Posts in category: ICW

Sunday June 7, 2015

Yesterday morning we were out of LaBelle almost with the sunrise in hopes that we may actually make it to the delivery point by nightfall. It was a measly 40 miles from where we stood until the Gulf, but the extra run up the coast to Punta Gorda had us a little unsure.  Once we passed the Franklin Lock at mile 121 there was nothing keeping us back other than the setting sun.  The only issue is without guided mile markers from that point on and doubts of the actual miles from Cape Coral to Punta Gorda, we didn’t know if we could beat it.

Matt had woken up feeling a little under the weather and as soon as we had backed out of our space at the free docks and had all lines back inside, I sent him off to bed.  I didn’t mind having to handle the boat myself for a few hours though, since shame on me, I didn’t want to share the last Donut Stick with him anyway.  Having him down below slumbering ensured I would have it to myself, and trust me, I took full advantage of the sugary situation.  Activating the autopilot on a straightaway I ran below to fix myself a blueberry crumble latte using my AeroPress (can not rave enough about this thing) and once again set the stereo up to play some Florence and the Machine while I enjoyed a quiet morning to myself on the water.

I knew I had a few hours before we came up on our first lift bridge and thought maybe Matt would be up and about by that time. As we came within a half mile though and he was still dead to the world under a heap of blankets I began to stress just a little as holding the boat in place under current has never been my strong suit and I normally hand the wheel over to Matt while I handle the radio.  But…maybe it was possible to do it all on my own.  Getting within a half mile I put the autopilot back on to quickly run below deck and radio ahead that I would need passage in about 5 minutes.  Getting the all clear that they would lift the bridge as I came up to it, I went back behind the wheel to slow our speed and time it just right with the opening. It turns out I may have slowed us just a little too much as they ended up waiting for me after closing the road to thru traffic, but hey, at least I didn’t end up with our mast smashed into any thing.  That is always a success in my book.

With another one coming up five more miles down the river, I hoped Matt would be sleeping still so I could once again prove myself and maybe not hold up the bridge tender and impatient motorist so much this time.  Through the next three bridges I did get better each time and I happily waved to each tender as I passed through and radioed my thanks every time I was clear, each time wondering if they thought to themselves ‘This girl is on a boat by herself?  Good for her’.

Little did they know I just had an apparently very ill husband below deck. Although I could totally handle this boat by myself now.  Except in the locks…that one area I did wake Matt up to give me a hand since even though I am proud of my new confidence behind the wheel while approaching immobile objects, I did not want to show up to deliver the boat with scratched all down the side because I misjudged the speed or my depth perception was off, or any number of things that could cause me to harshly bump against the concrete side.

With that task done Matt was back in bed and I was only an hour away from entering the city of Fort Meyers.  Making my second blueberry crumble latte of the day I settled back behind the wheel while Matt settled back into bed with what he was afraid might be the flu.  Not a fun time for him to get sick, but at least this was just easy ICW days with rest stops at night and not like when he had the flu on our Azores to Maderia passage where he was forced to go on shift every 4 hours for 9 days and could barely keep himself awake. I was completely ok taking on a full day of travel myself though and had no qualms with him staying in bed as long as he needed to in order to feel better.

Just as we began to pass the skyscrapers of the city and enter larger bodies of water, it was very evident that some very strong storms were on their way toward us. It was one of those situations where you’re under bright blue skies but just off to your side it’s as dark as night and rumbles of thunder echo through the air.  For the longest time I was thinking we might get by unscathed, everything passing just to the side of us, but unfortunately it kept coming closer.  Just as I was able to get all the hatches and ports closed the wind jumped up from 10 knots to 25.

This obviously wasn’t a bother as we had no sail up and were in a protected waterway.  We would not be left completely untouched though.  Minutes later the winds jumped up into the 40’s and along with it came the driving rain.  The kind that is so bad you can barely see 50 feet in front of you.  All of a sudden my worried turned into oncoming traffic on the water or missing a buoy and finding myself outside of the channel and in the 3 feet of water surrounding us.  My only hopes were that other boaters could make out our nav lights if I couldn’t see theirs, and that our charts were spot on with the markers out there.

And then came Murphy’s Law.  A large motor catamaran came up behind us trying to outrun the storm and threw up a huge wake which in collaboration with the waves, left us rocking very violently side to side.  Truly not a big deal on it’s own, but we were quite low on fuel at the time and this little trick will sometimes kick up sediment from the bottom and cause the engine to cut out until everything has settled back down.  Which of course it did to me right now.  With gale force winds blowing us into the shallows immediately outside the channel.

