Isle of Hope Marina, Savannah, Georgia

     To say that cruising the ICW through Georgia is relaxing would be a complete misrepresentation of the flavour of the trip. Valli and Mike (you remember them from the motor yacht Sanctuary) had warned us that we would likely get divorced at least 5 times before we finished our cruise...we are working on number 6!  It is stressful! Taking a 56 foot boat with 4.5 feet of draft through areas that are 2.5 feet at low tide, with rapid current and wind pushing you always out of the channel and into the propeller bending shallows, is stressful.

                                                                                                                                                                      

      It takes hours to figure out what the tide will be in a narrow shallow area by the time you get there (which depends on the current, wind and tide when you leave and on your way to the propeller destroying shallow area!).  Now, throw in meeting a trawler and believe it or not, a cruise ship (Carnivals Atlantic Star) in two of three narrow areas that you have been apprehensive about, along with an Admiral that is constantly pointing out crab traps that are 2 miles ahead (that you have already seen!) and constantly saying that you are out of the channel when you are trying to get back in the channel, add in biting horse flies( that I am told are so big this year they are going to put licence plates on their wings)  occasionally taking their lunch out of your leg. .....well....you can see...how someone with a quick temper (and quick to forgive and forget, I might add ) might just be a little bit irritable and prone to raising his or her voice.

                                                                               

                                                                                 

                                                                                   
     Even poor Spencer was having a bad day.  First of all he picked up a tick on his back when we were on Cumberland Island, so was not feeling well and really didn't like us swatting at the flies with a newspaper. Curled up in the second helm seat on the upper deck he was sleeping when all of a sudden he let out a yelp, snapped at his back side and jumped over into my lap and he cursed. I heard him say "Bastard horse fly, bit my ass, Daddy!"
     I would be remiss if I did not mention "Hell Gate"  Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was stress. maybe it was Alzheimer's, maybe it was the fear of having to go through one of the most frequent areas for boats to go aground, but as we approached the shallow, narrow,  rapid current passage that I had been most worried about, I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye. I felt the hair raise on the back of my neck and shivers ran down my arms and spine....I thought I saw an open hand rise out of the water, grasping for the sky (or maybe grasping for the boat)! It was so real that I pulled the throttles back to see if it was a body floating under the surface.  White faced, I looked around the water surface and saw nothing, so with trepidation we proceeded on.
      It is not just us.  We met a nice couple from Portland, Maine (John and Debbie on the sailboat Feeling Lucky) who got tired of watching their neighbourhood change with the influx of third world refugees, so sold their home, bought a sail boat and are experiencing the same frustrations (not including the hand hallucination, I am sure they would want me to add!) and arguments that infect us. We all laughed about our experiences over sun downers and pot luck supper later, on the day we arrived. When I told them about "the hand", they told me that indeed a small boat was found empty and people were looking for a lost boater! (do you hear the theme song from jaws in your head! I did!)

                                                             Sunrise...Savannah, Georgia             

     Next day the four of us signed out the courtesy car to travel to down town Savannah not only to get supplies for the boat at West Marine, but also to get the flavour of this sultry southern town.  It just happened that the tall sailing ships were coming into port for a visit.  We marvelled at old three masted vessels from France, Brazil and the tug boat named "Penobscot Bay" (I guess Maine's contribution).

                                                                                

                                                                                    

      Heavy oaks draped with Spanish moss lined streets which seemed to almost always wind around a small park with a fountain. We stopped at a beautiful cathedral, St John the Baptist, which I entered only after Debbie assured me that a big thumb wouldn't come down through the ceiling crushing me with a loud voice saying "you piss me off!  Beth took lots of pictures saying , "I might never get him into a church again!"

