Monthly Archives: December 2014

Wednesday, 24 December                                                                        0.0 SM

Palms line the shore at the Yacht Basin.

There’s the steady hum of morning rush on the twin bridges, just above the bow. Below decks, the Philadelphia Symphony fills the cabin with “O Tannenbaum,” courtesy of Radio Free Naples. Sun fills the cockpit, peeking between the coconut palms ashore.

It’s 0800. A light southerly whispers across the Caloosahatchee. Sure, it’s 72-degrees but with that wind chill factor, it feels like 71. The forecast calls for a high today in the mid-80s.  (Yes, Dan, this doesn’t suck!)

Hard to believe the uniform of the day is short sleeves and shorts on Christmas Eve. Aboard Steadfast, there is agreement that having a “change of seasons” is greatly overrated. This weather does not diminish the feeling of Christmas.  I mean, come on man – Bethlehem’s in the desert!  Snow?  There are palm trees all over the place like, well, Florida.  Think about it.  The REAL Christmas tree is a date palm!

Nothing says Christmas like Pirate Santa at the reins with Rudolph-the-Red-Nosed Gator on the bow.

Well, okay, maybe a little. But it appears it’s something one can get used to, witness the displays of neighbors at Fort Myers Yacht Basin.

So, here’s wishing a merry Christmas to all and many blessings for the New Year!  But for now…

Steadfast out.

BTW…the cold front coming through tonight is supposed to drop temperatures in the low 60s overnight, a high of just 71 tomorrow, Christmas Day.  How’s that for a change of season?

Tuesday, 23 December                                                            41.8 SM

There’s that sound again. Heard many mornings in Maine, Rhode Island and, most recently, Fernandina Beach. The sound of someone dropping BBs on the deck, here and there, one every few seconds. But that can’t be. Maybe it’s acorns…nah, no oaks here.

The fog of sleep lifts to reveal the fog on deck. The “BBs” are the droplets of mist that run off the rigging and slam hard on the hatch, the deck. It’s wet up there. And the fog thick enough the far bank is just a suggestion.

Can you find the boat in Ortona Lock? It’s somewhere in the shroud of fog.

By 0730, though, enough is seen to suggest getting underway. The “dolphin ballet” begins, let out the bow line, pull in the stern, pirouette tip-toe on the cap rail to uncleat one line, then pull-in the bow line and repeat. Steadfast then motors toward where Ortona Lock is supposed to be. The lockmaster confirms it remains in place and operating.

“Once this east-bound boat locks through, watch for the green light and you can come on in,” he says. “Tie-off either side, Captain.”

The bascule bridge at La Belle…

…swing bridge at Fort Denaud.

Once through, it’s 0830 with still one lock and two closed bridges remaining to slow the day’s progress to Fort Myers. Even given those obstacles, Steadfast makes good time. Red plugs along, pushing past names on the chart like Olga and Alva, La Belle and Owanita.

Livestock graze with the egrets.

Way up the Caloosahatchee, no place to sail, but lots of sticks!

First it’s farms, then an orange orchard, a marina, then another. Owl Creek Boat Works is way up a canal to starboard. To port, Riverview Retirement Community boasts single-wides for sale or rent, places to park an RV and a slip for your runabout or pontoon. It’s got it all.

A welcome sight, Fort Myers skyline.

Then once past Beautiful Island, there’s waterway takes a slight turn to port and off on the horizon, Fort Myers. How ‘bout that? After all these miles, all these weeks, finally Fort Myers. And…in time for Christmas.

There’s a sound topside. Not BBs or pebbles but the sound of voices singing carols.

Sweet sound, indeed.

Steadfast out.

Monday, 22 December                                                            54.9 SM

Captain Tom‘s the only other vessel sharing the lake.

The air is thick with a singular fragrance, one not experienced in all these many months underway. It is carried to the cockpit by a ten knot so’easterly rolling over the central Florida landscape. It is the unmistakable pungent aroma of moist earth, rich loam somewhere off to port, unseen beyond the levee that lines the south side of the Okeechobee Canal.

There was none of this to start the day, at 0730 when lines were retrieved from dolphins fore-and-aft so Steadfast could head into the Port Mayaca Lock. Once raised 12’, the gates opened and she was out into Lake Okeechobee for a 25-mile crossing to Clewiston. That wind is put to work when the genny’s rolled out, letting Red loaf along at 2000 RPM but keeping speeds (over ground) in the sixes. It also carries soot—big black chunks of it—now and again from field fires on the far off horizon.

Worth noting is the only marker for 20 miles!

