

The hours passed. We ate cheese and crackers for dinner, donned our "fowlies" as the weather began to chill, and played Nora Jones and James Taylor on the stereo.

About 1:00 a.m., we passed the Port Everglades inlet at Ft. Lauderdale and had to dodge freighters, cruise ships and barges that were entering and exiting the port. I was surprised at the amount of traffic in the middle of the night. Radar helped us estimate the distance between us and other boats, but I still worried about being on a collision course with an ocean liner. We made it past Port Everglades without incident.

We arrived in sight of Miami about 4:30 a.m., but it seemed to take forever to actually get to the inlet, called Government Cut. I was driving at this point and there were several cruise ships in the area. Some were anchored outside the entrance to the channel. Some were moving.

As we entered the channel, our path was marked by flashing lights. Red on the right. Green on the left. All I had to do was stay between them as we approached Government Cut. Luck was with us and no ships were following us into the channel or leaving as we approached.

Dick and Jan had arrived before us and talked us into the anchorage, which was not far from the inlet and on the southwest side of Fisher Island. We anchored near them at 5:30 a.m. As I looked to the west, the Miami skyline was almost on top of us. It was a gorgeous picture post-card view.

We fell into bed and slept soundly until late in the morning.

First overnight passage. Mission accomplished!

BLOB ATTACKS BOAT!

Our trip down the Intracoastal Waterway from Titusville to Palm Beach was uneventful...until we arrived at our destination.

Motoring into the North Lake Worth anchorage, we heard and felt something hit the port hull and then bounce along underneath the boat. As we watched, an object bobbed up behind the stern and floated away. It appeared to be the remnants of a palm tree, barely visible above the surface.

Suddenly, the port engine began to vibrate, causing the whole boat to shake. We switched off that engine and proceeded into the anchorage using only the starboard engine. Once we got anchored, we tried the port engine again, and again the engine rattled and the boat shook. We both had visions of a broken propeller and another $400 haul-out to fix it.

It was nearly dark, so we had dinner and went to bed with somber thoughts of high-priced repairs.

The next morning, Phil donned a snorkeling mask and swam under the boat to inspect the propeller. He soon dislodged a four-foot mess of tree bark and fiber. We took the attached picture of the "blob" that had attacked our propeller.

Back on board, Phil started up the port engine, which now purred like a cat. Crisis averted!

We enjoyed a wonderful three-day visit with my brother, Allen, and his wife Dorie, whose lovely winter home is just a few miles from the anchorage. We celebrated an early Thanksgiving with them, made trips to WalMart and West Marine for supplies, and did our laundry.

We relaxed on their huge screened-in porch, enjoyed dinners in and out, chatted about politics and got caught up on family news. Life in Palm Beach Gardens is good.

We pulled the anchor late Thursday afternoon and headed out for our first overnight sail, which would take us from Palm Beach to Miami. I'll describe that trip in the next post.

Margaret

SPLASHED!

In cruiser language, getting "splashed" means having your boat put back in the water. Sunshine got splashed last Thursday (Nov. 6th). Her bottom has been sanded and painted and her hulls have been compounded and buffed. She is like a new boat!

We decided to remain at the dock for several days to finish up some projects and work on our provisioning for the Bahamas. Although there are grocery stores in the Bahamas, most things are very expensive, especially paper products, toiletries, wine, American beer, soft drinks, canned meat and canned fruits and vegetables.

All the cruising guides and the Bahama veterans have told us to provision well, so that's what I've been doing. I've made two trips to Walmart so far and will need a third visit to complete my list.

It's difficult to anticipate how much toilet paper, detergent, sunscreen, paper towels, toothpaste, crackers, canned food, etc., two people might need during the next six months. We are also going to have guests on board part of the time, so I'm guessing on a lot of the items.

I hope we will be eating lots of fresh-caught fish and local fruits and vegetables. But in case the fish aren't biting and we can't find local veggies, we'll have plenty of spaghetti with canned tomato sauce, rice and beans and peanut butter to tide us over.

Finding a place for all these provisions has been a challenge, but I've been surprised at what I can stash here and there. I just hope I remember where I've put things.

The Bahamas does have a lot of food and drink bargains. Rum, of course, is cheap and plentiful. The local beer, called Kalik, is tasty and inexpensive. Several items are imported from the UK and are real bargains, including butter in tins. You can also usually find beans, rice and flour.

I have a few more projects to finish before we leave Titusville, including making a cover for Phil's bicycle and giving Sunshine a good cleaning, inside and out. Phil has been busy fixing mechanical problems and making sure we have all the spare parts we need for six months out of the country.

We had originally planned to spend Thanksgiving with family in Palm Beach, but have decided to advance our schedule a bit. We'll leave Titusville later this week, anchor out at Melbourne the first night and Jensen Beach the second night, where we'll visit good friends from Greenwood. Then we'll move on south to Lake Worth, where we'll anchor out and have an early Thanksgiving with my brother Allen and his wife Dorie.

Afterwards, we'll go a little further south, perhaps the Miami area, and wait for a "weather window" to cross to the Bahamas. We are thinking of going straight through to Nassau, a 32-hour trip. Sailing overnight will be a new experience for us and our first trip across the Gulf Stream should produce some exciting blog posts.

Margaret

On the hard in Titusville

We arrived in Titusville, Florida on Sunday, October 18th. The wind was blowing about 20 knots, which made anchoring rather tricky.

Sunshine was bucking like a bronco and the wind was blowing us backward at about 4 knots as we let out the anchor. Phil was trying to balance on the bow as he monitored the chain coming out. I was at the helm, trying without much success to keep our backward motion to a minimum. The anchor caught suddenly and the boat jerked to a stop, nearly flipping Phil overboard.