                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                           

                                                                       Pipe Organ                   
                                                                                 
     It was hot. I guess we are acclimated to being on the water. We stopped and got a beer to go, than later a 12 pack, which was enough to last until we found ourselves lost in the environs of Savannah.  Thank heavens for smart phones. As John passed the same car wash for the 3rd time, Beth and he finally asked their phones for direction back to the marina....Deb and I just opened another beer. We laughed as we exchanged boat stories good and bad (even some of the curse words used during the bad times were the same!!)
      Arriving at Isle of Hope marina we were joined by Evelyn and Sid from Woodstock, Ontario in the boat named "Something Special". They brought over Eldon and Dianne Morrison from the boat "Maine Visions."(We first saw Maine Visions At Morning Star Marina in St. Simmonds Island but did not meet the owners.) It turns out that Eldon is from Perry, Maine and Dianne from Eastport, Maine...both of which are home to us.  We talked about all kinds of people we knew in common and the Fundy Bay in general. Eldon and Dianne had already done most of the great loop and were heading back to their home in Yarmouth, Maine.
      As Beth prepared a good home cooked meal of  roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas and corn, the rest of us continued in the party mode.  A little dancing and the music got louder.  John seemed partial to having the volume up to almost the level that I usually listen at around three in the morning, but because of the closeness of the marina I turned it down.  Sid and Evelyn seemed amazed that Beth could throw a meal together that quickly,y and thanked us profusely before retiring, so at the end only the Mainers were left standing.

Deb, Sid, Eldon and Dianne

                                                        Eldon, Dianne and Evelyn.

                                                                    John and Ralph                                                 

     Even though we had hangovers the next day there was work to be done. Up at six am, I started the oil change for the mains and generator.  All of the filters including the oil spinners had to be changed out and 12 gallons of old oil carried up the ramp to the disposal shed (not my recommendation for working off a hangover!)  The salon air conditioner crapped out so I tore into it and couldn't solve the issue while Beth started the party clean up on the upper deck.  "Someone dropped and broke a beer bottle up top. Watch your feet," she griped.  Smiling meekly I responded, "Now, who could have done that and not picked it up!"
     Eldon and Dianne left for Beaufort after coming over to exchange boat cards. We promised to meet up with them for drinks in Eastport.  Sid and Evelyn went to the Tall ship sailing adventure in down town Savannah and would be leaving the next day.  John and Debbie ( I hope she is still talking to me after all the jokes I made, nick naming her "swallow"!...rest of the story left untold!) would be staying around till Sunday, then headed back up to New Jersey and maybe the Maritimes . We still had fuel filters to change, and a boat to prepare for a month of being closed up. We would be leaving,  Beth for Naples and me for Beaumont. I would have to finish one more month at work before we could continue this journey in earnest.
      In reflection, this has not been the relaxing cruise I thought it would be.  It has been a challenge. It has been stressful, but we have seen many amazing things and met interesting friendly people. Our children R.J. and Crystal and grandchild, Dean (one of the grandchildren we have yet to see!) are going to come home for International Festival in Calais/St. Stephen.  Hoping we may be able  to get most of the grandchildren on the boat to go whale watching in the bay of Fundy this summer we will persevere and continue the adventure.

Cumberland Island, Georgia

     Magical! That's the only term I can think of to describe Cumberland Island. An uneventful cruise from Vero Beach brought us in to the safety of the Dungeness anchorage off Cumberland Island.  From a distance it first appeared like most of the islands we passed except, the foliage appeared....well, thicker. Why? We quickly got the anchor set, the dingy launched and Spencer into his life jacket, and motored around the few other anchored trawlers and sail boats to go explore the island before it got dark.  What was it that made this island look different from a distance, thicker woods with a hazy mist rising from the interior?  Even Spencer appeared more alert and curious as we got closer to the island. As we closed the distance to the dock we saw people lined up waiting to get on a boat to take them back to the mainland. They had carts full of coolers, tents and sleeping bags lined up as they patiently waited to board the trawler that served as the ferry to the island.

