At first light on January 11, 2005, we will slip lines and depart on the first leg of
our voyage.
For the past year, while we prepped her for our trip, Dakota Rose has been tied up in
the Camachee Cove Marina, on Camachee Island, fronting the Tomatillo River section
of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, about two miles north of the historic Bridge of
Lions in Saint Augustine, Florida.
our voyage.
For the past year, while we prepped her for our trip, Dakota Rose has been tied up in
the Camachee Cove Marina, on Camachee Island, fronting the Tomatillo River section
of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, about two miles north of the historic Bridge of
Lions in Saint Augustine, Florida.
Camachee Island (which the locals, for some reason, pronounce “Comanche,” like the Indians) is a self-contained little
maritime community, with the marina, a boatyard, chandler, shopping, residences, spa and restaurants. It is home to
the St. Augustine Yacht Club and the Northeast Florida Marlin Association. The fleet of the latter comprises a collection
of fish-killing technology the likes of which we've never before seen amassed in one location. Multimillion dollar
behemoths of sparkling white fiberglass and gleaming stainless steel lined up cheek-by-jowl, like battleship row in Pearl
Harbor, their sleek lines making them seem to strain at their mooring lines to go forth and do battle with the Atlantic
gamefish … outriggers towering into the sky, state-of-the-art electronics (so necessary to outwit their crafty prey),
bristling with poles and tackle, their ultra-macho fighting chairs (with integral beer can holders) beckoning us to plop
ourselves down for a quick trim and shave.
On the landward side, Camachee is separated by oyster flats from the renowned Florida School for the Deaf and Blind,
the alma mater of Ray Charles. In spite of its name, students really don’t have to be both. While we suggested to them
that they should, more properly, call themselves the Florida School for the Deaf and/or Blind, they either didn’t hear us
or just didn’t notice that their signs needed changing.
These last couple of months have been crowded here in Camachee, as boats from parts north assemble for their final
preparations prior to the annual Bahamas migration. It’s very similar to Baja-Ha-Ha in spirit and camaraderie. From
here, the big powerboats will take a day to speed south along the Florida coast, then turn left for the hop over to the
islands. We, of course, will proceed in a much more leisurely – dare we say, stately – fashion, taking four or five days
to work our way down to Fort Lauderdale before we cross the Gulf Stream to Bimini.
St. Augustine is, of course, America’s oldest city, first settled by the Spanish in the early 1500’s. Their original fort still
stands, with a commanding view of the ocean inlet, cannons aimed and ready to repel French and/or English invaders
(or even, possibly, the aforementioned gamefish, if they ever think to organize and fight back more than one at a time).
On our daysails around the harbor we’ve spotted dolphin, sea turtles, manatee, and lots and lots of mud flats …
though, as far as the mud flats go, we never really “spotted” them as much as we “ran across” them with our state-of-
the-art depthfinding gear … also known as our “keel.” St. Augustine has many, many tourist attractions, including the
Alligator Farm, Ripley’s Believe-it-or-Not Museum, the old Lighthouse, a quaint downtown chock-a-block with quaint
Bed and Breakfasts (“Beds and Breakfast”?), the San Sebastion Winery, Flagler College, an exciting nightclub scene
that rocks until 10 pm, and so much more. We must admit that we visited Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth with more
than a little excitement and anticipation, but, to be honest, Steve's hair is still graying.
We bought our Beneteau a little more than a year ago, coming out of Moorings charter in the British Virgin Islands. In
November, 2003, our great friend and fellow Coronado Yacht Club member Frank Hafner, Steve, and three paid crew
sailed Dakota Rose from the BVI to St. Augustine. Eight days of around-the-clock sailing – without benefit of autopilot,
chartplotter, or even much sleep – got them to landfall at Cape Canaveral, followed by two days motoring up the ICW.
Rather than go into this trip in more detail, we’ll leave it as an available topic for the next time you run into Frank at the
Club and fall into one of those disquieting conversational lulls … just make sure you ask him about the reef they almost
ran aground on in the Old Bahamas Channel, and the cruise ship that almost collided with them at 3 am (Steve: "hey
… we were under sail … we had the damned right-of-way!")