We were glad when we got back inside the cabin and were able to settle in for the night.

By Monday morning, the wind had calmed and we dinghied ashore to Westland Marina, where we planned to have Sunshine hauled out of the water for a couple of weeks.

We checked in at the office and arranged the haul-out for Wednesday morning. Then, we took a short tour of Titusville in the car that our good friend Rich Tanner had kindly left for us to use. Rich, owner of a PDQ 36 named Feral Cat, had spent the summer at Titusville but headed south before we arrived.

In it's heyday, Titusville was home to most of the people who worked at nearby Cape Canaveral. NASA's diminished role in the last few years has taken a toll on this once flourishing town, but it still has the basic cruising necessities: a WalMart, a West Marine, and a boatyard with a lift to haul out our catamaran, and that allows you to remain on your boat and, most important, allows you to do your own work.

Marinas can make more money using their own employees to work on boats. As a result, do-it-yourself boatyards are becoming rare, and Westland Marina is one of the few remaining.

We were up early on Wednesday, getting ready for our haul-out. We motored Sunshine into the marina and tied up at the designated dock. When the traveling lift was in place, the dock workers pulled Sunshine into place. Slings were placed under the boat in front and back of her keel and she was hoisted up out of the water.

The travel lift carried Sunshine to an empty spot in the boatyard and lowered her so that she was resting on her keels, with two jacks in back to balance her 8,000 pounds.

We are able to live on board with most of the comforts of home, except for the head (bathroom). The bathhouse is a short walk away, so we are not suffering much.

We have been "on the hard," as they say, for a week and a half. Phil has completed sanding, priming and painting the bottom and I am working on buffing and waxing the hulls above the newly painted bottom.

We'll be out of the water for a few more days before we get "splashed," then plan to remain at anchor here at Titusville while we provision for our trip south, eventually winding up at West Palm Beach for Thanksgiving with family.

We are pleased with the results of our first major do-it-yourself project on Sunshine.

Margaret

SUNSHINE IS ON THE MOVE!

Wednesday morning, October 15, 9:30 a.m., we untied the dock lines and backed Sunshine, our 36' catamaran, out of her slip at Brunswick Landing Marina and headed south.

After a month and a half docked at Brunswick, just north of the Georgia-Florida line, we had grown soft and lazy. We had indulged in hot showers, letting the water run and run, free laundry, cable television, nightly cocktail parties on Dock 10, and our car only a few yards away, ready for a quick trip to WalMart or West Marine.

Mid-October was bringing a chill to the night air and we had promised ourselves to always be where the butter melted, so it was definitely time to begin our trek south, first to Florida and then to the Bahamas, where we planned to spend the winter.

We had spent the summer back home in Greenwood, Indiana. While in Indiana, we visited the Sailrite sewing machine factory in Churubusco, near Ft. Wayne, and purchased a sewing machine designed to make and repair sails and do canvas work.

All serious cruisers have Sailrites. With this marvelous machine, you can sew up to eight layers of canvas! It's definitely not a sewing machine for wusses.

My first project on the Sailrite was to make dinghy chaps (see photo). Inflatable dinghy's are like a car for cruisers. The dinghy is how you get from the boat to shore when you are anchored out. UV rays damage rubber dinghy's, so wise cruisers put coats on their dinghys, called "chaps." Chaps also prevent passengers from getting the dreaded "dinghy butt."

My friend Val, from La Buena Vida, encouraged me to make the chaps. She had made a set for her own dinghy. She got the fabric for me (Sunbrella) at a great price and gave me advice on how to make a pattern and fit the chaps to the dinghy. It was a week-long project, but when I was finished, the dinghy had a new coat.

A neighboring cruiser saw our dinghy chaps and said he had thought about buying some, but the price was $600. If our dinghy chaps are worth $600, we've nearly paid for our Sailrite already!

The second project was a screen for our companionway (another photo), which is the main door to our cabin, That project took only one day to complete and keeps the bugs out.

Our first day of travel took us outside into the Atlantic. Our traveling companions, Harold and Val on La Buena Vida, could not use the Intracoastal Waterway because their mast is too tall (66') to fit under some of the bridges and their draft (6') is too deep for the shallow ICW. Sunshine's mast is only 58' and our draft is less than 3'.

We had a fine wind and made good time with our sails up and the motor running, but the motion of the large waves and swells made both Phil and me a little green around the gills, so to speak, for most of the afternoon. Sometimes it takes a day or two to get used to the sea again after you've been away.

We anchored for the night in the shelter of Cumberland Island. The next morning, we decided to take the ICW and parted company with our friends on La Buena Vida.

The next two days on the ICW were calm and quiet. We motored seven or eight hours each day and found nice, quiet anchorages each night. Last night, we anchored in sight of the remains of Ft. Matansas, built by the Spanish in 1740 to try to keep the English from advancing down into Spanish-held Florida.

The ICW is not as fast as going "outside," but the scenery is incredible and the ride is fairly smooth. Some have described the ICW as how America looked before it was developed. There are no fast food restaurants, no filling stations, or malls, or subdivisions. In some places, especially in Georgia, you can travel for miles without seeing a house.

Now that we are in Florida, we see more homes, lots of other boats, and many people fishing. Wildlife is everywhere, including Great Egrets, Great Blue Herons, brown pelicans, white pelicans, gulls, terns, and ospreys by the dozens. Yesterday, I even saw a huge wood stork fishing along the water's edge. Dolphins play around the boat.