                                                                            

                                                                                    

     We tied up the dingy to the floating dock (6 ft tides to deal with now), got Spencer's life jacket off and his leash on and jumped up onto the dingy dock.  Spencer tugged at the leash as we walked up the dock towards the park rangers sea camp.  No one around. Even the park ranger takes the last ferry to the mainland so we started down the first path labelled "Beach".  All Beth talked about as we neared the anchorage was of getting pictures of the wild horses roaming free on Cumberland Island but she got much more.  We walked around a couple of trees and stopped in our tracks, our jaws dropped.  Before us lay a forest of 400 year old oak trees with low hanging thick knobbly branches and long spindly vines hanging from their limbs, dripping with Spanish moss that hung almost to the ground. No wonder the island appeared thick! This was timber that had never been harvested. This is what it must have looked like hundreds of years ago.

                                                                                                     

     A few dirt roads crossed the island and hiking trails labelled interior, beach, and ruins were clearly marked but it was getting late, so we headed toward the beach hoping that we would see the horses.  The deeper into the woods we walked, the more eerie was the scenery, with the low hanging limbs of the oak trees forming a canopy over the paths and dirt road blocking out the vestiges of a late afternoon sun.  It could have been a scene out of a Harry Potter movie.  At any time one could expect an elf or a unicorn to step out from behind an aged oak tree or palmetto palm bush.  There were campers but the sites were situated such that you could only see smoke arising from their camp fires and other than when we passed the bathroom and sun showers we could not hear them. 
     We got to a long wooden board walk that exited the forest and crossed over about a half mile of sand dunes.  A sign was placed "Do not walk on the sand dunes."  I laughed as I quipped. " Ya, tell the horses that!  Their hoof prints are all over the place."  The sand was the soft light sugar granules that was so dry it merely put a fine warm dust on our bare feet which we watched closely so as not to step in the horse manure occasionally deposited in the path to the beach.  Surprisingly there was no odour to the manure.  Beth (my resident horse expert) explained that because these horses are wild and aren't fed grain and antibiotics their manure is mostly odour free.

                                                                              

                                                                                 

                                                                                

     With effort we wound our way through the sand, our feet slipping a little as the sand gave away with each step.  We could hear it long before we could see it but there it was, the Atlantic ocean. We could see the white surf breaking on the beach behind which was a vista of blue ocean. The breeze was fresh and quickly started to fill in the foot prints we left in the sand dunes.  Miles to each side was the flat beach. No stones. No pebbles. No sea weed. Simply beach leading to the white mounded sand dunes leading to thick woods.  Simply beautiful.
     Beth almost immediately spotted a few dots on the sand dunes about a mile away and exclaimed. "There they are!"
 "There what are?" I questioned.
 "The horses. Over there. Lets go. " She yelled as she took off toward what I thought were a few bushes on the dunes.  Sure enough,as we got closer I could recognized three horses with their necks arched forward grazing on the sparse bushes that sprouted from the dunes.
 "Have you thought about the fact that they are wild and might attack us! What are you going to do if they chase you ? " I said to the back of her head. " Maybe we should just hold an apple in the air, here next to the water, so we can run into the water and get away if they come after us." A country boy I am not!
 Well she got her pictures and I got comfortable with the horses and actually approached a young stallion close enough for Beth to get a picture...that was until Spencer barked and the stallion started pounding his forefoot, which Beth said was an act of aggression so get back! The park warden later explained that the horses were not really aggressive and were probably curious about the little dog.
                                                                                 

                                                                          

        The island was so interesting that we stayed anchored here for three days. The park rangers gave walking tours and a naturalist lecture in the afternoon.  We heard that the island was owned by the famous Carnegie family who had two estates built.  One was set on fire.  They even had pictures of the fire.  Apparently, the gamekeeper on the island shot at a couple of poacher's who were taking deer off the island. He wounded one in the leg. Later, the wounded poacher's brothers got their revenge by not only setting fire to the mansion but also shooting holes in the Carnegie's boat as it sat at the dock!