I had a few minutes to work with the engine before we were too far from saving or before I had to go through the trouble of trying to unfurl the genoa just the right amount to sail ourselves out if need be.  I’ve worked with it in those force winds on our Atlantic crossing though and it takes a very strong arm to keep the wind from grabbing onto the sail and unfurling the full thing, forcing you to round up into the wind just to get it back in.  With already impeded speed and being forced sideways, rounding up was not looking like a good option if need be.  Instead I would most likely find myself running and straight into a sandbar. Luckily the 6th time is a charm and just as I was about to give up, the engine roared to life and stayed on.  I no longer cared about the pounding rain coming down on me, and even had Matt make me a glass of hot chocolate to raise my spirits as I continued to steer through the finally dying storm.

 After another hour or two the storm left us completely and left us with overcast skies in it’s wake.  By this point I was now fully exhausted as well and it was only 3 in the afternoon.  We were just coming up on Coral Gables and I was in no mood to push myself all night just to make it to the marina.  All I wanted was a place to anchor and fall deeply asleep.  Consulting our Waterway Guide Southern we looked for a place to drop hook within the next 10 miles.  It was so lucky we had this or else we would have been completely for a loss of possible anchorages along the way.  Also getting the down low on Pine Island Sound we were able to find out that the inside channel was mostly meant for small boats or those with local knowledge.  It looked as if we would be taking the long way around.

Treating myself to one of my last Costa Rican beers I put the ‘Dip on autopilot as as soon as we hit the sound and counted down the minutes until we could drop hook.  Some dolphins kept me company along the way and just before 6 we were once again still and I was right next to Matt in bed, not caring if dinner didn’t get served until 9, because I absolutely had to have a nap.

This morning we woke to beautiful sunny skies and what should have been a very pleasurable and relaxing last few hours on Serendipity, but it was anything but. Yesterday was supposed to be our full clean down of the boat so we could hand her off in tip top shape, but as Matt was sick in bed and I was behind the wheel, there had been no time during the day and both of us were too tired in the evening.

Since Matt was still feeling a little under the weather it was decided that he would stay out in the cockpit since we could still keep the boat on autopilot now that we had a larger body of water to travel through, and I would go through packing up all of our remaining items as well as give everything one last scrub down.  There was still surprisingly 20 miles to go which left me about 4 hours to get everything sparkling once more.  It still amazes me how fast one can get a place dirty just by occupying it.

Amidst all the cleaning I would try and take small breaks to let myself not only enjoy all the stupendous beauty of Charlotte Harbor, but to treat myself to all the last little items in the fridge that I had been saving for our trip.  The last bit of Amish cheese, a small glass of red wine, and real brand name Pepsi.  Not that $0.84 Sam’s Cola that we’ve been living on for the last three months now.  But the work was more than I imagined and snack times were few and far between. Now that I look back at it I’m not even upset that I didn’t get to enjoy all my treats.  I’m just sad I didn’t get to sit out in the cockpit of the ‘Dip one last time and enjoy all the sights around me.  This place truly seemed to be a sailor’s dream inside the US.

Pulling up to the marina just after noon we had all of our belongings packed up and every surface shining. Meeting up with the new owner we gave him a full run down of Serendipity and her systems before moving all our things off and signing the final paperwork.  And just like that, she wasn’t ours anymore. Ready for a new keeper and new adventures. For as many wonderful times and adventures we had ourselves, I was prepared to let her go.  She’d done her job and served us well. But that part of our lives is now done and we have our own new adventures to start without her.  Not that we won’t always hold a special place for her in our hearts though. Nothing can replace your first boat love.

Sunday March 10, 2013 I should probably explain our rush to you, or why we’re not stopping to experience Florida more than a quick trip to shore to get some nuts and bolts from Home Depot, or buy the Big Box from Pizza Hut, with enough pizza to feed us for a week.  There are two very simple answers.  1.  After spending three months in St. Augustine, we feel we have experienced Florida enough.  It may not have had the interesting sights of the Space Coast, or the warm sunny beaches of the Treasure Coast, but we’re ok with that.  What we want now are white sandy beaches with clear snorkel worthy water, teaming with brightly colored fish for us to look at.  2.  We’ve been keeping a close eye on the weather since before we left St. Augustine, and there is a window to cross the Gulf Stream and get to the Bahamas on Tuesday.  There is no way we’re going to let ourselves miss that chance by running slow.  We figured that we could get ourselves to Lake Worth by Sunday, run errands and stock up on any last minute items on Monday, and then be ready to leave on Tuesday morning, for a run over to the Berry Islands or maybe even Nassau.  And that also means getting ourselves close to being back on schedule, and possibly even meeting up with our friends.