As I write this post, it's Saturday morning, October 18th. We are beginning our fourth day on the water. The weather has been beautiful and all the systems on the boat are working well. We should be in Titusville, by tomorrow afternoon.

Margaret

Ready for an ADVENTURE!

Our catamaran, Sunshine, is docked at Brunswick Landing Marina, just across the Florida border in Georgia.

We're within a few miles of Jekyll, St. Simon's and Cumberland Islands, all "out islands" of Georgia's Atlantic coast, each with lots of history and beautiful beaches.

This is the land of plantations, shrimp and grits and low country boil.

There are about 150 boats docked at Brunswick Landing. About a quarter of them are occupied and more owners are returning every week.

Many people leave their boats here for the summer, then return in the fall and head to the Bahamas, South America, the Virgin Islands, Turks and Caicos, Dominican Republic, etc., etc.

It's a very social place. Every evening at 6:00 p.m., people from all over our marina gather on Dock 10 for cocktails.

Don't ask me why the party is always on Dock 10, instead of Dock 2 or 4 or 7. The people whose boats are on Dock 10 will tell you it's because they are the cool people. That might be. Those Dock 10 folks are definitely very cool. But there are cool people on the other docks, too.

Sunshine is on Dock 2. Val and Harold on La Buena Vida are on Dock 8. Doug and Marlene on Cop Out are on Dock 3. Our friend Dave Robbins is on Dock 7. We are all pretty cool, but we still gather at 6:00 o'clock on Dock 10 because that's where the party is.

The other evening at Dock 10's nightly gathering, Dave Robbins mentioned that he had been hired to captain a big, beautiful sail boat from this marina to the Virgin Islands in December. He asked if any of us knew someone who might be interested in going along as cook for the crew.

I immediately thought of a close friend of mine from Greenwood. I knew her job would allow her to take a few weeks off and I thought she might be interested in an adventure. I sent her an e-mail and she answered immediately: "You're really serious, aren't you? YES, I'M INTERESTED!"

I put her in touch with Dave and the two of them have had several phone conversations. I also invited her to come visit us for a few days so she could get acquainted with Dave and the boat. (The boat is a 56-foot Oyster sailboat, reputed to be worth more than $2-million.) My friend will be arriving in Brunswick next Thursday for a long weekend with us. We are looking forward to her visit.

If all goes well and she and Dave think they can work together, she'll be looking forward to a great paid vacation for the month of December, on a beautiful boat sailing to an exotic location.

Georgia is beginning to cool off. We've had a few beautiful days with high's in the mid-80's, dropping into the 60's at night. Perfect weather for boat projects.

Phil has changed the oil in both engines and replaced the fuel filters. He removed the motor from our 9-foot dinghy (no small feat), then hoisted the dinghy onto the dock so I can fashion some "chaps" for our dinghy, using my new Sailrite sewing machine. The Sunbrella material has been delivered and I'm working on a pattern. The chaps will cover the dinghy, protecting it from the destructive UV rays and also protecting the passengers from the dreaded "dingy butt."

This morning, I used my Sailrite and screening material called Phifertex to fashion a screen door for our companionway, allowing the breeze to pass through but keeping the bugs out.

We are in the middle of "love bug" season here in Southern Georgia. In the heat of the afternoon, thousands of bugs that look like small lightening bugs appear in the air looking for mates. They hook up and fly around, connected, driving people into fits of love-bug-swatting. We are hoping our new screen door will keep the love bugs out of the boat.

Life is good here at Brunswick Landing Marina. We are completing projects and getting organized for a winter adventure in the Bahamas.

We hope to have time for some exploration north of here in the Carolinas during October and early November. During that time, we'll have the boat hauled out for a bottom-painting. Then we'll head south to celebrate Thanksgiving with my brother Allen and his wife Dorie in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida.

Then...we'll cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.

Margaret

A Hot Time in Georgia

Don't let anybody tell you that Georgia starts to cool down in September. It's HOT here.

Today, we took a road trip with our friends Val and Harold from La Buena Vida. They are having engine problems that seem to defy diagnosis, so they need to find a marina that will "haul" their boat and let them work on it themselves.

Cruisers are a self-sufficient bunch and we like to do as much work for ourselves as possible. In the case of Val and Harold, this means finding a marina that will 1) haul their boat out of the water using a huge crane with straps, 2) let them do the work themselves (or have their favorite mechanic do the work), and 3) allow them to continue living on their boat while it is "on the hard" as they say. All of this must be at a reasonable price.

Most port towns have marinas, but services and charges range from reasonable to astronomical. Our road trip today took us to Fernandina Beach and Green Cove Springs, Florida. Harold and Val wanted to see the marinas and talk to the dock masters. Green Cove Springs, just south of Jacksonville, turned out to be what they were looking for.

We all enjoyed the trip and it was cool in the air conditioned car. We stopped for lunch at a local place in Green Cove Springs and Phil and I split the Tuesday lunch special...20 wings for the price of ten. I washed my wings down with an ice cold beer.

We returned to the boat around 4:30 p.m. The thermometer in the salon read 98 degrees. We got it down to 85 after opening all the hatches (windows) and turning on all the fans.

Around 6:00 p.m., we met with a young man named Trey, who the locals say is very good at teaching folks like us the finer points of sailing. We arranged for him to come aboard for a couple of days and help us hone our skills.

We are still waiting for the refrigerator part to be delivered. In the meantime, we make daily runs for ice to keep our perishables cool. I am looking forward to having a real working fridge on the boat.

Tomorrow, I will begin my first project using the Sailrite sewing machine that Phil and I purchased this summer at the Sailrite factory in Churubusko (Indiana). A Sailrite is a special heavy-duty sewing machine that can sew through eight layers of canvas. You can repair your sails and do many other boat projects with a Sailrite.

