The Southport storm put almost 4” of water in our rain gauge.  Traveling on the Waccamaw River between Myrtle Beach and Georgetown, we could see its effects.  The river was out of its banks and flowing fast.  This house had the water up to its doorstep; others were worse.  We normally motor at about 5.5 knots.  That is how fast we travel through the water.  But here, the water is moving in the same direction that we are moving, so together we are making over 8 knots.

Just south of Beaufort, SC we ran into fog.  Hidden behind the haze were a pair of nearby highway bridges, and a park like shoreline, and the naval hospital.  Like you, all we could see was fog and our lifeline.

In Georgia this huge collection of tugs, dredges, barges, and floating dredge pipe met us.  They were going north.  We moved way over to the side to let them past.

The 656-foot-long car transporting ship, Golden Ray, rolled over on its side last September as it was leaving Brunswick, Georgia.  It had 4300 cars still on board.  They will soon begin slicing it into eight pieces to get it out of the channel.  You are looking at its bottom.  This was as close as we could come to it.

In Port Everglades I saw this cargo ship with a sailboat perched on its foredeck.  I wonder where it is going.

A motor yacht came and anchored behind us for a few days.  It had the little umbrella on its bow.  I had a similar umbrella on my drink.

This 200+ foot long motor yacht is docked east of us.  Like most large (and some not so large) yachts, it does not fly an American flag.  The flag you see is the Marshall Islands.  That is in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  I doubt that it has ever even been there.  Its name is Utopia IV, and Google can tell you more.

To our west is the Miami skyline.  We get this view every evening.  Nice, isn't it?


Hello from sunny and warm Miami Beach.  I hope you are all well and polishing your newly learned Social Distancing Skills.  On our floating home Bill and I are definitely good at Social Distancing.  We are 200+ yards away from any land or other boat and farther still from any person.

After all our mechanical troubles were resolved, our trip south was relatively easy.  It was cold, but it was not nearly as cold as in past years.  To stay warm outside, I never had to wear two pairs of wool long underwear or two pairs of socks.  We navigated the shallow ICW trouble spots without incident due to luck with the tides, recent dredging, and river flooding.  Against my long-held opinion that travelling on the ICW in the dark was not a good idea, we did do a short trip in the dark.  After going through the Wappoo Creek Bridge, south of Charleston at 3pm, we agreed it was too early to stop for the night.  I asked Bill if he had a place picked to anchor before dark.  “Of course, there is a perfect spot”, was the reply.  Well, the guidebook said the spot had room for two boats.  When we got there, exactly two boats were anchored in our spot.  There was nothing to do but to push on.  The sun went down, and we motored in the dark for about an hour before arriving at Church Creek on Johns Island.  My opinion proved correct; navigating the ICW in the dark proved both scary and dumb.  Even with our radar and GPS, all around us were the lurking beasts and terrors that we could not see.

In the morning a few days later in Beaufort, SC, it was cloudy, and rain was predicted to begin in the afternoon.  We raised the anchor just after sunrise and headed south.  Only thirty minutes into the trip, fog descended.  I mean thick, dense fog that obscured anything not on the boat.  We managed to creep over close to the shore without hitting it and dropped the anchor.  The fog lifted a couple of hours later, and we were on our way.

I think our coldest day was February 29th.  Well, the temperature may not have been the coldest, but the wind was blowing at a steady 25 knots which made it feel cold.  We were crossing St. Andrew’s Sound between Jekyll Island and Cumberland Island.  The wind was on our nose, and waves were breaking over the bow of the boat.  In addition to my worries about the weather, we motored past some folks in kayaks who were paddling across St. Andrews Sound.  Both Bill and I remarked that they should not have been out there.  Hours later we heard them call the Coast Guard.  A 53-year-old woman was missing.  A helicopter and boat were dispatched for the search.  Long story short, they found the yellow kayak pulled up on shore at Cumberland Island with footprints in the sand, but we never learned the rest of the story.

Once past Cumberland Island we were in Florida!  Each day was warmer than the one before.  A stop in Vero Beach was in our plans.  Bill had ordered a cell phone booster and some other stuff from Amazon.  I had ordered some knitting needles and a pair of shoes.  All would be delivered to the Vero Beach City Marina.  It was also time to shop for a few groceries, have an unlimited hot water shower, and get off the boat.  We had on board an antique double barrel shotgun that last belonged to Bill’s deceased stepmother.  Bill’s step nephew Cyrus, who lives in Stuart, wanted the gun.  He came to Vero Beach, we gave him the gun, then we all had a lovely restaurant meal and visit.  My missions in Vero Beach were accomplished: I had my new shoes and knitting needles, and the shotgun was off the boat.