                                                                                 

                                                                                        
     On the return to Doc's Holiday we stopped to talk to Sid the captain of Something Special (flying a Canadian Flag).  He was in his dingy talking to John on Feeling Lucky (from Portland, Me)...as soon as John's wife Debbie offered us a beer...it was on!  Great folks, all of them, so we invited them for cocktails back on our boat and spent an interesting evening talking about the adventures of cruising in general.  Something Special was on the way back to Ontario after having spent time in the Great Lakes, the Gulf Coast, the Florida Keys and the Bahamas.  All that travelling and Evelyn, Sids wife, looks like she just stepped out of a beauty salon whether it be 8 am or 10 pm. How does she do that?
Feeling Lucky was on their way back to New Jersey and then maybe Portland, Maine.  Their trials and tribulations very much resembled our own and John's thrill of feeling the sails fill and the rush when the boat jumps ahead under sail was infectious, almost converting me to sail instead of power.
We spent an evening enjoying the freedom and carefree boating life style and the feeling that we were part of a privileged few who had worked hard enough to enable us to engage this way of life.

                                                                                        

     There was more to see, like a tour of the refurbished estate on the north end of the island but after hiking the trails and exploring the ruins and walking the beach, it was time to go.  My vacation was in its final week and we wanted to get the boat where we knew it would be looked after until I could finish up work and return to continue the adventure to Maine.  Savannah, Georgia was beckoning.-
--

St Augustine, FL.

                                                                           

     Is it possible to fall in love with a town?  I think not.  But if one could, St. Augustine might be the one, especially if you like being around the water, boats, European ambiance mixed with southern hospitality, and the friendliest people we have encountered on the trip (on par with the folks in Lake Arthur, LA we wrote about earlier in our blog). 
     Our cruise over was pleasant with a warm 10 knot breeze, temp in the high 70's and just a light chop on the water. There were a few areas of shoaling which we slowed down and easily navigated but even these had their own strange attraction because of the change in colour from dark to light blue surrounded by white sand.  The admiral decided that because of reports of strong current at the municipal marina we would go up the San Sebastian River to Rivers Edge Marina which had good reviews on Active Captain.

                                           International Speedway Bridge MM830.5                

     Wonderful people! As we rounded the final turn before the marina we saw a man standing on our designated dock.  A very polite Paul greeted us, tied the lines to secure the boat, hooked up our 50 amp power cord and seemed surprised at the $10 tip. Maybe they don't get that many motor yachts was my first thought and given the number of sailboats in the marina and being a little out of the way, it was probably true. If so that may explain his surprise.
      Some refer to sail boats as rag baggers, or whistle pissers.  Rag baggers, I understand. But whistle pissers had to be explained to me: they pull into a marina ask the price of fuel, whistle in disbelief at the price, ask to use the lavatory and leave!  They are known to be frugal which isn't a bad thing in this day of high fuel prices but I believe that someone in the service industry who actually gives polite, thoughtful, useful service should be rewarded, after all they are struggling just like the rest of us!
     Paul took us up to the office to register and meet Don, one of the owner's of the marina.  Don greeted us warmly and explained the cheap fuel price $3.83/gal compared to everyone else in the area at $4.05/gal and some at $4.23/gal. (turned out that's why the Admiral really chose this place!)  The city owned municipal marina had recently installed 200 moorings around their marina which is directly on the ICW with the argument that they wanted to clean up the harbour of all the sailboats anchored for free in the area.  At $20/ night for a mooring vs. $2.25/ ft/ night for a slip, it is cheaper for a travelling boater, but too expensive for the permanent freeloaders and the city would get some revenue from those who would just anchor.  Problem is the city marina is funded by tax money and not even making a profit!  The cheap moorings have taken most of the business away from the private marinas like Rivers Edge so they are fighting to get their business back.  They make no money from the fuel, letting the fuel truck deal directly with the boater even though Rivers Edge arranges the fuel up.  They are super accommodating.  When I mentioned we were only going to be here a few days and I had bent props they quickly called around and within 2 hours a diver had the props off the boat and we delivered the props to St. Augustine Marine center where the props were repaired THE NEXT DAY! and the diver had them back on the boat the following day!  All done within the reasonable prices quoted to me.
     On top of that everything a cruiser would want is within walking distance. Wynn-Dixie grocery store. West Marine, Sailors supply discount house, Tammy's comfort food, downtown old St. Augustine, and "Hurricane Patty's" restaurant and bar.
     "Hurricane Patty's!" is just far enough away that we couldn't hear the music but within staggering distance of the boat. This is the most fun we have had since leaving Texas.  It was Karaoke night so we went in thinking it might be fun to listen to local yokels screwing up the music for a while.  Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!  Some of these locals could be professional singers! Yes, there were a couple of performers with too much alcohol and too little voice but the majority of them were very good and the crowd was hilarious, friendly, laughing, dancing, singing and of all ages.  We laughed till the tears ran down our faces when an elderly gentleman (around 80 years) stood up and took hold of the rope that was hung from the rafter beside him and started to do the dirty boogie pole dance! (apparently they use a rope instead of a pole because they can move it ...and someone fell off the pole in the past)  When he slapped his gyrating ass, elderly and younger women would deliver a hug and kiss along with a dollar bill to his shirt pocket and the crowd would cheer!....who said the elderly have lost it!  Nanny (my Mother) who was in her 80's used to say, "When you got it! You got it!" and these folks at Hurricane Patty's got it!
     Next day we walked to old St. Augustine. The architecture was unique.  Well manicured lawns, beautiful shrubs and blooming pink and white Azaleas along with vines climbing the sides of the brick buildings adorned not only Flagler College but most of the other old Spanish styled buildings, including the Cathedral Basilica.