My first project will be to make a canvas "coat" for our dingy. It will protect the dinghy from the UV rays, giving it a longer life, but most important it will save me from the dreaded "dinghy butt."

Life on board is good...warm, but good. We have been spared the ravages of the recent hurricanes and tropical storms. We are keeping our fingers crossed until hurricane season ends in November.

I hope we'll still be here the third week in September. Brunswick is having a Shrimp and Grits Festival. It doesn't get any better than that.

WE'RE BACK!

Our last post was in late May, as we were leaving Sunshine, our PDQ 36 catamaran, at Brunswick, Georgia and heading back to Greenwood, Indiana for the summer.

After cruising for five months on Sunshine earlier this year, the transition to dry land was not easy for me. It took at least a month after getting home for me to be comfortable with the change. We had loved our simple cruising life, and I found it difficult to return to our old life, and for me, to return to work.

But we persevered, and the summer turned out to be a wonderful time of getting reacquainted with friends and family. We accomplished many projects, hosted some great pool parties and get-togethers, attended four weddings, and spent precious time with our grandkids, ages four and seven. The best grandkid times were when they came for sleep-overs (or "awake-overs" as our 7-year-old granddaughter calls them).

With the approach of fall, Sunshine was calling for us to return. We left Greenwood Wednesday morning (September 3rd) in a car packed to the gills with "boat stuff." We stayed overnight just south of Atlanta and arrived at Brunswick Landing Marina Thursday afternoon.

Sunshine was just as we left her three months ago. She had been through a "blow" with Tropical Storm Faye a couple of weeks ago, but showed no signs of any damage. Several friends are here at this marina with their boats, waiting out hurricane season.

As we watch Tropical Storm Hanna work her way up the East Coast far north of us and listen to reports of Hurricane Ike ready to ravage the Bahamas and then possibly the Florida Keys, we are counting our weather blessings, so far.

We'll be here in Brunsick for at least a week or so. Phil is busy removing the old refrigerator and getting ready to install a new one. I'm still finding places to put away all the things we brought with us.

Brunswick is an old port city a few miles up a river from the coast. We can walk to the old downtown area, which has several nice restaurants and shops, and a great farmers market on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.

I visited the farmers market this morning and brought back spiced pecans, Georgia peaches, some home-made pure cane syrup (which I read was necessary for authentic Bahamian rum punch), blueberries, delicious large round grapes that no one knew the name of, tomatoes, and Perky Pear Relish and Hot Pepper Jelly, made by a guy named Richard.

About a dozen shrimp boats are docked just up the river from the marina. A sky full of pelicans over the boats signals their return each day and you can walk over to the boats and buy fresh-caught shrimp. The cost of fuel and over-fishing have diminished the catch and raised prices, but $5.00 a pound still isn't bad.

I'll add some pictures to the blog in the next day or two and give you an update on the refrigerator install. When the new fridge is in place and working, we hope to head north and explore the coasts of North and South Carolina, and perhaps get as far as the Chesapeake before cold weather arrives. After that, we'll head south and maybe make it to the Bahamas for the winter season.

Margaret

Winding Down

We reached Brunswick Landing Marina this afternoon. This is where we will leave our boat for the summer. We are nearing the end of our first journey and we're not quite sure how to feel.

We are definitely looking forward to returning to Indiana and seeing our family and friends. But at the same time we have experienced a new way of life that we don't want to give up.

This trip began in January near Savannah, Georgia. With almost no boating experience but lots of enthusiasm, we sailed from Savannah south along the Atlantic Coast, down through the Florida Keys, up the west coast of Florida to Naples, back through the Keys and back up the Atlantic Coast to Georgia.

Along the way, we have learned to:

--find good, safe places to anchor

-- set the anchor on the boat so it doesn't drag (almost never)

--read a marine chart and understand markers and what they mean

--communicate with bridge tenders, the Coast Guard, and other boaters via the VHF radio

--maintain and repair most of the systems on the boat when they fail

--sail (although you never really stop learning how to sail)

--predict the weather (you automatically double NOAA's estimate of wind speed and wave height and learn that whatever direction you will be traveling, the wind will usually be coming towards you)

--live happily without television, a car, a washer and dryer, hair dryer, make-up, and a hot shower every day.

--catch fish, clean them and cook them

--live nearly "off the grid." In other words, we can produce almost enough electricity through solar panels and a wind generator to cover our power needs. Eventually, we hope to live totally "off the grid."

In addition to getting the best tans we've ever had and lots of exercise and fresh air, we have also met too many new friends to count. Cruisers are the most interesting, caring, adventurous folks you can imagine.

Getting to know other cruisers is almost effortless. Everyone wants to socialize and parties and pot lucks happen at the drop of a hat. We all have so much in common and so much to talk about.

Some of the people we've met have sailed around the world. Many spend their winters in the Bahamas or the Keys, some have traveled all of the Great Lakes, explored the Chesapeake, traversed the Panama Canal. Others have sailed to South America, Asia, the Phillipines, Fiji Islands, Australia, and New Zealand.

Many have raised their children aboard their boats. The children of cruisers we have met are amazingly social, interesting and very knowledgeable about the world.

Our cruising friends have also helped us "learn the ropes." They have shared their knowledge and encouraged us from the beginning when this project was just a dream.

I don't think we could have accomplished this journey without the help of our cruising friends....Rich on Feral Cat, Bonnie and Roger on Kokomo, Sam and Gina on Lady of the Lake, Harold and Val on La Buena Vida, Pam and Richard on Tisha Baby, Lloyd and Caroline on Amelia Rose, Brian and Lynn on Midori, Rana and Mike on Raven, Rick and Mary on Tranquillity, Don and Diane on Fitzcat, Chris and Bruce on Sojourn, and Russ on Bay Breeze.