As today was the last day of running down the ICW, both of us could not be happier to finally be done with it.  Maybe it’s our Great Lakes upbringing where you set a course, hit the autopilot, and just keep an eye out for the boats around you, but we were not meant for these little channels that require meticulous attention to your course every single moment.  One person has to be behind the wheel at all times, either hand steering or (as Matt does) adjust the autopilot every 15 seconds.  Not to mention that the channels down here have been much narrower than I remember them in the north, barely allowing for any error outside of the red and green markers.  Call us un-attentive, but we prefer to sit back and just crane our heads in a circle every 10-15 minutes with an update of “All clear!”.* ** There were only 50 statute miles to cover today, which with the 12 or so daylight hours we’re getting now, was to put us at our anchorage a few hours before sunset and give us a chance to relax instead of just eating dinner and going to bed.  For the first half of the day there wasn’t much to see around us, but there was a lot of chatter on channel 16.  Lots of radio checks, which get very annoying (channel 26 or 27 people!!), but there were also a fun few minutes listening to a couple boaters talk about the conditions of nearby inlets and the conditions outside.  Our forecast upon leaving St. Augustine showed constant winds in the 25-30 knot range, which is why hypocritical us are taking the ICW instead of jumping outside.  Listening to the men talk on the radio, they regaled tales of wind and waves on the Atlantic, and how chances were that if you were lucky enough to make it out of an inlet that morning, then good luck on getting back in between the rolling and crashing waves.  I think I will stick with monotony at this point, thank you very much.  There were also a few dinghy (Laser?) races going on at several points along the way for us to momentarily enjoy, so it wasn’t all bad.

Although we were finally making progress south and I was counting each minute on the latitude still and checking weather channel updates for current temperatures just to make sure we were in an area that’s warmer than we were the day before, there have still been plenty of high winds on this journey, forcing us into more layers than we’d like.  Although each day we seem to be able to shed one of those layers, today that brought me down to two layers top and on the bottom still.  Which is why I was surprised that while entering the city of Jupiter and traveling through it, to see so many people out on the water in only their swimsuits.  It may have been 75 degrees out, but the winds were blowing off the still cool water at 20 knots and still leaving me shivering a little whenever I wasn’t behind the protection of the dodger.  Has my blood really thinned that much in the past few months?  I’m a Michigander, I should be able to sport a swimsuit in 60 degree weather.  In fact, I think I just did that at my parent’s house a few months ago. Eventually the winds calmed as the channel narrowed and all the mansions towering up from Hobe Sound helped to block them.  It allowed me to take off one of those extra layers, although part of it was just to appease a few friends that had already started to tease me after a post on Facebook.

Forcing Matt to take the wheel for a bit since we were in the last run of lift bridges before our anchorage, I was even able to sit back behind the protection of the dodger with the sun pouring on me and enjoy a glass of wine.  Time started to fly a little faster and before I knew it we were under our last bridge and only had a mile until our anchorage.  Just after we were about to turn off the ICW and head up the channel to where we needed to be we both happened to be looking up at just the same time to see something jump out of the water.  We’d seen one or two fish do that before, but this was something much better.  It was a stingray!  Who knew those even jumped?  It was a fairly small one and was only out of the water for a few seconds, but I never took them for being show-offs.  I think we may finally have something over our friends Brian and Stephanie on Rode Trip, who normally can pick wildlife out of the most obscure places where we never usually see the things that are right in front of our faces.

*If our entire goal was only to travel the Eastern Seaboard, I’m sure we’d have a much different opinion of the ICW.  There are a lot of really nice towns along the way, and if you only limit yourself to traveling short distances I’m sure that you’d avoid the monotony that comes of it, which is comparable to doing highway driving day after day after day.

** The only time we don’t give constant attention to our course in open waters where the only thing to look out for is other boats.  We pay close attention when necessary to avoid any other obstacles that may come up.

