Still on the move

We’re on the move, truckin north. We left Stuart and had a long day to just north of Titusville where we anchored in a small boat basin that had a number of browsing manatees. These slow moving large mammals feed on the grass that grows on the bottom. They move so slowly that barnacles grow on them. At one time they were endangered, but due to waterway rules are making a strong come back. So much so that the power boaters are lobbying to get them off the endangered species act because part of the legislation requires that they go slow in the manatee habitat zones. The single most killer of manatees are power boats. As I was raising the anchor to leave in the morning one of these gentle creatures can up to the bow where I was pulling in the anchor and gave it a look as if to say, “What is this thing in my domain?” He/she of course was over 6 feet long and weighed about 400 pounds. By the time I got the camera it was gone, submerged to the bottom to feed on the grass, bored with the anchor.

On the way to this anchorage I decided to drag a lure to see if we could haul in some fish for dinner. Sure enough after dragging the lure for untold mile we heard the reel buzz as the line ran out. My first thought was that I had snagged a crab pot so I grabbed the pole and started to reel in the line when what ever was on the line decide to jump. Well it was “fish on.” This one I decided was NOT going to loose by going for the dingy. Well after a hard fight I brought it on board and subdued it with a shot of gin poured into its mouth, consider it a pre-marinade. To my eye what we caught was a bluefish, but T disagrees. Look at the picture and decide for yourself. It was fish Provencal on the menu that night, yum.

After we left the Manatee anchorage we were head for what was going to be a two day jump to St Augustine. The day started out well until we got to the Ponce de Leon Inlet when all hell broke loose. One power boat after another passed us in both directions. It was like being in a washing machine. You see it was Sunday and the morning was beautiful so they were out in force, but the weather was beginning to turn bad (wind and rain) so they were all beating it home as fast as they could. This continued until we got North of Daytona where by this time the weather had deteriorated. We of course continued on until we got to a quiet anchorage with the funny name of the cement plant. You see there was at on time a cement plant down this quiet canal, but not there is just a plant that makes Sea Ray boats. Since there were trees on both sides of this narrow canal we were spared the wind, but not the rain, but all in all it was a peaceful night. The Sea Ray plant served as our early morning (6:30AM) alarm clock so that we could get an early start to St Augustine. The weather started out as cloudy, cool with wind and rain then went to clear and sunny when we got to St. Aug. We had a short day from the Cement plant anchorage so we had the luxury of a walk around the city. It is a beautiful one at that, old and quaint. We (I) had a pint at the local brew pub, which served a very likable red ale (nicely hopped, rich and malty) to wash down some well done calamari served with a spicy wasabi sauce. Life doesn’t get much better than that. Then it was showers and back to the boat for a good nights sleep for we were leaving at first light so that we could get all the way to Fernandina, which is on the Ga/Fl border. It was a long but un-eventful trip except for coming across some old friends who we met on the way down it Vero and Stuart. It is truly amazing how you seem to run across the same people again and again.

I am typing this as I sit in the laundry at Fernandina waiting for the clothes to dry. Terri is off to the super market. We have pick up a mooring here and have decided on a lay day, staying two nights to rest, re-provision and relax. We will get off tomorrow and make a dent in Georgia intending on stopping off in Savanna for a visit since we missed it on the way down. The warm weather is holding so we want to get as far north as possible.

Well we’re on the move again. We apologize to those of you who might have been waiting for more frequent reports, but we were busy having fun. We left Boot Key Harbor with strong winds out of the south east, initially going west so that we could go through Moser Channel and get to the Florida Bay side of the Key where we hoped the ride on the lee side of the Key would afford us a smoother ride. NOAA had told us we were in store for winds in the range of 15 to 20 knots, well boy did they get that wrong. It was blowing a steady 25 with gust to 32, but the old girl was able to handle it, thank you Sparkman & Stevens (designers of the venerable T34C). Once we got into the lee of the keys the waves settled down and we were able to raise a little sail. While it was a rough trip we made good time and had a right nice sail. We spent the night off of Islalamorada in the Cowpens anchorage (N24 59.1290 W080 33.7250). By this time the winds had settled to 10 to 15 and we had a peaceful sleep rocking to the winds. Our next jump was to a small key just south of Miami call Boca Chita (see the pictures attached) (N25 31.4489 W080 10.5079). This little key was the province of the bloke that started The Honeywell Company back in the 30s. He built a bunch of stone buildings out of coral there as a retreat, including the light house you see to the right. He also built a nice little protected harbor where you see Aeolus moored. Currently it is part of the National Park that is Biscayne Bay. The only down side was that the bugs were fierce, Moseys and no-see-ums. If you went out at dusk, you gave blood but not to the American Red Cross. From here we had an uneventful sail up Biscayne Bay to Miami this motored up the ICW to Hollywood, Florida where my brother lives. Here we stayed for two nights on the hook, visiting and provisioning. We got hassled here for the first time in our trip. Apparently Hollywood has an ordinance against overnight anchoring and someone complained. So the police boat came up and told us, very politely that we could not anchor here overnight. We did not press it but we knew that such ordinances have been rule against by the Florida Supreme court. They can not regulate boats in transit (such as us) but can so called live aboards.