                                                                             

                                          Flagler College.....former Hotel Ponce De Leon
                            

                                                                             

                                                                                                                         

                                                          Cathedral Basilica

                                                                            

                                                                 Lightner Museum  
 
     Henry Flagler a co-founder of Standard Oil Co was impressed with the charm of the area and built the Hotel Ponce de Leon, which later became Flagler College  The Admiral went wild with the camera enticed by the beauty of the Bridge of Lions, the pirate galleon, and the tri masted tall ship viewable in the harbour.  As we sauntered through the narrow brick alley's shaded by tall oak trees dripping with Spanish moss it seemed that we were transported to a simpler world and time.

                                                                   HMS Bounty                                                                                  

                                                                        

                      ThinkI can ding the prop on this:?  

                

    We wandered until we discovered the "Bistro de Leon".,... . a french home cuisine-la cuisine de meres. The ambiance was what I picture a bistro in Paris or Lyons would be like; sophisticated, polite efficient waitresses, unhurried, making one feel taken care of and producing what the award winning chef, Jean-Stephane Poinard wishes for his patrons---"to realize that time is the ultimate luxury!"  The french onion soup was the best I have ever tasted. The entree impeccably presented (wish we had taken a picture of it!) and the french baguette and pastry brought home because we were just too satiated to eat any more, but they looked soooo tasty and we didn't want to miss out. The long walk home will hopefully take care of some of the calories!

                                                 The Ultimate luxury..Time!                                

     Tomorrow we will take the tour trolley in the morning and start preparing the boat for the next leg of the adventure to see the wild horses at Cumberland Island.  "Wait! Wait! Wait!, says the Admiral. "We are not leaving here until we find the Fountain of Youth!"
     So with tickets for the trolley in hand we took the tour and wound up seeing: the Pirates Museum with real gold and silver booty in a pirates chest, discovered by an adventurer; put in jail for 30 minutes to get a taste of how terrible conditions were for prisoners in Florida in the era of chain gangs and bull whips; toured the HMS Bounty, a tri masted tall ship made for the movie "Mutiny on the Bounty" and believe it or not Maritimers...made in Lunenberg, Nova Scotia; and last but not least visited what the Spanish Conquistador, Ponce de Leon was searching for...The Fountain of Youth.  As governor of Puerto Rico he had heard rumours of people who lived into their 80's (a rarity for Europeans at the time) and sailed to what is now known as St. Augustine and discovered the Toumatua Indians....tall (over 6 ft) and physically fit into their  80's.  Believing it to be something in the water it has now become a mecca for those wanting a drink from the Fountain of Youth...not believing it, but not wanting to tempt fate...we drank! (Later washed it down with a Martini and Yuengling beer to get rid of the sulphur taste!....but I feel younger already! Interestingly, this Indian tribe practiced genetics.  They bred their biggest males with the biggest females to make big warriors....sorry Ponce!