We have learned so much from all of them and many others. Cruisers are a breed apart.

So here we are. We'll fly home next week and resume our previous life for the summer. Sunshine will stay here in Brunswick.

We'll give you a report on our adjustment to life on land as well as our future plans.

Thanks for listening.

Phil and Margaret

500 Miles to Brunswick, Georgia

It was finally time to begin our journey north to Brunswick, Georgia, just across the northern border of Florida. We have made plans to leave our boat there for the summer while we return to Greenwood.

We vacated our mooring ball in Boot Key Harbor on Sunday, May 4th, and headed up the Keys in the company of two other boats, La Buena Vida (Harold and Val) and Bay Breeze (Russ).

The first day we made it to Rodriguez Key, just south of Key Largo. The second day we got to No Name Harbor, at the bottom of Key Biscayne, where we stayed for a couple of days to rest and enjoy the beautiful state park there.

We left No Name Harbor on Wednesday, May 7th, and turned north in Biscayne Bay, exiting through Miami's Government Cut out into the Atlantic. All three boats decided to go out into deeper water to see if the fishing was better.

We headed out about three miles and were soon in 600 feet of water, on the edge of the Gulf Stream. The water was a beautiful indigo blue. We could see for miles and the influence of the Gulf Stream gave us a fast ride north.

As we scanned the horizon to the east, we saw an island with high rise buildings and a large water tower. A quick check on the chart plotter indicated we were looking at Bimini, in the Bahamas! It was 42 miles east of Miami and clearly visible.

We both decided that being able to see Bimini from Miami made it seem close enough that we might actually be able to make that crossing next winter.

It was a great day of motor-sailing, but we did not catch any fish. We anchored that night in a quiet Ft. Lauderdale residential area called Middle River.

The next day's sail, to West Palm Beach, was not one of our better days. The weather forecast had called for five to eight knot winds and two to four foot seas. The wind began picking up late in the morning and we were soon dealing with winds gusting to 25 knots and 5-8 foot seas. It was a most uncomfortable ride and at the end of the day, we were pleased to have it behind us.

We rested and resupplied for a couple of days at North Lake Worth, then prepared to resume our journey on Saturday, May 10th. Our plans changed quickly when we discovered that Sunshine's port engine would not start.

The three captains conferred, tested, and conferred some more, finally deciding that our starter motor was the problem. After several phone calls and more conferring, they found a mechanic who was working on the weekend (it was Saturday) and who agreed to rebuild the starter. Phil quickly removed it and he and Harold dinghied to shore. They took a taxi to the shop and were back within a few hours, with a rebuilt starter motor.

That night, everyone came to our boat to celebrate with a steak dinner and strawberry shortcake. As we were preparing dinner, someone noticed that a boat that had anchored next to us, a catamaran named "Suitsus," was dragging its anchor. There was no one aboard.

Our three captains decided that immediate action was needed to keep the boat from colliding with pilings behind it. Quickly, they launched two dinghies, each carrying an extra anchor and plenty of line. The two additional anchors were soon secured to the wandering catamaran and it came to a stop, averting near certain disaster.

The boat's owner, his wife and son returned to their boat as we were finishing our dinner. They realized immediately that their boat was not where they left it, noticed the two additional anchors, and let us know how grateful they were for our help.

Sunday morning, we headed north again. The destination was Jensen Beach. Again, the weather forecast was incorrect and light winds turned into 30 knot winds by early afternoon. Fortunately, we had decided to travel on the IntraCoastal Waterway (ICW), which is an interior route. Even in the protection of the ICW, the winds were very strong.

As we were about to cross under a high-rise bridge, about five miles from Jensen Beach, we noticed that Bay Breeze was having problems. He was without power and was forced to throw out his anchor.

We turned around and came back to lend moral support. The winds were too strong to attempt any repairs, so Russ had called SeaTow for assistance. (SeaTow is AAA for boats.) Within a few minutes, SeaTow arrived.

At about the same time, Phil and I noticed that two young boys had overturned a kayak about 500 yards away. We watched as a boy on a jet ski rescued one of the boys, but a second was still waving his arms in distress. We alerted the SeaTow captain, who immediately went to aid the second boy.

After he took the boy to safety, the SeaTow captain returned and towed Bay Breeze to the anchorage. We followed behind.

As we pulled into the Jensen Beach anchorage, Phil and I noticed that Suitsus, the wandering catamaran from the night before, was also already there. We anchored beside him, not behind him.

With all three boats safely anchored, we all went ashore and had a great Mother's Day dinner at a waterfront restaurant called Conchy Joe's.

Today, Russ, a mechanic before he became a cruiser, was able to fix his boat. We are all getting together for dinner tonight and will likely resume our journey tomorrow morning.

The wind is still howling.

Key West Independence Celebration and Andy's Visit

There's no place else quite like Key West.

It's only about 50 miles from Marathon, which we could have sailed in one long day, but we decided to take our time and make it a two-day trip. We anchored in Newfound Harbor, a little more than half the way. The next day (Tuesday, April 22nd), we sailed into Key West about two in the afternoon.

There were a couple of places to anchor right across the busy main channel near the "Old Town" area, which were already quite full of boats. There was also a mooring field, but it was located a long dinghy-ride away from the festivities.

I suggested we try to find some space in one of the anchorages closest to the festivities. The wind and current were both strong from the north, and the anchorage didn't provide a lot of protection, but we managed to get the anchor set well. We seemed to be far enough from the other boats.