Saturday March 9, 2013

Our second day of traveling put us right in front of a barge when we left our anchorage, and also much closer than we thought to our first lift bridge. Even though we were a good half mile in front of the barge, the bridge tender ask that we wait off to the side until the barge had passed under the bridge, and then we could follow him. Obliging, we stepped in line behind the barge, ready for it to take off at 10-15 knots as soon as it was clear, since that’s what they always seem to do. Not the case on this one. We had already only been traveling at 2000 rpms and had to back it down to 1800 behind this guy. It was a good thing the currents had picked up and we were still traveling at close to six knots, or else we would have been pulling our hair out getting stuck at such slow speeds first thing in the morning.

 We tailed the barge for the good part of five hours, always waiting for an opportunity to pass but one never came. In the area we were traveling through, although the waterway itself was quite wide, the channel was very narrow with 2-4 foot depths on each side. Trying to pass him in most areas meant a very good chance of running around. So we accepted our 5.5-6 knots and kept our eyes out for an opportunity. Finally one presented itself after we had gone under yet another lift bridge and the channel widened out in a straightaway. Calling them on the VHF, we gave our intentions to pass them on their port side, and while they gave their permission for this, did not sound too happy that they’d have to temporarily slow down while we passed. Making it past them in just under two minutes and wary for a moment that we might have to play chicken with a northbound sailboat heading our direction, we slid in front of the barge keeping our speed on full. It wasn’t until we had gotten just in front of them that I realized our Waterway Guide showed yet another lift bridge just two miles ahead of us, and we were worried that once again we’d be pushed to the side while they passed through first. Luckily, upon closer inspection, I read that this was a lift bridge for a railway and was only down if there was a train coming. We still had eight miles to put the barge behind us and hope he didn’t catch up.

Eventually leaving him in our dust, we took a look at Florida’s Space Coast surrounding us. We were still a ways in from the ocean and couldn’t make out any sights there, but what we did see off in the distance was the Kennedy Space Center. Barely making forms from the haze, we could see the launch pad and control tower. It would have been a fun place to stop and visit, but we had a schedule to keep and needed to get south ASAP. Keeping our engine running high until we had crossed under the last lift bridge for the day, we scoured Skipper Bob’s and our Waterway Guide for a suitable anchorage that night in Coco. We ended up getting there quite early, around 3:30, and if we didn’t have errands to run around town we could have made it another 15-20 miles south. But after a stripped bolt and a leaking packing box, a stop at Home Depot was needed to replenish some supplies. At least we had made it three days this time without visiting one instead of the normal two.

Today there wasn’t much happening on the water.  There were areas it turned from a murky brown to a brilliant blue green, and it made me smile thinking we were that much closer to the Bahamas.  With a little wind off our port side, we were able to unfurl the headsail and do a good bit of motor-sailing through the day.  The intended anchorage for the night was Fort Pierce, and I wanted nothing more than a little extra speed to get us there early and give us a little time to relax.  You could definitely tell it was a weekend since there were power boats galore out, speeding past and throwing up huge wakes that we had to turn into to keep from viciously rolling from side to side.  There were a few nice ones though too, that would slow their boat just before they got to us to allow their wake to fall off.  Looking back at it, I think the worst offenders for throwing off the big wakes were Sabre power boat owners.  Not only would they fly by at 30 knots, but it’s almost like they wanted to play a game of chicken and see how close they could get without hitting us.  Damn Sabre owners.  Someone needs to lock them up.

A really crappy shot of the Kennedy Space Center.

Thursday March 7, 2013

We did not leave yesterday.  Our grand plans to push off the dock and begin heading south again were once more foiled, this time by high winds. Not only were they blowing at over 30 knots constantly through the night and into the morning, but they were pinning us directly against our dock. To leave under conditions like that would be hard for even an experienced sailor, and we’ve been out of the game for three months. We had the alarm set for 6 am anyway, ready to check the conditions again when we woke up, but I had been up since 3, listening to the winds howl outside and push our boat on it’s side toward the dock. As soon as the harps sounded and Matt rolled over to look at me, we didn’t even have to have a conversation. “Back to bed?”, he asked? Getting interrupted by a loud whistle and a rock to the side I agreed, “Uh huh”. Knowing that we would not have to try and fight wind and currents that day and end up worse than the catamaran next to us, the knot in my stomach unraveled and I was able to fall back to sleep.