Corona Virus began to fill the evening radio news.  We continued south.  The two-day trip through Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale to Miami was trying.  There were 27 bridges that had to open for us.  Most had a fixed schedule, and we were forced to wait at those bridges for a scheduled opening.  All went well until we arrived at the Fourteenth Street Bridge in Pompano Beach.  It was broken, could not open, and took two hours to repair.  We were the first boat at the bridge, but there was a long line of boats assembled behind us.  When the bridge finally did open, the parade began.  We were slow, and the others were faster.  As we went from one bridge to the next, first one, then another, and finally all the other boats overtook us, but we were always in the parade.  The faster boats got to each bridge at its scheduled opening time, and the bridge stayed open until the whole parade had passed through.  That way we got all the way through Ft Lauderdale without waiting on a single bridge.  It was a record for us.  

We were in Sunny Isles Beach when the sun began to set.  A right turn, a trip down a long canal, and we were anchored in Lake Maule for a peaceful and quiet night.  It rained a little in the morning, and after the showers moved away, we left for Miami.  Bill was on the bow putting away the anchor and cleaning up the deck when I tried to leave the lake by the wrong canal.  The one I entered was a narrow dead end canal with boats docked on both sides.  There was no way to turn around.  Panic!  Bill took over, revved the engine in reverse, straightened the boat out, and backed us out of the canal as the neighborhood dogs barked their heads off.  Whew.  It was not a good way to start the day.

Three more bridges opened for us, and we dropped our anchor here in Miami Beach south of the Julia Tuttle Causeway just after noon on March 12.  It was our latest arrival in Miami Beach.  The Corona Virus news continued to get worse.  The Mayor of Miami Beach told the Spring Breakers, “Go home.  The party is over”.  The crowd started thinning.  The next day Bill got a prescription refilled and picked up an Amazon package from an Amazon Locker.  I got a haircut.  The guy who cut my hair was very pleased with his work.  Me, not so much.  My hair was left shorter than Bill’s.  Oh well, I will not have to have another haircut for quite a while.

On Saturday we went to Lincoln Road, a popular Miami Beach pedestrian outdoor mall, and stopped at our usual pizza place.  At 1pm only two of their thirty or so outside tables were occupied, and we were one of them.  The promenading crowds that we love to watch and comment on were sparse to say the least.  That afternoon all restaurants and bars with occupancy of 250 or more were ordered closed, and the others were reduced to half their licensed capacity.  Later, all the restaurants were made take-out or delivery only.  First, much of the beach was closed, then all the beach was closed.  At Publix on Tuesday. there were a few packages of fresh beef but not any chicken or pork.  The egg shelf was bare, and rice and pasta were rationed.  There were no paper products, no Clorox, no hand wipes, no flour, and no bottled water.  At the laundromat Wednesday rules were posted --- one person per family in the establishment at a time, put your clothes in the washer and then wait outside, put the clothes in the dryer and wait outside, no folding allowed in the store, and keep away from other people.  We obeyed the rules.  The crowds were gone.  The street traffic was light.  By Wednesday our necessary onshore chores were completed.  The boat is now stocked.  Except for a fuel and water run, we do not plan to go back into town.

With all the concern about Corona Virus, Bill and I have decided to make this year’s trip, ‘Irish Eyes to Florida’.  We are worried we could leave for the Bahamas and be refused entry.  We are also worried that if we left we might not be able to get back into the US.  The areas we like to visit in the Bahamas lack medical services.  Most of the food in the Bahamian stores there comes from the US.  I am sure the shipments will soon become slim.  I do not need to eat their food.  Instead of going the Bahamas, we are going to go south through the Keys, around the bottom of Florida, up the west coast, and return via the Okeechobee Canal.  There are lots of places to anchor with no shore access.  That is fine.  Bill can work on his boat projects, and I can knit while we watch the sunsets from our cockpit alone.  We have plenty of food and toilet paper, gin and tonic water.  We’re all set.

Stay well and safe.  We’ll try to do the same.