Our First Step … Repositioning, St. Augustine to Southeast Florida, 11 January
– 16 January, 2005
To cross the Gulf Stream, from Florida to the Bahamas, it is advisable to leave Florida as
far south as possible, to minimize time spent bucking the Stream, which pushes the boat
northward, relentlessly, at 2 to 4 knots. As the first step in our voyage, therefore, Steve
and a few friends from back east have set out to reposition Dakota Rose from Saint
Augustine, in northeast Florida, to Fort Lauderdale, the jumping off point for Bimini.
Day 1 – We’re OFF! St. Augustine to New Smyrna Beach
We left the dock at Camachee Cove Marina on Tuesday, January 11, at 0730, in a thick
fog and running against a 3 to 4 knot, incoming tidal current. Saint Augustine inlet, like
many of the smaller inlets through the barrier islands along the Florida Coast, can be
challenging on a clear day, with shoaling, strong tidal currents and tricky eddies, but this
morning put our “instrument flying” skills to the test. Luckily, we were leaving close to a
new moon high tide, so there was some forgiveness as we struggled to follow the
channel using the chart plotter and radar alone, without being able to see the markers
until we were yards away from them. We knew that we had safely cleared the inlet and
were into the ocean when our boat speed-over-ground quickly jumped from 3 knots to 6
as we broke free of the current in the inlet.
We motored south along the Florida coastline about 60 miles south to the next navigable
inlet, Ponce de Leon, just a few miles south of Daytona Beach. We stayed about 1 ½
miles off the beach, making 6.8 knots, until the wind picked up in the early afternoon …
we raised our sails (but kept the motor on) and our speed picked up to 7 ½ knots. The
day remained overcast, and we didn’t see much of the shoreline until the fog lifted in the
early afternoon, but dolphins kept us company for the entire trip.
– 16 January, 2005
To cross the Gulf Stream, from Florida to the Bahamas, it is advisable to leave Florida as
far south as possible, to minimize time spent bucking the Stream, which pushes the boat
northward, relentlessly, at 2 to 4 knots. As the first step in our voyage, therefore, Steve
and a few friends from back east have set out to reposition Dakota Rose from Saint
Augustine, in northeast Florida, to Fort Lauderdale, the jumping off point for Bimini.
Day 1 – We’re OFF! St. Augustine to New Smyrna Beach
We left the dock at Camachee Cove Marina on Tuesday, January 11, at 0730, in a thick
fog and running against a 3 to 4 knot, incoming tidal current. Saint Augustine inlet, like
many of the smaller inlets through the barrier islands along the Florida Coast, can be
challenging on a clear day, with shoaling, strong tidal currents and tricky eddies, but this
morning put our “instrument flying” skills to the test. Luckily, we were leaving close to a
new moon high tide, so there was some forgiveness as we struggled to follow the
channel using the chart plotter and radar alone, without being able to see the markers
until we were yards away from them. We knew that we had safely cleared the inlet and
were into the ocean when our boat speed-over-ground quickly jumped from 3 knots to 6
as we broke free of the current in the inlet.
We motored south along the Florida coastline about 60 miles south to the next navigable
inlet, Ponce de Leon, just a few miles south of Daytona Beach. We stayed about 1 ½
miles off the beach, making 6.8 knots, until the wind picked up in the early afternoon …
we raised our sails (but kept the motor on) and our speed picked up to 7 ½ knots. The
day remained overcast, and we didn’t see much of the shoreline until the fog lifted in the
early afternoon, but dolphins kept us company for the entire trip.
St. Augustine to Southeast Florida
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
We motored into Ponce inlet – reputed to be challenging when the ocean swells are running, but calm and easy today –
at about 1630, passed the old lighthouse, and turned south into the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW). Once again,
dolphins abounded. These grey dolphins, inside the inlet, seem a different species from their black cousins that we saw
at sea … but, maybe it was just the light. (Or, maybe there’s such a thing as dolphin tanning booths … can they do that
with intelligence but without an opposable thumb?)