We dinghied into the main Key West harbor (called Key West Bight) and walked around the bustling waterfront. We had an early dinner at the Turtle Kraal Restaurant overlooking the harbor, then returned to the boat around 7:00 for an early bedtime.

A loud air horn awakened us from a sound sleep around midnight. We rushed to the cockpit and discovered another boat precariously bobbing barely three feet in front of our bow.

I started the engines while Phil went forward to discuss the situation with the captain of the other boat. The other captain was determined that he should not be required to move, even though our boat was still in the same relative position as when we anchored and he had moved closer to us.

Since we were the last to anchor, and further negotiations with the other captain seemed fruitless, we upped the anchor. It was very dark and the wind was howling. We tried to re-anchor a little farther away, but couldn't get the anchor to set.

After two or three more tries, we gingerly made our way in the dark across the channel to a second anchorage with fewer boats. The first couple of tries didn't hold, and we discussed the possibility of just cruising around for the rest of the night in the dark, but a third try was successful and the anchor seemed well set.

Our anchoring faith had been tested, however, and we shared "anchor watches" the rest of the night, with one sleeping and the other awake to be sure the anchor didn't drag.

Daylight found us groggy, but safely anchored in the same place. We quickly decided that moving to the mooring balls was the best choice for guaranteeing a good night's sleep, even though the mooring balls were farther away from the festivities.

We spent Wednesday and Thursday nights safely attached to the mooring balls. Wednesday we rested and did projects on board. Thursday, we agreed we deserved to have some fun.

We dinghied to the nearest dock, about a mile away, and walked about a mile to the downtown area. We met friends for an early dinner and then headed down Duvall Street for the Conch Republic Independence Parade.

It was a most unusual parade, to say the least. Thousands of tourists lined Duvall Street. The parade featured the Conch Republic Hair Force (Key West locals wearing inflatable airplanes around their waists and big Marge Simpson hairdos): the Conch Republic CIA (Cuties in Action) consisting of women in bright costumes on roller skates; various Conch Republic dignitaries, lots of costumed pirates throwing candy and necklaces, and other floats that simply defy description. Everyone had a great time.

It was a total spoof of every kind of parade you have ever seen. The police presence was almost nonexistent, unlike parades we are accustomed to. The motorcycle officers we did see were wearing necklaces and leighs.

On Friday, we left the mooring field and moved to a marina on Stock Island, just east of Key West, to await the arrival of our younger son, Andy, who was flying in from Seattle to spend a few days with us.

Andy's plane arrived in Ft. Lauderdale after midnight Friday. He rented a car and drove the three and a half hours to Key West, arriving at the marina about 4:30 a.m. Saturday.

We welcomed him aboard, talked for a while, then everyone retired to our staterooms to finish our night's sleep.

The next few days, we enjoyed more Conch Republic festivities, including watching a "bed race" up Duvall Street. We ate lots of seafood, took Andy on a day sail in some pretty bumpy seas, and saw the sights of Key West. We also enjoyed just spending time with our younger son.

The visit ended too quickly. Andy headed back to Ft. Lauderdale around noon on Tuesday. We topped off the fuel tanks and headed out soon after, destined for an anchorage at Bahia Honda Key.

We had a nice sail to Bahia Honda, catching a large Black Grouper as we pulled into the anchorage around 5:00 p.m. We anchored with friends that night and shared dinner.

The next day, the winds picked up dramatically. Although we only had about eight miles to get back to Boot Key Harbor at Marathon, it was a rough eight miles. The winds increased to about 24 knots and they were right on the nose. We pounded our way through the waves, motoring and sailing, into Boot Key around noon, glad to be safely in the comfort of a harbor and secure on a mooring ball.

Grandkids, more fish, and fewer fears

I have always loved the Gulf Coast of Florida. When I was a child, my family vacationed at Ft. Myers Beach every year, and I have fond memories of those trips.

Sailing up the West Coast last week to meet our son, Matt, his wife, Michelle, and our two grandchildren, Kailyn (age 6) and Tyler (age 3) in Naples was one of the high points of our journey so far.

We tied up at the Naples City Marina on Saturday, April 5th, and spent the day getting the boat ready for company. Matt called around noon on Sunday to say they had arrived at the condo where they would be staying and would come to the dock around 2:00 p.m.

Kailyn is a proficient reader. Since we were at the far end of the marina, I quickly made a series of signs and taped them along the docks leading to our boat. I knew the kids would love to follow the clues.

As Kailyn and Tyler found the last clue, they came running to the boat. We greeted them with open arms. Michelle's twin sister, Danielle, her husband, Brian, and their two sons Steven (age 6) and Ethan (age 3) came along also. After the kids made a thorough inspection of the boat, we all went out to dinner.

We spent a wonderful week with the extended family. There was lots of beach time, finding shells and starfish and making sand castles. We took a nice boat ride on Sunshine with the kids and their dads sitting up on the bow for a tour of Naples. And we ate lots of good seafood.

On Thursday, the Indiana visitors headed back home and we prepared for our journey back to Marathon and Boot Key Harbor.

While at Naples City Dock, we had met Doug and Debbie on Perigee, another catamaran, who were planning to head south about the same time we were. We left Naples on Friday morning and anchored that evening with Perigee at Jack Daniels Key, just south of Everglades City.

The weather forecast showed a cold front arriving from the North on Sunday afternoon, so we decided to leave the anchorage at dawn on Saturday morning and try to make it all the way to Marathon in one day.

The trip was about 65 miles, farther than we had ever gone in one day before. We pulled the anchor at first light, about 6:40 a.m., and followed Perigee out into the Gulf of Mexico.