                                                                                 

                                                                                 

     Finally we get to resupply for the next leg of the trip.  A walk with back pack and carry-all to the nearby Wynn-Dixie grocery store.  Since we needed water, I got to carry a 24 of water in the back pack over a mile back to the boat....Admiral said, "No taxi. We need the exercise!"  So there I am fancy assed owner of fancy assed motor yacht bent forward laden with a $10 case of water labouring to get to the boat and mumbling to myself, "I can think of a lot more fun way to use up the calories! Trouble is I'll be too damned tired to corner the admiral if I do make it home! ugh! Maybe she's smarter than I thought!" This is cruising?
   
    

Titusville to Daytona

     The wind had settled to ten knots by morning and even though it was predicted to match yesterday's velocity it was also predicted to settle down to 5 to 10 knots by late morning.  We decided to go for it. The boat was thickly covered with salt crystals so a few more wouldn't matter and maybe we could get to a place where we could get the salt washed off before it turned the whole boat to rust. Even though the winds were the same velocity, because we were snaking our way between small islands, the waves and salt spray were minimal with only an occasional gust that rocked the boat.

                                                Hundreds of birds...many spoonbills.
                                                                                                                   
     Navigation though was much more intense.  Active Captain had a couple of warning flags about shoaling and Beth concentrated on directing Doc's Holiday around the grounding dangers.  We followed the instructions precisely which included on 2 occassions 90 degree turns at an idle and even though we were passing at near high tide we did see areas that had only 5 foot depths.

                                               Anchorage just before grounding shoals.                                           

    The scenery was interesting. We idled pass two fishermen in an overgrown canal that told us the whole canal was loaded with manatees and although we saw an occasional tail we have yet to have a good look or get a good picture of a manatee.
                                                                        

                                     New Smyrna Beach..Harris Saxon Bridge (MM 846.5)                             
                                                                               

                                                     Ponce De Leon Inlet Lighthouse                                
                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                                  Daytona                        
     As we approached Daytona the winds decreased as predicted and the cruising was smooth. We drifted in to an anchorage just off of a park that had a small boat ramp.  Perfect spot. On the second attempt the delta anchor held in 6 feet of water and we had a nice view of the park and a nearby marina.  It was just 12:30 and the anchorage was reasonably open. Later as more boats entered some of them had difficulty and had to leave to find another anchorage....sometimes it pays to take it slow and anchor early!

                                              Daytona Anchorage at Bethune Point Park
                                        

                                                                      Filling up..                                                
                                                                        