A couple of miles south, I had my first experience being the cause of a traffic back-up at a drawbridge (actually, a
bascule bridge). The charts show the bridge as the Coronado Beach Bridge, which I thought was a fitting introduction
for me to bridge transiting, but when I hailed the bridge tender on channel 09 to request an opening, I was curtly
informed that the bridge had been renamed the George Munson Bridge, and that I was welcome to wait for the next
scheduled opening at 1700 … which, of course, we did, having no choice. I have no idea who George Munson was or
is, but he must have been very important for the State of Florida to dump a fine name like “Coronado Beach” in favor of
his. Most likely, he donated a lot of money to Governor Jeb’s last campaign fund.
Less than a quarter mile south of the Coronado Beach Bridge (forgive me, but I’m a traditionalist), we pulled up at The
Fishin’ Store Marina in New Smyrna Beach for the night. Not much to report about it (see the pix in the Photo Album),
lots of good ole boat boys hanging around swapping fish stories.
Floridians apparently are not content to call their seacoasts merely the “East Coast” and “West Coast,” or even, more
descriptively, the “Atlantic Coast” and “Gulf Coast.” They’ve gone to the trouble to subdivide their coasts into smaller
named units. Saint Augustine, for examples, anchors the “First Coast,” so named because, well, it was the first coast in
the current United States to be permanently settled. In New Smyrna Beach we have now entered the “Space Coast,”
named not because of the mentality of the inhabitants but, rather, because it’s anchored by Cape Canaveral. In a few
days, we’ll enter the “Gold Coast” which, from what I’ve been told, should more appropriately be called the “More Money
Than Taste Coast.” We’ll see.
Day 2 – Motoring the Ditch, New Smyrna Beach to Titusville
Today we left at noon and made 32 miles down the ICW, motoring most of the way into a 15 knot headwind that built to
20 knots by mid-afternoon. We arrived at Titusville Municipal Marina at 1700.
The ICW, referred to affectionately by aficionados as “The Ditch,” is denominated in statute miles, not nautical miles,
which is altogether fitting when considering that it’s basically a two-lane country highway for boats traveling up and
down the eastern seaboard. It winds its way between and among the barrier islands, for long stretches a dredged
channel less than 20 yards wide. For the first 10 miles or so today, we were in a river, wooded on both sides, with
houses and docks lined up on the western bank. Much damage from last winter’s hurricanes was still visible: plastic
sheeting on roofs, damaged docks, even some boats aground and broken up.
We entered the Mosquito Lagoon, a several-miles-wide expanse of very shallow water with the ICW channel cut right
through the middle like a reverse Mohawk haircut. At times, we measured only 8 feet of depth in the channel. The best
description of Mosquito Lagoon comes from our Southern Waterway Guide:
Frankly, this description of pelican behavior sounded, to me, a lot like the start of a beer can race.
At one point in the Lagoon, we noticed a plethora of small boats anchored outside of the channel, coolers aboard and
packed with people with chicken drumsticks in hand and binoculars around their necks, all facing south. Kind of like a
floating tailgate party, but with no common objective apparent to us (and, no painted faces) until we saw a rocket rise
into the sky to the south of us. Flames shooting from its behind, contrails extending down to the horizon, it was
spectacular. We later learned that this was a comet probe being launched from Cape Canaveral, which went into shut-
down mode shortly after launch. Looking south, we could see the shuttle assembly building and two launch pads on the
horizon.
We turned southwest to pass through the narrow Haulover Canal to the Indian River. The bridge tender at the Haulover
Canal made me rethink my impression, formed yesterday from a sample of one, that all bridge tenders are rude. I’m
conflicted.
We had a fantastic, 9-mile reach heading SW across the Indian River, doing 6+ knots with only a reefed jib flying. We
then had to turn SE again, into the wind, and fired up the engine. About 30 minutes later we pulled into our berth for the
night.
The Titusville downtown, a short walk from the marina, has all of the amenities: a Papa John’s Pizza, KFC, CVS
Pharmacy, and a (shared) Baptist/Southern Methodist Church. I wonder if this is confusing to the parishioners.
Day 3 – Slogging from Titusville to Melbourne
We made 40 miles today, battling a 20- to 30-knot headwind the entire time. Very little to report; we spent the entire day
in the Indian River, threading our way through a 2-mile wide expanse of 3-foot-deep water through which the 20-yard-
wide ICW channel has been carved.