The lake is wide enough that smoke from the two or three fires is about all that can be seen on the horizon. Other than water, that is. There is an east-bound hull but otherwise, Steadfast is alone out here. By the time she passes R#6—ten miles out, the only marker on the way across—the lake’s distant eastern bank is no more than a smudge. Despite her size, even at it’s deepest, the lake bed today is only 13 feet below.

Stalking the marsh for a take-out lunch.

Finally, G#7 appears ahead, the next mark just a mile-and-a-half away, the next closer still and so forth until the open lock to Clewiston and Roland Martin’s Marina, just about the only fuel dock between Stuart and Fort Myers.  Her thirst slaked, Red swings back into action and the welcomed fragrance of soil first appears.

The canal from here deepens, first 15 feet, then 18 or 20. It’s a long leg, today’s transit, but the depth makes it more relaxing than some others along the way. There’s a slight delay while the lock fills at Moore Haven to lower Steadfast four feet down to the canal on the other side.

Old Florida is a colorful cottage on the water.

This it is said is the “old Florida,” the Florida of the Fifties maybe. Simple crossroads and towns now and again, cottages of concrete block or plywood siding here and there. But no planned developments, no gated communities. There are birds, even a few black bulls along the shore, but otherwise it’s mile after mile of palms on the steep 20’ banks, marsh grass in the flats.

Then, the sun closing on the coconut palms along the west bank, Steadfast rounds a broad curve and there to starboard is the night’s mooring, again courtesy of the Army Corps of Engineers. Just before the Ortona Lock, another set of dolphins rife with their own pungent aroma, that of creosote.

Two more locks tomorrow, and a couple of bascule bridges to clear, along the 50 or so miles remaining to Fort Myers where it is hoped Steadfast will enjoy the holidays.

Steadfast out.

Sunday, 21 December                                                            39.4 SM

“Just like a real sailboat,” Steadfast sits next to a Hinckley 48.

It’s just about 0800 and Tom-the-Dockmaster leads the way down the ramp and onto the pier.

“Here, we’ll go on this one. You’ve got see at least one Hinckley before you leave.” And with that, bare feet stepped onto the teak swim platform of Chione, a Hinckley Tilaria 48 with a flag blue hull. But then, don’t they all?

“One word,” explains Tom. “Re-sale.”

Go figga. Like any dark color, flag blue is hard to keep clean, shows every little scratch and, on a sunny day, can raise the temperature of the cabin by twenty degrees or so. This would seem to be an issue in sunny Florida but apparently not with the folks who plop down upwards of a million-bucks and more to own a Hinckley. Nine out of ten are flag blue with maybe a dark green thrown in for variety. These owners don’t worry about dirt or scratches—that’s what the Hinckley yard’s for—and when it’s hot, just crank up the A/C.

The Old Roosevelt Bridge opens to let Steadfast pass.

Aboard Steadfast, the warmth of an 80-degree morning is enjoyed to the fullest even as she pulls off the pier. “Have fun,” says Tom, “and make sure to stop on your way back. Not for repairs next time. Just come on in.”

Yep. Say what you may but, from the first phone call, the crew at the Hinckley yard in Stuart has been great to work with. And Manatee Pocket, Port Salerno and Stuart have been a lot of fun. What’s not to like when it’s a sunny 75 everyday?  But Red now seems in good shape, the leak’s been repaired, new fuel tank plumbed and filled. After 988 statute miles on the ICW (or as it was too many days, the Icy-W) it is time to move on across Florida to the Gulf.

It takes a lot of St. Lucie River to lift little Steadfast 14′.

Once past the Pocket’s R#2, it’s left full rudder and Steadfast heads up the St. Lucie River, waits for the Old Roosevelt Bridge to open and, once through, enters the south fork and before long the St. Lucie Canal. There’s a ten-minute interruption while water fills St. Lucie Lock, raising Steadfast fourteen feet up to the Okeechobee Waterway.

From there all the way to the lock at Port Mayaca, its just keep her between the sandy banks covered in lush Florida green. Palms and more palms, all sizes. A bass boat buzzes by. A fifty-foot motor Grand Banks appears ready to overtake but instead turns off to the boat basin at Indian Town.

Not mammals, not Miami’s but “dolphins” nonetheless.

Steadfast motors on alone, right up to the dolphins (bundles of six or eight 16” pilings cabled together and dressed in creosote) that line the north side of the channel just east of the lock.