     Checking the boat there were a few repairs that had to be undertaken.  The bimini flapping in the wind from the previous day had pulled out a snap, the dingy battery had to be recharged and we needed to start getting some of this salt washed off the boat.  Once these were done we loaded Spencer into his life jacket and headed for the park. There were no other dogs for him to play with so with direction from one of the kids in the park we headed for what we thought was an outdoor restaurant and some shops.  Within a mile Spencer's tongue was hanging out and the only thing resembling a restaurant was a dilapidated bar!
     It was an old gas station with two cement tables out front, bars on the windows and an open door through which we could see dark figures milling about.  A few Harley Davidson motor bikes were in the gravel parking lot and remnants of pennants declaring "Bike Week" were still hanging from the surrounding board fence.  Johnny Cash's song  "How highs the water Mamma" was  crackling on the only outdoor speaker. We had visited Daytona years ago with Danny and Patty, my brother and sister inlaws and this bar brought back fond memories.  As Beth shook her head No, I entered to get us a couple of cold beers.(after all Spencer's tongue was hanging out...ya...I know...your thinking what the hell has that got to do with anything...but it was the only excuse I could give Beth for why we were having a beer here!)  I immediately met several denizons of the dark bar.  Some burly bikers and some aesthenic wasted waifs, very much like the crowd I grew up with.  These people I understood.  For the most part friendly, trusting only those they have known closely for a long time and wanting some fun in their lives, wanting it so badly that they succumb to the mind numbing effects of alcohol and drugs, and we were about to join them.
   We sat outside enjoying the cold beer and people watching.  Beth directed my attention to a girl across the street walking her dog and pulling a little red wagon behind her.  She appeared to be reasonably dressed with blue jeans and a white blouse but trying to hold the dog on a leash and pulling the little red wagon behind her immediately brought the response from me,  "She's not right!"  We later saw her on the beach picking up stones so maybe I judged too quickly. Maybe she was an artist gathering stones for some art work.  Still not right! But at least acceptable.LOL.
  After a while the denizons were getting louder and when the speaker rang out a song I had never heard before (chorus loudly sung by all in the bar was "Who the f!@#  is Alice!) we laughed and decided to leave.

                                                                                
    We returned to the boat and while Beth prepared chicken kabobs for the barbecue I got busy washing more salt off the windows and as much of the boat as I could reach with a 50 foot hose.
Finishing in time to catch the sunset it was all we could do to keep our eyes open so off to bed. St. Augustine tomorrow where our friend from Beaumont, Brenda Travis assures us we will find the "Fountain of Youth!"

Vero Beach to Titusville

    We pulled out of Vero Beach at 7 am as the sky was just starting to light up with the morning sun. Since  NOAA weather was calling for a calm morning with winds increasing by mid day I wanted to get some distance in before anchoring in Titusville some 60 miles to the north. It was smooth cruising until around 11 am when the winds started and over the course of an hour built to 20 to 25 knots. Since we were in the ICW it was choppy with salt spray constantly being swept away by our windshield wipers, but the motion of the boat was comfortable (meaning not nauseating!)   Beth didn't like the the boat leaning to starboard but even with maximum trim, the winds kept us in what Beth calls "sail boat mode" Spencer didn't like it at all.  He started to shake when the first waves hit the windshield and kept it up so long that we finally gave him 1/4 of his travelling pill to sedate him and settle him down....He may not make it as a boat dog!

                                                               20 knot winds
                                                                               
                                                                               
     Doc's Holiday handled the waves well....except for when two sports cruisers snuck up on us and badly waked us.  If they had called to tell me they were passing I could have moved over, slowed down and crossed into their wake to minimize the roll, but they didn't.  No VHF call, No sound signals. No nothing.  I didn't see them until they were beside me.  Idiots! I was on automatic pilot and at any time the boat wanders somewhat from side to side.  They could have run right into me! The name on the back of one of them was "No Self Control"!  Right name!  I should have reported them but I was more anxious to get anchored out of the wind as soon as possible.

                                 Nasa Shuttle Launch Station, Cape Canaveral                                      

     Surprisingly we eased into 4 feet of water just north of the mooring field in Titusville and the anchor set on first try.  Whew!  Nice view of the land, somewhat protected from the north west wind which settled to 5 to 10 knots overnight and a great view of the dozen or so boats that were really sparsely separated in this large bay.

                                                                          

                                                         Titusville Anchorage                          


     The wind had loosened our bimini top so we folded it up and tide it down with a rope, knowing that if we move the boat to Daytona Beach the next day we would experience the same wind.  The boat is thick with salt from the spray so we may go only as far as New Smyrna Beach, get a slip so we can wash the salt off the boat and wait for the good weather predicted for tomorrow.

                                               Nice way to end an exhausting day.