Early in the day, we stopped traffic as we transited two low bridges: the Titusville Swing Bridge, which sounds like it’s
named after a country/western line dance, and the Addison Point Bascule Bridge, which doesn’t sound like it’s named
after anything in particular. Now that I have a statistically-significant base of research data (i.e., 4 data points), I can
unequivocally report that 75% of bridge tenders in Florida are friendly, courteous and helpful. The bridge tender of the
second bridge we passed today was a woman, and she made an unscheduled opening just for us, stopping (among
other things) a bus and a garbage truck; I didn’t catch her name, but I’ll assume it’s Ms. Addison Point, and we wish her
the best.
Later in the afternoon, a Coast Guard launch pulled beside us stating their intention to board us for a routine safety
gear inspection. I think that they sent the most junior of the three aboard forward in their boat to try to attach a line to
Dakota Rose, and he got totally drenched as they lurched through the chop trying to keep up with us, while we just
stood, 3 or 4 feet above him and remaining snug and dry, laughing at him along with his two Coastie compatriots. They
gave up after a 10-minute valiant effort … I assured them that we had all of the required safety gear aboard, and that
they had discharged their responsibilities admirably … and they motored off down wind with the junior member of the
crew looking like he’d just climbed out of a dunking booth. He was wearing his PFD, though, setting an example for us
all! In retrospect, I think maybe the entire episode was some sort of hazing ritual for the newbie.
Day 4 – Stuck in Melbourne
A cold front washed across the state of Florida today. It would have been another day of slogging directly into the wind,
but this time with the added attraction of torrential rainfall, so we took the wimpy way out and stayed put in Melbourne.
We took the opportunity to do some minor fix-ups around the boat, the sort of little things that one doesn’t detect until
they become annoying.
On the plus side, our new bimini and dodger combination work great keeping out the rain.
We are tied up directly across an inlet from a sailboat that is upside-down, impaled on a wooden dock piling. Either
hurricane damage, or a really bad docking job.
Tomorrow, as the front moves through, the wind is forecast to clock to the northwest then northeast, perfect for sailing
down the ICW. Not the sort of conditions in which we’ll want to be crossing the Gulf Stream next week, though, but we’re
hopeful that things will calm down by then.
Day 5 – A Downwind Sail to Fort Pierce
With a 20 to 25 knot wind at our backs and intermittent rain, we flew down the ICW today, making 7 to 8 knots with just
the jib flying. Running under sail in the restricted ICW channel was a challenge: constantly on the lookout for the next
set of channel markers, watching the chart plotter, an unexpected gibe would have sent us aground in seconds.
After noon, the wind died down a little, and we even had some sun peaking through. We saw lots of fishermen out in
small boats, especially around bridge pilings and the numerous small islets and exposed sandbars. Many were wearing
their bright yellow slickers, but an equal number were decked out in their camouflage gear. I didn’t know that fish were
so smart; I wonder if the latter group has more luck?
The wide, shallow Indian River narrowed in parts, and we twisted and turned around small islands and points. Although
we haven’t officially entered the “More Money Than Taste Coast,” we saw many houses today fronting the waterway
that would certainly fit in down there, with broad lawns, huge pools, Italianate “Venus-de-Milo-type” statues, topiary, it
made me wonder why the hurricanes destroyed some things while sparing others.
Fort Pierce was pretty much Ground Zero for two of last summer’s hurricanes, Frances and Jeanne, and many of the
marinas are still closed. There remains much evidence of damage.
We transited one bascule bridge today, the Fort Pierce North Bridge, and, once again, I need to revise my FFBT*
statistic up to 80%.
(* “FFBT” = “Friendly Floridian Bridge Tenders”)
We are now one day behind schedule on our trip to Fort Lauderdale. Tomorrow we face a choice. We can stay in the
ICW for the 55 miles to our next stop in Palm Beach; unfortunately, between here and there are nine low bridges, five of
which only open on fixed schedules, which would really slow us down. Or, we could go out Fort Pierce Inlet to the ocean,
then hug the coast going south to the Palm Beach inlet (inside the Gulf Stream). By doing this we would take advantage
of a forecast 20-25 knots of wind behind us as well as the Gulf Stream eddies that would be helping us along;
unfortunately, in addition to the favorable wind conditions, the forecast is for 10 to 12 foot seas. Stay tuned…
Day 6 – Riding the Roller Coaster to West Palm Beach
… and, we chose the offshore route.