“That’s what they’re there for, cap’n,” confirms the lockmaster when informed of the intent to tie off there. And that’s where she lies, suspended 35’ aft of one dolphin, 50’ ahead of another. A first for Steadfast and crew, a mooring arrangement most interesting.

Not unlike stepping aboard a Hinckley 48—the “interesting” part, that is—but a heckuva lot less expensive.

Steadfast out.

Sunday, 14 December                                                35.6 SM

Wow! Fe-e-e-e-e-e-l that sun. No wind to speak of. No watch cap, either; no gloves, no coat. Get this – the uniform of the day includes just two (count ‘em, 2) shirts and a single fleece vest. And the vest may not be needed much longer.

It’s warm! Praise the Lord, it is wa-r-r-r-r-r-r-m!

Wow! Now this is Florida. This is what this trip is all about. And with the promise of more sun and higher temperatures, ripping away from Velcro—ahem, that is—Vero Beach is not all that difficult.

Even shallow draft boats need TowBoat if they stray from the channel.

It is difficult to get to the fuel dock, though. It seems The Swarm—boats in the Sail Magazine ICW Rally—has been here a couple of days already and several are tied off, waiting to take on fuel, even before the staff arrives at 0730. Gypsy Wind of Swarm co-leader Wally Moran was the first on, his island dog, Arunda, announcing their arrival. As one peels off, another moves in, until Steadfast has her turn to top-off, pump-out and get underway.

It’s another easy day, Steadfast making good time with the help of a fair current almost as far as Jensen Beach. The only trick is to keep to the channel that seems narrower than ever. It is amazing that as broad as the water is, the waterway in many places has enough room for two boats to pass but not much else. There’s 12’ in the middle, 9’ at the edges and then—oopsie—you’re calling TowBoat.

A pelican keeps watch at the entrance to Manatee Pocket in Port Salerno, next to Stuart.

But Steadfast stays where she’s supposed to, with a helping hand from Ray Marine, the self-styled “Smart Pilot.” This is good. A slip awaits tonight at the Hinckley yard in Port Salerno where a tech tomorrow will take a look at what has become a bothersome leak in the drive train. This on the recommendation of our friends at Zimmerman Marine in Deltaville. Like Zimmerman, Hinckley has a well-deserved reputation for quality work (as seen in the beautiful yachts built at its shops in Maine and Rhode Island).

So Steadfast will slip in there among the mega-yachts and “picnic” boats and get the attention she deserves before turning west and heading to the Okeechobee Waterway, the gateway to Fort Myers and the Gulf Coast. The St. Lucie Inlet and River mark the so-called “Crossroads,” the point at which sailors decide – take the short-cut to Fort Myers, continue south on the ICW or hang a left and head for the Bahamas (the latter a decision which, in truth, might be made at any point from here to Miami).

A 100′ motor yacht lies just up the pier from Steadfast.

It turns out there is much more to Stuart—and adjacent Port Salerno—than just boatyards and being a decision-point. Like Vero, numbers of sailors stop here and don’t leave for a long time, if ever.

It is hoped the visit for Steadfast is brief. As the saying goes, “time is money.”

No where is that more true than at a boat yard.

Also true this day is the thermometer ready – 75 degrees – with a forecast for more of the same the next several days. Yes, friend, warm at last.

Suh-weet!

Steadfast out.

Saturday, 13 December                                                36.8 SM

So she called to the Captain,

With that same old whine.

She said, “I’m still so very cold here. What is with this clime?”

But voices of Snowbirds keep calling from far away,

Wake you up in the middle of the night

When you to hear them say…

There’s plenty of room at the Velcro Beach Marina.

What a lovely place, what a lovely space.

Livin’ it up at the Velcro Beach Marina.

Any time of year, you can find it here. Sung to the tune of Hotel California.

Sure Red still runs but it feels good to raise sail anyway.

That is the goal this day, to make Vero Beach. Not a super long day, just a good stretch of the legs. But Vero, they say, is a “must” harbor. Sheltered anchorage, discount city moorings or, if so inclined, a tidy municipal marina. There’s a free bus that stops by the marina several times a day to take cruisers to Publix, Ace, Waste Marine, whatever a sailor needs. It’s a perfect place to wait for a weather window for a jump to dee I’lons, mon. Such a great place to stop, in fact, some cruisers hate to leave, hence the nickname “Velcro Beach.” You stop there you might get stuck.

Bundled up again this day, it’s cold but at least there’s a bright Florida sun offering a degree-or-two of radiant heat, or so it is hoped. Piloting-wise, this is about as easy as it gets. Straight shot. Almost due south. No wacky turns, tricky currents. As Alan Jackson said to Jimmy Buffett, “Just keep it between the navigational beacons.”