 Trying to keep from having the staff see us and charge another night at dock (you never heard this Claire), we thought the best thing to do for the day was lay low and not leave the boat during business hours. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Besides, conditions were so bad that the travel lift wasn’t operating which meant that there were no other boats that would be needed our spot anyway. The yard was virtually resembling a ghost town, so we didn’t think it would be a big deal that we were occupying our spot for one more night. Picking up on a wifi signal much closer (thanks, ‘Boat’), I was able to get more work done and keep myself entertained. Matt….was probably on Cruisers Forums or Yacht World again. Disappointed that we were dock locked just as we were finally ready to leave, it wasn’t all bad. I wasn’t a nervous wreck that we were going to crash the boat, I ended up finishing some much needed work online as well as got to have one more night to message my friends back home, and best of all. One last hot shower. It may have lasted over 20 minutes, but considering all the water I’ll be saving in the near future, I figured it was worth the splurge.

Setting the alarm for 6 am once again, this time when the harps went off we were both raring to go. What we had not been expecting, after all our weeks of sleeping in until after 9, is how cold out it is at 6 am. The temperatures hadn’t even hit 40 degrees yet. Just like our travels down the ICW months earlier, we bundled in as many layers as possible, each managing to slide into long underwear, athletic pants, and then jeans on our bottom halves. Turning the marine engine mounts on and letting it warm up for a few minutes, we discussed our exit strategy. What we wanted to do is walk the boat back to the edge of the dock, and while I kept a loose hand on the line wrapped around the dock cleat near the bow, Matt would push us out in hopes that the current which was now flowing out of the river, would catch the bow and turn us around. All things were looking good to start, but right when the bow should have been turning away from the dock it would begin to come back. After two attempts at this with the same results, we realized we’d have to motor ahead and turn around once we were away from the dock. Giving one last push, Matt jumped on and behind the wheel. I still stood at my post near the bow, ready to fend ourselves off the dock if necessary, but with a little power behind us we were able to move forward with ease and get ourselves turned around.

What a feeling to finally be moving again. I stood up on deck with a dopey grin on my face, passing by all the boats at dock and waving to the ones who were already up and about. Then picking up all fenders and wrapping up dock lines, don’t want an issue with lines in the water again, I joined Matt in the cockpit where we watched our river merge with the ICW, and watched St. Augustine disappear behind us. Hoping to get a few last sentimental photos of the town, we were too far away to make out anything distinguishable, and so I just set my eyes to all the new sights ahead. It wasn’t long before we got to our first lift bridge, one of seven that day, and went through with ease. The bridge tender was curtious and had the bridge open before we even got there. I was worried that coming up on so many lift bridges would put us behind our goal of squeaking past Daytona Beach that night, but if they were all as easy as this it didn’t look like it was going to be an issue.

Going below, I made some coffee in our french press that would warm us up a little above deck, but I also wanted to check to see how Georige. As soon as the engine was thrown on that morning she went running for cover under the covers of our bed, and we hadn’t seen her since. Still not seeing anything when I peeked in the v-berth, I called her name until a little rustle under the sheets sent two wide eyes peering up at me. Other than being a little scared and confused, she seemed to be doing fine and I left her to adjust by herself. As the day grew on, Matt eventually pulled her out from under the covers and stuffed her into his jacket to bring her out in the cockpit for a bit. It didn’t take long for her senses to go wild, wanting to check out all the new sights and smells and she roamed the cockpit, still sure not to venture any further than it. She was doing really well for a long time until something scared her, possibly a wake from a passing boat, and sent her rushing to her old hiding spot under the combing where we store winch handles and sail ties.

We continued to motor south, and every twenty minutes or so I’d look at the latitude on the chartplotter, watching the minutes fall. It was almost as if I had to prove to myself that we were actually heading away from St. Augustine, and in the right direction. I didn’t want to have it all be a dream, and wake up still on the hard with weeks of projects still remaining. Every bridge we passed under, I’d check against our Waterway Guide for mileage that we had done and what we still had left to go for the day. I’d try to judge the approximate time we’d get to the next lift bridge, and when we were coming up to one of the last ones of the day I was excited that we were ahead of schedule. By this point we had actually fallen behind another sailboat heading south and assumed he had made the call in to lift the bridge. Having forgot to change the VHF to channel 9 until we were right at the bridge, we thought it would be rude to call in a second request if someone had supposedly just done it five minutes before us. We arrived there a few minutes after 1:00, and when we sat for 10 minutes waiting for it to open, we assumed it only opened on the half hour and continued to wait.