We left the dock in Fort Pierce this morning at 0345 to take advantage of a favorable tide. In the dark, as in the fog in
Saint Augustine, we relied heavily on the chart plotter and radar to navigate out of the Fort Pierce inlet, since at least a
few of the aids to navigation have been moved or rendered dysfunctional by the hurricanes. After slamming through the
surf at the mouth of the inlet and heading a mile offshore, we turned due south, popped open the jib, and for 55 miles
(nautical … we’re at sea now) and 7 hours we rode 10 foot following swells and a 25 knot following wind, making 7 to 9
knots all the way to the Lake Worth inlet.
Here’s what the Southern Waterway Guide has to say about the Lake Worth Inlet:
Here’s what we would have written:
Anyway, here we are, safe and sound, at the world-reknowned Rybovitch Spencer Marina and Boatworks in West Palm
Beach, the Heart of Florida’s Gold Coast. Right next to us is Jimmy Buffett’s aquamarine-colored sportfisher, Last
Mango, the smallest of his three boats in this marina. Somehow, I don’t think he personally polishes the stainless steel.
We are, by far, the smallest boat in the marina, and we’re mingling with paid crews from around the world.
This afternoon, my east coast crew had to bid a tearful farewell, stranding me here for the next couple of days until my
California crew arrives. We didn’t make Fort Lauderdale, as planned, but we had a great trip.
at about 1630, passed the old lighthouse, and turned south into the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW). Once again,
dolphins abounded. These grey dolphins, inside the inlet, seem a different species from their black cousins that we saw
at sea … but, maybe it was just the light. (Or, maybe there’s such a thing as dolphin tanning booths … can they do that
with intelligence but without an opposable thumb?)
A couple of miles south, I had my first experience being the cause of a traffic back-up at a drawbridge (actually, a
bascule bridge). The charts show the bridge as the Coronado Beach Bridge, which I thought was a fitting introduction
for me to bridge transiting, but when I hailed the bridge tender on channel 09 to request an opening, I was curtly
informed that the bridge had been renamed the George Munson Bridge, and that I was welcome to wait for the next
scheduled opening at 1700 … which, of course, we did, having no choice. I have no idea who George Munson was or
is, but he must have been very important for the State of Florida to dump a fine name like “Coronado Beach” in favor of
his. Most likely, he donated a lot of money to Governor Jeb’s last campaign fund.
Less than a quarter mile south of the Coronado Beach Bridge (forgive me, but I’m a traditionalist), we pulled up at The
Fishin’ Store Marina in New Smyrna Beach for the night. Not much to report about it (see the pix in the Photo Album),
lots of good ole boat boys hanging around swapping fish stories.
Floridians apparently are not content to call their seacoasts merely the “East Coast” and “West Coast,” or even, more
descriptively, the “Atlantic Coast” and “Gulf Coast.” They’ve gone to the trouble to subdivide their coasts into smaller
named units. Saint Augustine, for examples, anchors the “First Coast,” so named because, well, it was the first coast in
the current United States to be permanently settled. In New Smyrna Beach we have now entered the “Space Coast,”
named not because of the mentality of the inhabitants but, rather, because it’s anchored by Cape Canaveral. In a few
days, we’ll enter the “Gold Coast” which, from what I’ve been told, should more appropriately be called the “More Money
Than Taste Coast.” We’ll see.
Day 2 – Motoring the Ditch, New Smyrna Beach to Titusville
Today we left at noon and made 32 miles down the ICW, motoring most of the way into a 15 knot headwind that built to
20 knots by mid-afternoon. We arrived at Titusville Municipal Marina at 1700.
The ICW, referred to affectionately by aficionados as “The Ditch,” is denominated in statute miles, not nautical miles,
which is altogether fitting when considering that it’s basically a two-lane country highway for boats traveling up and
down the eastern seaboard. It winds its way between and among the barrier islands, for long stretches a dredged
channel less than 20 yards wide. For the first 10 miles or so today, we were in a river, wooded on both sides, with
houses and docks lined up on the western bank. Much damage from last winter’s hurricanes was still visible: plastic
sheeting on roofs, damaged docks, even some boats aground and broken up.