Arrrrrrgh! That  be no plunder for the pirate crew of this ship.

The genny unfurls not long after Steadfast noses out of Eau Gallie and back on the waterway. That northerly still chills the cockpit but it is a big help. Little Red loafs along at an easy-for-her 1,800 RPM but with the genny pulling, speeds over the bottom are 7-plus miles-an-hour. Good stuff.

There’s a “pirate ship” off in the mangrove to starboard, oddly close to the shoal. On closer examination, it’s clear she dragged anchor at some point. Sails hang shredded from the yardarms, no sign of life aboard. Another derelict, dreams gone aground.

A humble home sits not far from pricey condos.

Steadfast motors on, still down the Indian River. She comes alongside Pelican Island Wildlife Refuge, the first such space set aside in the US. The it’s condos and the beach McMansion, all pink and melon, stucco and tile. Then tucked back in the mangroves here and there, a single-story right on the water, owner not goin’ no where.

Vero Beach City Marina is a favorite with frugal cruisers.

Finally, right at the Vero Beach Bridge, there’s a hard turn to port ‘round green 139. Not too close, mind you; it’s shoal there. Up inside, the Cut opens, filled with all manner of cruising vessel. Some anchored, many moored, others on the city docks. Crews gather on the pier, at the laundry or bathhouse. “The Swarm,” the Sail Magazine ICW Rally is here, all 20 boats and crews with fearless co-leaders Wally Moran and Mark and Diana Doyle (God love ’em).

They’ve been here several days, already, ‘cause it is Velcro Beach. Good stuff. Tough to leave.

Cruisers’ minds are twisted, like a pretzel bends.

Talk of pretty, pretty isles and all their friends.

How they talk in the courtyard, hoping soon to sweat.

Some sail to remember,

Some sail to forget.

Last thing I remember, I was

Running for the dink.

Had to find my way back to the boat,

Not fall in the drink.

“Relax,” said the dock boy. “We are here to receive.

You can check out any time you’d like, but

You’ll never want to leave.”

That’s the way at the Velcro Beach Marina.

What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise), bring your alibis.

Livin’ it up at the Velcro Beach Marina.

Any kind of gear, you can find it here!

Friday, 12 December                                                                                    37.2 SM

It doesn’t feel like it but the heading is correct.

Some days, there’s just not a lot to report. No remarkable photo ops. No unexpected adventures. Just miles and hours of moving farther south.

This is good. And this is the case with this day. Not much out of the “Florida” ordinary, although thick clouds cast a gloom that would not meet the approval of the tourist bureau. Decidedly un-Floridian.

The NASA Space Museum includes a space shuttle.

Steadfast pulled out of Titusville and back into the waterway at 0925, slipped under the highrise and was on her way back down the Indian River. The NASA Causeway Bridge was the only span to contend with today. The others all were of the ersatz 65’ variety, although judging from the clearance boards, you wouldn’t want to transit today with a mast that’s 64’. Something’s gotta give and it’s generally not the bridge.

Fishing Eau Gallie Creek draws a crowd.

Not much traffic. Three or four southbound boats passed (don’t they all?), CG Auxiliary buzzed by and that’s about it. For six hours.

The Indian is wide yet remarkably shallow. The waterway’s controlling depth is 12’. Readings most of the day were 10 or 11 but stray out of the ICW and it quickly shoals to four, three feet or less. Lots of catamarans along the shores. That or derelicts. And on the shores, big homes. None of that “fish camp” stuff. Merritt Island to the east; Palm Shores, Cocoa, etc. to the west. Big yards, big homes.

On to Eau Gallie. There’s no definitive explanation for the origin of the name. “Eau,” we know, is French for water. That much makes sense (except pronounced locally as “you” not the French “oh”). “Gallie?” Maybe corruption of “Gallic?”

Eau Gallie’s oldest house was built in 1902 by businessman John Rostetter.

Who cares? Whatever, it’s an intriguing spot. There’s a long narrow seven-foot channel that snakes in from the river, around a bend and—boom—there’s the basin. Wooden fixed piers, several liveaboards and a couple of boats in the soon-to-be-derelict category.  If you want a slip—overnight lows still are forecast in the low 40s—call Karen, the canvas lady. (Go figga. Not the marina, mind you. The canvas lady.) Buck a foot, 30-amp included. Cash or check only. Gotta luv it.

Kinda like a day with not a lot to report. Gotta luv it.

Steadfast out.