On a personal note … while she’s been in St. Augustine, Dakota Rose has been cared for by Capt. Pam Lendzion,
charter sailboat skipper, proprietor of St. Augustine Yacht Management and Operations Manager at the St. Augustine
Boatyard. Simply put, Pam loves sailboats, and she has been indispensable. She helped bring Dakota Rose through
Charlie, Frances, Jeanne and Ivan without a scratch, rode herd over various repairers and installers, and has provided
invaluable advice about our upcoming cruise. She is smart, caring, eclectic and fun, and our appreciation of everything
she’s done for us knows no bounds. If anyone reading this is dumb enough to do what we did and buy a second boat
on the east coast, well, she’s the one to take care of it for you!
maritime community, with the marina, a boatyard, chandler, shopping, residences, spa and restaurants. It is home to
the St. Augustine Yacht Club and the Northeast Florida Marlin Association. The fleet of the latter comprises a collection
of fish-killing technology the likes of which we've never before seen amassed in one location. Multimillion dollar
behemoths of sparkling white fiberglass and gleaming stainless steel lined up cheek-by-jowl, like battleship row in Pearl
Harbor, their sleek lines making them seem to strain at their mooring lines to go forth and do battle with the Atlantic
gamefish … outriggers towering into the sky, state-of-the-art electronics (so necessary to outwit their crafty prey),
bristling with poles and tackle, their ultra-macho fighting chairs (with integral beer can holders) beckoning us to plop
ourselves down for a quick trim and shave.
On the landward side, Camachee is separated by oyster flats from the renowned Florida School for the Deaf and Blind,
the alma mater of Ray Charles. In spite of its name, students really don’t have to be both. While we suggested to them
that they should, more properly, call themselves the Florida School for the Deaf and/or Blind, they either didn’t hear us
or just didn’t notice that their signs needed changing.
These last couple of months have been crowded here in Camachee, as boats from parts north assemble for their final
preparations prior to the annual Bahamas migration. It’s very similar to Baja-Ha-Ha in spirit and camaraderie. From
here, the big powerboats will take a day to speed south along the Florida coast, then turn left for the hop over to the
islands. We, of course, will proceed in a much more leisurely – dare we say, stately – fashion, taking four or five days
to work our way down to Fort Lauderdale before we cross the Gulf Stream to Bimini.
St. Augustine is, of course, America’s oldest city, first settled by the Spanish in the early 1500’s. Their original fort still
stands, with a commanding view of the ocean inlet, cannons aimed and ready to repel French and/or English invaders
(or even, possibly, the aforementioned gamefish, if they ever think to organize and fight back more than one at a time).
On our daysails around the harbor we’ve spotted dolphin, sea turtles, manatee, and lots and lots of mud flats …
though, as far as the mud flats go, we never really “spotted” them as much as we “ran across” them with our state-of-
the-art depthfinding gear … also known as our “keel.” St. Augustine has many, many tourist attractions, including the
Alligator Farm, Ripley’s Believe-it-or-Not Museum, the old Lighthouse, a quaint downtown chock-a-block with quaint
Bed and Breakfasts (“Beds and Breakfast”?), the San Sebastion Winery, Flagler College, an exciting nightclub scene
that rocks until 10 pm, and so much more. We must admit that we visited Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth with more
than a little excitement and anticipation, but, to be honest, Steve's hair is still graying.
We bought our Beneteau a little more than a year ago, coming out of Moorings charter in the British Virgin Islands. In
November, 2003, our great friend and fellow Coronado Yacht Club member Frank Hafner, Steve, and three paid crew
sailed Dakota Rose from the BVI to St. Augustine. Eight days of around-the-clock sailing – without benefit of autopilot,
chartplotter, or even much sleep – got them to landfall at Cape Canaveral, followed by two days motoring up the ICW.
Rather than go into this trip in more detail, we’ll leave it as an available topic for the next time you run into Frank at the
Club and fall into one of those disquieting conversational lulls … just make sure you ask him about the reef they almost
ran aground on in the Old Bahamas Channel, and the cruise ship that almost collided with them at 3 am (Steve: "hey
… we were under sail … we had the damned right-of-way!")
On a personal note … while she’s been in St. Augustine, Dakota Rose has been cared for by Capt. Pam Lendzion,
charter sailboat skipper, proprietor of St. Augustine Yacht Management and Operations Manager at the St. Augustine
Boatyard. Simply put, Pam loves sailboats, and she has been indispensable. She helped bring Dakota Rose through
Charlie, Frances, Jeanne and Ivan without a scratch, rode herd over various repairers and installers, and has provided
invaluable advice about our upcoming cruise. She is smart, caring, eclectic and fun, and our appreciation of everything
she’s done for us knows no bounds. If anyone reading this is dumb enough to do what we did and buy a second boat
on the east coast, well, she’s the one to take care of it for you!
Prolog - December 2004
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