We entered the Mosquito Lagoon, a several-miles-wide expanse of very shallow water with the ICW channel cut right
through the middle like a reverse Mohawk haircut. At times, we measured only 8 feet of depth in the channel. The best
description of Mosquito Lagoon comes from our Southern Waterway Guide:
Frankly, this description of pelican behavior sounded, to me, a lot like the start of a beer can race.
At one point in the Lagoon, we noticed a plethora of small boats anchored outside of the channel, coolers aboard and
packed with people with chicken drumsticks in hand and binoculars around their necks, all facing south. Kind of like a
floating tailgate party, but with no common objective apparent to us (and, no painted faces) until we saw a rocket rise
into the sky to the south of us. Flames shooting from its behind, contrails extending down to the horizon, it was
spectacular. We later learned that this was a comet probe being launched from Cape Canaveral, which went into shut-
down mode shortly after launch. Looking south, we could see the shuttle assembly building and two launch pads on the
horizon.
We turned southwest to pass through the narrow Haulover Canal to the Indian River. The bridge tender at the Haulover
Canal made me rethink my impression, formed yesterday from a sample of one, that all bridge tenders are rude. I’m
conflicted.
We had a fantastic, 9-mile reach heading SW across the Indian River, doing 6+ knots with only a reefed jib flying. We
then had to turn SE again, into the wind, and fired up the engine. About 30 minutes later we pulled into our berth for the
night.
The Titusville downtown, a short walk from the marina, has all of the amenities: a Papa John’s Pizza, KFC, CVS
Pharmacy, and a (shared) Baptist/Southern Methodist Church. I wonder if this is confusing to the parishioners.
Day 3 – Slogging from Titusville to Melbourne
We made 40 miles today, battling a 20- to 30-knot headwind the entire time. Very little to report; we spent the entire day
in the Indian River, threading our way through a 2-mile wide expanse of 3-foot-deep water through which the 20-yard-
wide ICW channel has been carved.
Early in the day, we stopped traffic as we transited two low bridges: the Titusville Swing Bridge, which sounds like it’s
named after a country/western line dance, and the Addison Point Bascule Bridge, which doesn’t sound like it’s named
after anything in particular. Now that I have a statistically-significant base of research data (i.e., 4 data points), I can
unequivocally report that 75% of bridge tenders in Florida are friendly, courteous and helpful. The bridge tender of the
second bridge we passed today was a woman, and she made an unscheduled opening just for us, stopping (among
other things) a bus and a garbage truck; I didn’t catch her name, but I’ll assume it’s Ms. Addison Point, and we wish her
the best.
Later in the afternoon, a Coast Guard launch pulled beside us stating their intention to board us for a routine safety
gear inspection. I think that they sent the most junior of the three aboard forward in their boat to try to attach a line to
Dakota Rose, and he got totally drenched as they lurched through the chop trying to keep up with us, while we just
stood, 3 or 4 feet above him and remaining snug and dry, laughing at him along with his two Coastie compatriots. They
gave up after a 10-minute valiant effort … I assured them that we had all of the required safety gear aboard, and that
they had discharged their responsibilities admirably … and they motored off down wind with the junior member of the
crew looking like he’d just climbed out of a dunking booth. He was wearing his PFD, though, setting an example for us
all! In retrospect, I think maybe the entire episode was some sort of hazing ritual for the newbie.
Day 4 – Stuck in Melbourne
A cold front washed across the state of Florida today. It would have been another day of slogging directly into the wind,
but this time with the added attraction of torrential rainfall, so we took the wimpy way out and stayed put in Melbourne.
We took the opportunity to do some minor fix-ups around the boat, the sort of little things that one doesn’t detect until
they become annoying.
On the plus side, our new bimini and dodger combination work great keeping out the rain.
We are tied up directly across an inlet from a sailboat that is upside-down, impaled on a wooden dock piling. Either
hurricane damage, or a really bad docking job.
Tomorrow, as the front moves through, the wind is forecast to clock to the northwest then northeast, perfect for sailing
down the ICW. Not the sort of conditions in which we’ll want to be crossing the Gulf Stream next week, though, but we’re
hopeful that things will calm down by then.