At 1:40 the bridge had still not opened, and we thought ‘Oh, it must only be on the hour. What a shame that we only missed it by a few minutes last time’, and we continued to wait. At 2:10 the bridge had still not opened and we were growing impatient. We had been waiting for over an hour now, there’s no reason it should have stayed closed this whole time. Finally getting on the radio I called the bridge tender to see what the hold up was. He came back stating that there was currently construction being done, and he could not open until the barges in the water were finished for the day, and had moved out of the way of passing traffic. “Probably around 3:30”, he responded. By this time we were almost fuming. Not only had we wasted an hour motoring in front of this bridge, constantly reversing so the current didn’t throw us into it, but now we’d have to wait an hour an a half more. Throwing up my arms I turned to Matt, “We may as well just anchor off to the side, there’s no reason to keep motoring around until they open”. It was also now clear that the sailboat that had beat us to the bridge must have been relying on our call, having never made one himself, since at the same time, he turned around and began to motor north up the ICW as well. Now I know, never trust that anyone else is going to take care of business for you.

We dropped anchor just off to the side of the channel and began our wait in more relative comfort. Turning back to check on the other boat, he appeared to be stuck, water churning up around him but with no forward or backward motion. Hailing him on the VHF he confirmed that he had run aground, and after we offered to put down our dink to tow him off, he declined and said there was slight movement and he was going to work on it for awhile. We told him we’d be standing by if he needed us. Going to the dishes that were now stacking up in the sink, I constantly peered out the window to keep an eye on him, and sure enough he was off in a matter of minutes. Joining the two of us, a southbound catamaran crept up to the bridge as well and we waited to hear his reaction when he was told what the wait time was. It was only moments after he was told that he’d be stuck in that spot for at least another hour when either the bridge tender or one of the barge operators came on the radio and said “If you’re all looking to pass through here, we can temporarily move the barges out of the way for you to be able to pass”. Whaaa??!! What was any other reason that we’d be out here?! Did they think that we were all tipped off that this ONE spot was the best place on the ICW to watch a sun set, and we all wanted to stick around on the north side of the bridge until it was down? Enjoying sundowners and laughing at all the imbeciles that actually used this waterway to move from one location to another?

Giving Matt the ‘let’s go’ signal (or was it the ’round up’?, I may have given the incorrect one), I ushered him towards the bow to begin bringing up the anchor while I inched Serendipity closer to it. Before it was even all the way up, the bridge was now open and our fellow cruisers were passing under it. Handing the wheel back over to Matt he threw it in full and we hurried to catch up. Barely backing down on it once we had passed under, we tried to keep our speed up since we had now just lost over an hour sitting around. Daytona Beach we could still make, but we were aiming for the Ponce De Leon Inlet about 12 miles south, and now that was becoming a stretch. Pushing on and pushing on, we lost the catamaran to an anchorage in Daytona Beach, and the other sailboat shortly after. We kept looking at the sky and then at the clock, hoping we’d get to our intended anchorage with at least enough light to safely get the anchor down. It ended up coming down to just that, and minutes after the sun had gone down and hints of midnight blue crept over the eastern horizon, our anchor was down, nestled in a little creek just across from the inlet. So far, everything was right on place from where it had been the last time we were cruising. Getting up at the crack of dawn and piling on as many layers as possible while sitting out in the biting cold, boats running around in the middle of channels, and getting to your destination just after the sun has gone down. It looks like everything is just as we left it.

I wish I could say we enjoyed our first night back at anchor in peace, grilling up a nice dinner and enjoying a beer in the cockpit, but there was work yet to be done. For the next three hours we went between jobs, and stuffed down a few hot dogs in the process. Matt was back to work in the lazarette, checking the stuffing box and trying to pinpoint where a small leak was dripping water into our bilge. We think it was from a packing gland, and after working at it for an hour, think we have the problem fixed. After that it was onto engine projects. Checking the oil, changing the coolant, and so on. It should have been a quick enough project, still leaving us with an hour or two to enjoy the night, but a bolt was accidentally stripped while being tightened, and this meant that multiple parts of the engine had to be taken apart and reassembled. I shouldn’t complain since I was only the ‘tool fetcher’ or ‘step holder’ (to allow access to the engine), but once everything was cleaned up for the night I was still exhausted and ready to pass out in bed. Another 6 am morning tomorrow to get in as many miles as possible. After all, there is no rest for the weary.

See ya later St. Augustine Marine Center!

The engine is on, Retreat!!

Not a shabby little anchorage.