All day, the wind was "on our nose" as they say. That means we were heading directly into the wind, which isn't very productive for sailing. We motored with the sails up, but finally decided the sails were slowing us down, and we pulled them in.

Motoring at about five knots, it was slow going. Our speed increased to six knots as we passed the southern tip of Florida. We said goodbye to Perigee, as they were headed to the Upper Keys, and we proceeded directly south on our own towards Marathon.

Although we weren't moving very fast, Phil did manage to catch two more large Spanish Mackerels during our trip. I filleted one and Phil filleted the second. They tasted great the next day!

There was a third fish, which we are calling the MONSTER fish, that chomped on our bait during the trip. I was at the helm. Phil was inside the boat. I suddenly heard the line make a "whee-ee-ee" sound. Before I could even pull back on the throttle and get Phil's attention, the MONSTER fish had emptied the reel of its line. There was a split second when I thought maybe I could begin to reel it in, but the 60-pound test line snapped before I could even consider grabbing the pole.

We'll never know what grabbed that line. I would like to think it was a huge Mahi or a Yellow Fin Tuna.

We passed under the Seven Mile Bridge about 7:30 p.m., close to sunset. It took us another half hour to reach the bascule bridge leading to Boot Key Habor. However, the bridge tender had gone off duty at 7:00, so we had to anchor right outside the bridge.

The light was disappearing quickly as we dropped the anchor. The first try didn't set, so we pulled the anchor and tried a second time. This time, the anchor set and we were secure for the night, just as the last light was fading.

We had been underway for nearly 14 hours and decided the cook needed a break. We dinghied to Burdine's Chiki Tiki restaurant nearby and enjoyed a fine dinner, then dinghied back to the boat and fell into bed.

First thing Sunday morning, we pulled the anchor and hailed the bridge tender, who welcomed us back to Boot Key Harbor. We managed to claim the same mooring ball (out of 226) where we had been before, and felt we had come back home.

We've been here at Boot Key Harbor for several days, stocking up on groceries, doing our laundry, and enjoying the camaraderie of old friends and meeting new friends. There are not many harbors that make you feel as welcome as Boot Key.

This weekend, we'll head to Key West. The Conch Republic Independence Celebration will begin on Friday, the 18th, and continues to the 27th. Our younger son, Andy, is flying in from Seattle to spend a few days with us beginning on Saturday, the 26th, and we are looking forward to his visit.

In case I haven't told you about the Conch Republic Fesitval, let me explain:

Back in 1982, the Navy was trying to stem the tide of Cuban refugees coming to the Keys by boat, so they installed a checkpoint at the north end of the Keys. The result was a traffic jam so great that few tourists could make it to Key West.

The mayor of Key West petitioned the Navy to remove the checkpoint, which they refused to do. So, the mayor filed papers of secession, Key West declared war on the U.S., and attacked the Key West Navy Base with rotten tomatoes. The Navy responded with water hoses.

Key West surrendered (the same day they declared war) and applied for $5-billion in foreign aid, which, of course, they never got. However, the massive publicity caused the Navy to remove the checkpoint.

After that, Key West residents began calling themselves the Conch Republic and, although the secession was mostly a publicity stunt, I think a lot of folks in Key West consider themselves separate from the United States.

We are looking forward to helping the Conch Republic celebrate the 26th anniversary of their independence from the U.S. I'll try to take lots of pictures, because I don't think I'll be able to accurately describe this event in words.

Finally, I thought it might be time to review the list of "fears" I had at the beginning of the trip:

Here was my list from February 4th:

1) The dinghy scares me. I am ashamed to admit this, but this little inflatable boat that is our "car" is difficult for me to get used to.

I am no longer afraid of the dinghy. It's still a little difficult for me to get in and out of, but it no longer scares me.

2) It scares me to go sleep on an 8,700 pound boat being held in place by single anchor. I get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor.

I still get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor, but it no longer scares me. I sleep well on the boat at anchor.

3) It scares me to try to dock this 36' by 18' yacht and then help get it securely tied up.

I think everyone is apprehensive about docking, but it no longer scares me. I've learned some techniques about estimating the effect of the current and the wind, and I've learned to slow down. I now enjoy the challenge of docking.

4) It scares me to try to pull away from a dock without crunching the back of the boat, or going aground (as I did a few days ago).

We're still working on this one, but I can't say I'm scared any more. It's definitely a challenge to pull away from the dock gracefully, especially when the wind and/or the current is pushing you back into the dock.

5) It will really scare me when we "go outside."

We have "gone outside" several times now. It is no longer scary. We watch the weather and don't take chances.

6) Learning to sail will scare me. We have very little experience at sailing and we have a lot to learn. As we learn, I will be less scared.

We have sailed a number of times and there has been nothing scary. We have both learned how to raise the sails and pull them back in. We have learned how to trim the sails to get the best effect from the wind. We are not expert sailors in any sense of the word, but we are learning a lot.

7) Our first overnight passage will scare me.

We haven't tried an overnight passage yet, but I don't think I will be scared. I will probably have a hard time staying wake, but it no longer scares me to contemplate an overnight passage.

Life is good,

Margaret

A Fish Fry for Eight Hungry Sailors

Boot Key Harbor, halfway between Key Largo and Key West, is possibly the most comfortable. friendly place you would ever want to spend some time.

The one and only thing that would cause us to leave the comfort and safety of Boot Key Harbor and travel the unfamiliar territory of Southwest Florida and the Gulf of Mexico is a chance to meet up with our son, his wife, and our grandchildren, whom we haven’t seen since we left Greenwood in early January.