Day 5 – A Downwind Sail to Fort Pierce
With a 20 to 25 knot wind at our backs and intermittent rain, we flew down the ICW today, making 7 to 8 knots with just
the jib flying. Running under sail in the restricted ICW channel was a challenge: constantly on the lookout for the next
set of channel markers, watching the chart plotter, an unexpected gibe would have sent us aground in seconds.
After noon, the wind died down a little, and we even had some sun peaking through. We saw lots of fishermen out in
small boats, especially around bridge pilings and the numerous small islets and exposed sandbars. Many were wearing
their bright yellow slickers, but an equal number were decked out in their camouflage gear. I didn’t know that fish were
so smart; I wonder if the latter group has more luck?
The wide, shallow Indian River narrowed in parts, and we twisted and turned around small islands and points. Although
we haven’t officially entered the “More Money Than Taste Coast,” we saw many houses today fronting the waterway
that would certainly fit in down there, with broad lawns, huge pools, Italianate “Venus-de-Milo-type” statues, topiary, it
made me wonder why the hurricanes destroyed some things while sparing others.
Fort Pierce was pretty much Ground Zero for two of last summer’s hurricanes, Frances and Jeanne, and many of the
marinas are still closed. There remains much evidence of damage.
We transited one bascule bridge today, the Fort Pierce North Bridge, and, once again, I need to revise my FFBT*
statistic up to 80%.
(* “FFBT” = “Friendly Floridian Bridge Tenders”)
We are now one day behind schedule on our trip to Fort Lauderdale. Tomorrow we face a choice. We can stay in the
ICW for the 55 miles to our next stop in Palm Beach; unfortunately, between here and there are nine low bridges, five of
which only open on fixed schedules, which would really slow us down. Or, we could go out Fort Pierce Inlet to the ocean,
then hug the coast going south to the Palm Beach inlet (inside the Gulf Stream). By doing this we would take advantage
of a forecast 20-25 knots of wind behind us as well as the Gulf Stream eddies that would be helping us along;
unfortunately, in addition to the favorable wind conditions, the forecast is for 10 to 12 foot seas. Stay tuned…
Day 6 – Riding the Roller Coaster to West Palm Beach
… and, we chose the offshore route.
We left the dock in Fort Pierce this morning at 0345 to take advantage of a favorable tide. In the dark, as in the fog in
Saint Augustine, we relied heavily on the chart plotter and radar to navigate out of the Fort Pierce inlet, since at least a
few of the aids to navigation have been moved or rendered dysfunctional by the hurricanes. After slamming through the
surf at the mouth of the inlet and heading a mile offshore, we turned due south, popped open the jib, and for 55 miles
(nautical … we’re at sea now) and 7 hours we rode 10 foot following swells and a 25 knot following wind, making 7 to 9
knots all the way to the Lake Worth inlet.
Here’s what the Southern Waterway Guide has to say about the Lake Worth Inlet:
Here’s what we would have written:
Anyway, here we are, safe and sound, at the world-reknowned Rybovitch Spencer Marina and Boatworks in West Palm
Beach, the Heart of Florida’s Gold Coast. Right next to us is Jimmy Buffett’s aquamarine-colored sportfisher, Last
Mango, the smallest of his three boats in this marina. Somehow, I don’t think he personally polishes the stainless steel.
We are, by far, the smallest boat in the marina, and we’re mingling with paid crews from around the world.
This afternoon, my east coast crew had to bid a tearful farewell, stranding me here for the next couple of days until my
California crew arrives. We didn’t make Fort Lauderdale, as planned, but we had a great trip.
The same conditions that make this water popular for mosquitoes and deer flies create an ideal
feeding and breeding ground for sport and commercial fish, including redfish, trout, and mullet. Crabs,
clams and shrimp thrive among the dense aquatic grass beds. Flocks of white pelicans enjoy fishing
here as well, although their technique differs dramatically from that of folks in their runabouts.