Thursday, 11 December                                                            32.6 SM

Forty-seven degrees doesn’t sound so bad this morning, not to anyone awaking north of the Carolinas. In Mathews, Virginia, for instance, it’s freezing, as in thirty-two degrees. And it’ll be 47-degrees out on the Chesapeake someday soon when some (fool) skipper goes out for a daysail. And enjoys it! But there should not be much debate that on a boat on the water, 47-degrees is chill-eeee.

A long line of traffic leads the way southward.

Forty-seven, as you may have discerned, is the temperature as Steadfast pulls away from the pier this morning and noses out into the waterway. Sunny, mind you, a sun that burns with a bright enticement to every Snowbird underway today, keep moving south.

The chill comes from a northerly breeze of ten or so knots, with a puff now and again that’s enough to make one check to be sure his collar’s pulled all the way up, the watchcap all the way down. It’s also enough to coax out the genny and pull the boat along a half-a-knot faster. Faster is good. And since this is an area with no tide, there’s no tidal current. Whatever way you make, you make.

Florida has a real problem with “homeless” boats.

This stretch of the Indian River is fairly narrow, less than a quarter-mile mostly between the mainland to starboard and a series of small islands covered in palms and plopped randomly along the way. There’s a “fish camp” or two, a boat ramp and a string of humble one-stories that probably date to the 50s.  And for a change, there’s a steady stream of Snowbirds passing by, making the route even easier to follow.

The Indian River is lined with what look like little desert isles.

The ICW then runs down Mosquito Lagoon about 12 miles, pretty much a straight shot all the way to the hard right into Haulover Canal. The bascule bridge opens and Steadfast then is back into the Indian but with the wind—and waves—on the beam, it’s not all that pleasant. It’s almost five miles of a short chop across to where the waterway again turns southward and the wind once again is off the starboard quarter. Ahhhh. Better.

There’s a friendly welcome and good-bye at the city marina.

The city of Titusville’s built a nifty marina, tucked into a quiet basin behind breakwaters and all but surrounded by park. There’s fuel, pumpout, ice, a small ship’s store and it’s not far into town. So pretty much everything a sailor needs right there.

And, out of the wind, it’s warmer, too.

Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 10 December                                                            43.2 SM

Steadfast goes nowhere without “On the Water Chart Guide.”

It appeared the highlight of the day would be chatting with the skipper of Semi-Local, the power catamaran that passed Steadfast about 1030. Not that it’s unusual that a power cat would pass Steadfast. After all, ev-v-v-v-erybody passes Steadfast. No. What makes this notable is it’s Semi-Local, the “home office” of Diana and Mark Doyle, editors of the world-famous “On the Water Cruising Guides.” Along with the books, Mark and Diana are key persona of the now-annual Hampton Snowbird Rendezvous, a three-day seminar that’s now a “must do” for anyone plotting this endeavor. Likewise, their publications—hard copy or on-line—are, at the risk of hyperbole, indispensable to anyone who does The Ditch. They’re great!

Empty boosters go by at New Smyrna.

So that was fun, seeing Diana and Mark motor past, ever so slowly, and swap a few notes of their current role co-leading the Sail Magazine ICW Rally headed to Miami. Check out that blog on line.

From there, it was pretty much just stay in the middle. Keep ‘er between the banks. All the way down to the turn off to New Smyrna Beach. Then, Steadfast pulls off the ICW at the NSB boat basin just before a pair of tugs—one towing the other pushing—coax around the curve a big barge loaded with the boosters from NASA’s latest launch. Now, that’s interesting. One just doesn’t see Mars launcher boosters every day. Not in Hallieford, at least.

Josie takes time at Half Wall to visit with a couple of Dad’s friends.

Then, with her once settled in her slip and on a walk into town, there was the introduction to Josie, daughter of our Com-Pac friend Bob up in frigid New Jersey. She works at The Half-Wall, a brew pub just a few blocks up from the waterfront that boasts something on the order of 80 different craft brews from all over the country. It was great fun meeting her and, thus, fulfilling Bob’s request (the fish-and-chips are good, too). Josie’s a charmer, just like her dad! But then, stepping out into the December evening, it became apparent that the rest was just prelude. The day’s true highlight—or perhaps, more accurately, highlights—sparkled above in the palms that line Canal Street. Downtown New Smyrna is something to behold this time of year, bedecked as she is in ways a non-Floridian just can’t conceive.

These qualify as highlights by any measure!

Christmas lights illuminate the palm fronds that spread high above Canal Street. Now those, friends, are high lights! Steadfast out.