Fortune again smiled on these inexperienced cruisers. At a Wednesday night “meet and greet” at the Boot Key Harbor Marina, we were introduced to Lloyd and Carolyn from Minnesota on the sailboat “Amelia Rose” who were planning a trip to Charlotte Harbor, north of Naples. They had made this trip many times and invited us to join them.

A third boat, owned by Ken and Joanne, also from Minnesota, which we all christened “Bubba Boat” because none of us could pronounce her Spanish name, would also be joining our caravan.

We said goodbye to Boot Key Harbor at 8:30 Saturday morning and headed north, on our journey up the wild, mostly uninhabited Gulf Coast of Southwest Florida.

The sun was shining, the temperature was climbing into the 80’s, the winds were calm, and the sea was smooth.

We motored through the Moser Channel just outside of Boot Key, under a fixed bridge with 65’ clearance, and north into the Florida Bay. As we cleared the bridge, we all raised our sails, trying to catch a little wind to add to the speed produced by the engines.

This day would be another first: our first sail out of sight of land. I watched as the Seven Mile Bridge disappeared from view behind us. A few small keys laid to the west, but after an hour of sailing, all land disappeared and the horizon was only turquoise water for 360 degrees.

Phil and I took turns at the helm, one hour on and one hour off. Porpoises came and went, diving under the boat and playing in the wake. The chart plotter told us we were about 10 miles off shore, but we could see no land. The sun was shining brightly, but a steady breeze kept us cool.

I had been apprehensive about our first voyage out of sight of land, but like so many other aspects of this adventure, my fears gave way to wonder and exhilaration. Motor-sailing along at six knots with the boat gently rocking and no land in sight gave me a feeling of peace and comfort.

A full day of traveling brought us to the Little Shark River, part of the Everglades National Park. We traveled in to shore on a well-marked route and soon were anchored in a wide river that could easily have been the setting for a horror movie. Hurricane Wilma had left it’s mark on this beautiful river, decimating the mangrove and hardwood forest that lined the river. Even after several years of new growth, the devastation was still evident. Ichabod Crane would have felt at home here.

We anchored with the other two boats about 6:00 p.m., had dinner and settled in for an early bedtime, closing up the boat before the hordes of mosquitoes attacked at dusk. Before we went to sleep, Amelia Rose hailed us on the VHF and asked if we could be ready to leave at 7:30 the next morning, because we had 65 miles ahead of us to get to Marco Island.

Like clockwork at 7:30 a.m. Sunday morning, all three boats headed out of Shark River. We traveled about ten miles offshore and then turned to the north.

As soon as we reached deeper water, Phil prepared a fishing line with an artificial lure that looked like a small minnow, and let out the line behind the boat. Within the first hour, we had hooked a fish. I took over the helm while Captain Phil worked the line. I could see a good-sized fish bouncing along the water as he reeled it in.

We identified the catch as a Spanish Mackerel. It was about two feet long and was pretty upset at being dragged onto the boat. I put the boat on auto-pilot, and using a tip from a fellow boater, rinsed a small towel in sea water and covered the fish. He immediately stopped flopping around.

Another boater had recommended subduing a catch with a squirt of alcohol in the gills. We had no gin or vodka on board, but I did have some rubbing alcohol. A quick squirt in the gills dispatched our fish quickly, with a smile on his face.

We stored the mackerel in a cooler and covered him with ice. We hailed the other boats and bragged about our catch. Bubba Boat wanted to know exactly what kind of lure we were using, so Phil described it in detail.

Phil let out the line again and within an hour, we had hooked a second Spanish Mackerel. Again, he managed to adroitly bring the fish on board and, again, it was at least two feet long. We applied our tried and true subduing methods and the second fish soon joined the first fish in the cooler.

The line went out again and before long we had snagged a third Spanish Mackerel. After depositing fish number three in the cooler, Phil took over the piloting of the boat and I proceeded to filet the catch. Although I didn’t have scales to weigh the filets, it looked like enough to feed an army.

We arrived at Marco Island about 6:00 p.m. and all three boats were anchored in Factory Bay by 7:00. We invited the other two boats over for a fish fry. As soon as we anchored, we put potatoes on the grill to bake and prepare two frying pans with enough oil to fry the catch.

Our fellow boaters arrived around 8:30 p.m., bringing salads and dressing to round out the meal. I dredged the fillets in bread crumbs and corn meal and dropped them into the hot oil. Our feast was complemented by lots of wine and soft drinks. The party lasted until nearly midnight.

We spent the next two days resting, doing odd jobs on the boat, reading, and enjoying the beautiful scenery and weather in Marco Island.

On Wednesday, we said goodbye to our buddy boats and traveled a few miles north, anchoring on a pristine river near a large lake called Rookery Bay, a protected nesting area for water fowl. Although we were within a few miles of both Marco Island and Naples, it seemed as if we were in the middle of a wilderness.

We tried our hands at fishing in the river using the same artificial lure that had caught the mackerels, but had no luck. On a whim, I attached a small piece of leftover pork roast to a hook on a line and soon felt a tug. On my line was a 12” catfish, which Phil carefully de-hooked and released. We did take a picture (see above) to prove that I had actually caught a fish.

Today, (Thursday) we have moved a few more miles to the southern outskirts of Naples. This time, our anchorage is in a small bay, surrounded by multi-million dollar homes. We’ve gone from the sublime to the ridiculous, but our internet, cell phone and television reception are all exceptional.

We’ll probably hang out here in the land of the rich and famous for a couple of nights, then move to the Naples City Docks to await the arrival of our son, daughter in law and grandchildren on Sunday.

Life is good.