Swimming toward a common destination, the birds herd fish together by flapping their wings on the
water. Before the fish can escape, the pelicans gobble them up.
feeding and breeding ground for sport and commercial fish, including redfish, trout, and mullet. Crabs,
clams and shrimp thrive among the dense aquatic grass beds. Flocks of white pelicans enjoy fishing
here as well, although their technique differs dramatically from that of folks in their runabouts.
Swimming toward a common destination, the birds herd fish together by flapping their wings on the
water. Before the fish can escape, the pelicans gobble them up.
As you approach Lake Worth Inlet, you’ll surf down rolling, following 15 foot swells that obscure whatever
channel buoys are not otherwise lost in the clutter of construction and hurricane debris in the inlet. A 25
knot north wind, directly abeam, will sweep you into the breakwater if you don’t keep your engine RPMs
maxed out. On the positive side, at least the wind will keep you away from the maniacal surfers cutting in
front of you as they ride the waves that break directly into the inlet.
channel buoys are not otherwise lost in the clutter of construction and hurricane debris in the inlet. A 25
knot north wind, directly abeam, will sweep you into the breakwater if you don’t keep your engine RPMs
maxed out. On the positive side, at least the wind will keep you away from the maniacal surfers cutting in
front of you as they ride the waves that break directly into the inlet.
Wide, well-buoyed and jettied, Lake Worth Inlet boasts a deep, straightforward ship channel that is one of
the Atlantic Coast’s easiest to enter.
the Atlantic Coast’s easiest to enter.
Day 9 – The Final Leg
It’s 5:00 pm on Wednesday, January 19, and the four of us – Pete McRae and Dave Udell of the Coronado Yacht Club,
our friend Michel Schmied of Bonita, and I – are strolling along the Fort Lauderdale beach, passing the typical array of
cheesy t-shirt shops, tattoo and body-piercing shops, and beachfront dives. My California crew flew in last night, and we
left West Palm at 0845 this morning for a 44 mile jaunt down the ICW through the heart of the Gold Coast. Most of the
way it was a man made channel, lined on both sides with houses ranging from trailers to huge mansions of varying
taste. One of the highpoints was Larry Flynt’s mansion, with several statues of women en dishabille, one of whose hand
is extended in a pose that very pointedly expresses his opinion of his neighbors.
We passed 20 low bridges today, timing our transits between successive bridges to minimize delay time. It got so the
bridge tenders expected us and, on at least one occasion, held up the opening for a few minutes to let us catch up. I
have totally revised my opinion of the friendliness and helpfulness of Florida drawbridge tenders, thinking that the
Coronado Beach/George Munson Bridge tender was an aberration that should be properly expunged from my data
base.
We are safely tied up at the Fort Lauderdale Las Olas City Docks, two blocks from the Atlantic beach, along with a
number of other boats waiting for a good weather window to jump over to Bimini. The general consensus is that the best
weather window is Friday/Saturday, in a few days, but that would bring me to my next installment.
It’s 5:00 pm on Wednesday, January 19, and the four of us – Pete McRae and Dave Udell of the Coronado Yacht Club,
our friend Michel Schmied of Bonita, and I – are strolling along the Fort Lauderdale beach, passing the typical array of
cheesy t-shirt shops, tattoo and body-piercing shops, and beachfront dives. My California crew flew in last night, and we
left West Palm at 0845 this morning for a 44 mile jaunt down the ICW through the heart of the Gold Coast. Most of the
way it was a man made channel, lined on both sides with houses ranging from trailers to huge mansions of varying
taste. One of the highpoints was Larry Flynt’s mansion, with several statues of women en dishabille, one of whose hand
is extended in a pose that very pointedly expresses his opinion of his neighbors.
We passed 20 low bridges today, timing our transits between successive bridges to minimize delay time. It got so the
bridge tenders expected us and, on at least one occasion, held up the opening for a few minutes to let us catch up. I
have totally revised my opinion of the friendliness and helpfulness of Florida drawbridge tenders, thinking that the
Coronado Beach/George Munson Bridge tender was an aberration that should be properly expunged from my data
base.
We are safely tied up at the Fort Lauderdale Las Olas City Docks, two blocks from the Atlantic beach, along with a
number of other boats waiting for a good weather window to jump over to Bimini. The general consensus is that the best
weather window is Friday/Saturday, in a few days, but that would bring me to my next installment.