Port Mayaca

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.