As you may have noticed, perhaps gratefully, these updates are getting fewer and farther between. Richard and I are getting older, lazier and less inclined to travel long distances and embrace adventure. It makes the updates less gripping.
In Marathon, Jim and Lynda left their boat to the new owner and drove north to British Columbia and their grandchildren on February 21. We stayed for another four days, connecting with our old friends Chris and Divya of Maggie M. I’ve known them since 2002, when I invited everyone in the mooring field at the Los Olas Bridge in Fort Lauderdale (twelve people and a large dog) to a BBQ on my Nonsuch 30. I told them to bring their own meat to barbeque and Chris, who was sitting next to the barbeque, had the good luck to be the cook, as no one could change position. He decided to replicate this event on Maggie M this year and more than succeeded, with fifteen guests.
A day later, I did the laundry at the marina and finished the first update and sent it. That evening Chris and Divya had a rental car so we all went to Sparky’s in Key Colony Beach, With our drinks in Hand, we shared chicken wings, shrimp and oysters. Then we skipped the dinner and shared the three classic Florida desserts, including key lime pie, my favourite.
The next morning we motored north in Hawk’s Channel and went in under the high bridge at Channel 5. At 2 p.m. we picked up the only remaining mooring off of Shell Key. It was so isolated that we took showers without suits and sprawled on the deck to dry, the only time this season.
The two days after that we relaxed at anchor off Isla Morada near the Lorelei, watching movies, listening to music and enjoying the setting of the sun, the new moon and Venus.
On February 28, we moved on to Tarpon Basin and anchored off the Monroe County building, where there are dinghy docks in the park. While reading my emails at the picnic table outside the back entrance, I saw Sylvia the county commissioner and praised her for the action she had taken several years ago to make the shore accessible to cruisers. But she is now planning to close the docks because many live-aboards have come to the area and caused problems in the park. Some would otherwise be homeless and a small number have mental illness. A few had been arrested or asked to leave. I asked why they hadn’t received psychiatric care and she ruefully admitted that the psychiatric hospitals had all been closed. Her solution – the liveaboards should move north.
I read My Father’s Country aloud to Richard It is set in a village in Germany, close to the one he lived in as a child during World War II and focuses on a failed assassination attempt on Hitler.
I painted in the mangrove creeks while we were there; the dinghy, parked in a creek, was my studio. I loved the peace. No power boats came by and there was only the sound of the odd twig cracking, the sighing of the breeze in the branches, and the gentle splashing of fish and singing of birds.
After a week there we sailed north again and dropped our hook in the clear barely deep-enough water north of Sand Key, where only one other boat was anchored a good distance from us. We saw two large loggerhead turtles and several dolphins and swam around the boat there.
On March 9 we sailed over to No Name Harbor and spent a week there. As soon as we got there I did laundry in the aging, privately-owned washer and dryer and hung things all over the boat to complete the drying. But that night we slept on fresh clean sheets.
We were anchored near the entrance and the first night we woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a towboat towing a sailboat into the harbour.
It was Diny on Adventure Quest, a single-handed sailor who had attempted to sail to the Bahamas overnight and had engine problems in the middle of the Gulf Stream. We got to know her well. Richard and later Rick spent time on her boat, helping her solve problems with the motor. She reminded me of myself, when I was sailing alone, but I have to admit she was more resourceful and knowledgeable than I had been. I silently thanked my lucky stars that I was now sailing with a very good mechanic, on his boat.
Alejandro (sp?) came over from his beautiful little classic boat Willow to ask us about the Sand Key anchorage. His a charming young man – an airline pilot for half of the year and a cruiser in the winter.
Richard’s family – Rick, Rebecca and the three boys – arrived by car in the late afternoon on Saturday, March 11. Everyone swam around the boat and supper was a joint effort. Everyone found a place to sleep on Lucky for two nights. There were bodies everywhere!
On Sunday Rick, Rebecca and I went shopping at Wynn-Dixie in their wonderful big car.Own and Dylan drove around in the dinghy and Divy’s little paddle-kayak. Diny joined us for happy hour and Rick BBQed hamburgers for supper. After supper we played Hearts, a new game for me but one I have come to enjoy.
On Monday, after Richard took the bags and Rick and then everybody else to shore in the dinghy, the boat seemed very spacious, but too quiet. It was a lot of fun having them on board.
The next day Richard worked on Divy’s motor again and painted a picture of the mangroves on the bank behind us. Diny brought us pizza and wine. (She wanted to take us out for supper but we didn’t have the wherewithal to go.)
On March 14 we pulled up the anchor and motored to Lake Oleta, at the Baker’s Haulover Cut-off. Very windy. Alejandro sailed in (it had been too windy to sail on the ocean side of the Keys). We had another great visit and cocktails became supper.
The next day we continued north through six or eight bridges that had time-restricted openings and anchored in Boca Raton Lake, a nice quiet place.
Thursday we moved on, bundled up because it was still windy and cold. There were many more bridges and pesky powerboats with big wakes. (Sherry Baby zoomed by us to get to George Bush Bridge but had to wait for us before the bridge would open. Nice.) We got to North Lake Worth at five and at eight p.m. I was in bed reading and Richard was watching TV, chuckling, with his headphones on.
The next day, Friday, March 17, we motored past Peck Lake to Indiantown Marina, on the St. Lucie Canal, arriving at 7 p.m.. There in the entrance, watching for us, was Owen. We happily rafted to Downstream 1 and climbed up on to it to reconnect with Rick, Rebecca and the boys.
On Saturday, Richard and the family went to the flea market in Stuart. I hadn’t had a shower in eleven days so opted out of that jaunt. After my shower, I caught up on emails. I had had no internet for three weeks. (How many people go that long?)
On Sunday Rick took Rebecca, Owen and Dylan to West Palm Beach to catch their flight back to Canada. Work and school were calling.