Our next jump took us off shore and along the Florida coast from Fort Lauderdale to the Lake Worth/Palm Beach inlet, about a 40 mile jaunt. For the first time we trailed a fishing line and sure enough we hooked something. A Chinese fire drill ensued in and attempt to slow the boat and pull in the dinghy which was trailing behind. As I reeled the fish closer to the boat we realized that we had hooked a Mai-Mai due to its shimmering turquoise color. We had visions of a great dinner that night, but the fish had other ideas when it made a bee-line for the dinghy where it cut the line on the transom. Fish one, Aeolus, zero, dinner it was not to be. I rigged another lure in hopes that we would could even the score. We did pass right by a fish roil where some small tunas were feasting on some small fish, but none were fooled by the green day-glow lure we were trailing.

We made the Lake Worth inlet around 3:00 and proceeded to motor in when the diesel began to run rough. Being low on fuel I expected that perhaps we were either sucking air into the fuel lines or crud which was blocking the filter due to the washing machine water at the entrance. We idled back the engine and came in under sail, limping our way into an anchorage just south of the inlet where the motor just died so we just dropped the anchor (N26 45.4440 W080 02.6379). My first thoughts were to get more fuel in the tank so that we could be sure that we were not sucking air or crud, but by the time I got the dinghy motor on and got to the closes marina, it was closed. I went back the next morning and got 5 gallons of fuel, dumped it into the tank and proceeded to bleed any air out of the system. This is where the gremlin appeared. As I was expunging the air from the fuel filter I noticed what appeared to be a drip of diesel fuel from its bottom. Reaching down under I felt what appeared to be a plug on the bottom so I though it must be loose. When I grabbed it and turned it with my fingers it broke off completely allowing a steady stream of diesel fuel into the bilge. I did my best impression of the Dutch boy and the dike while Terri got me a container to catch the flow of fuel. We caught about a quart of fuel which emptied the filter whereupon we removed the filter to asses the damage. Apparently the head of the nylon bolt that they used to plug a hole in the bottom of the filter had sheared off so for the next 5 hours I spend in Palm Beach trying to find a replacement, which I finally did. By this time the wind was blowing 20 -25 out on the anchorage and I have to ride the dinghy straight into it for about 2 miles. Talk about a bucking bronco thank god I had a 5 horse engine to push me along.

The replacement plug stemmed the leak and after we bled the air out of the system the Yanmar was running like a top. I speculated that the problems we had at the inlet were related to this broken plug, allowing the engine to suck in air into the fuel system and finally stopping us. Problem solved, but we stayed another night here because of the heavy winds that were howling out of the north and it was late.

We are currently in Stuart again after an uneventful trip from Palm Beach. We did have one amusing incident. We can up on one of the five draw bridges and announced ourselves to the bridge tender “PGA bridge, PGA bridge, PGA bridge this is the northbound sailing vessel Aeolus standing by for your 11:30 opening”. PGA bridge back to us “roger that, the bridge will open in 4 minutes”. About three minutes later the PGA bridge response to us “Aeolus I don’t see you”, us to PGA “we’re right in front of your bridge next to the Idle speed sign”, PGA bridge to us, “I still do not see you”. AT this point the Parker Bridge tender breaks in and says “I believe you are waiting in front of the Parker Bridge.” I looked up at the sign on the bridge and so we were, the next bridge up the line was the PGA Bridge. Slightly embarrassed we went through the Parker Bridge and motored up one mile to the PGA Bridge.