From our new anchorage spot at Miami’s Marine Stadium we had a different view of the city’s night  skyline.  This is looking across Biscayne Bay at the southern part of the city near the Miami River.  The Rickenbacker Causeway is just out of sight to the left.

When we arrived at Elliott Key there were only a few boats.  When the weekend crowds came that changed.  The early morning stillness did not last into the day.

Back at the Marine Stadium you can see Miami in daylight.  Over toward the right is a small island with a sand beach.  It is much closer to us than the city.  This was the scene of a back and forth, cat and mouse game between the people who came to play on the beach and the Miami Police who were enforcing the mayor’s beach closure order.  While the police had helicopters and high speed boats, it was not quite as exciting as Miami Vice.

Protected by his hand sewn mask and rubber gloves and with a pocket full of wipes saved from Publix weeks before,  Bill returns in the dinghy with 30 gallons of water, 15 gallons of diesel fuel, and a gallon of gasoline to fill our tanks for the start of our journey north.

I baked us a loaf of bread saving us a trip to the store. 

Spring is on its way, and we are on our way home.

When I last wrote, we were anchored in Miami Beach and planned to go to the Florida Keys, around to the west coast of Florida, then back to the Florida east coast by passing through the Okeechobee Waterway.  Well, as soon as we were ready to leave, the roads into the Keys were closed to all but residents.  Just to make it obvious that we weren’t wanted, Monroe County closed the bars, restaurants, marinas, beaches, and parks.  Key West even closed the sunset.  Bill and I took the hint and decided not to go there.  Our earlier decision not to go to the Bahamas turned out to be most fortunate.  The Bahamian restrictions on cruisers have gradually become increasingly severe.  Currently, not only are foreign boats prohibited from entering the Bahamas for any reason, but if already there they must stay in a single place, they cannot travel from one island to another, they must register with the national government, and they cannot go ashore.  All foreign boats are encouraged to leave as soon as it can safely be done.  Foreigners must seek medical aid in their home country, not in the Bahamas.  I am glad we did not go.

Even in Miami Beach the things we usually enjoyed doing either were closed or prohibited by Emergency Orders.  I thought it unwise for us to even go ashore to walk around because we were both 69 years old and Dade County was the Florida virus hotspot.  With little to do, we decided we needed a change of scenery and motored south about 5 miles to anchor in the Marine Stadium at Virginia Key.  This anchorage gave us a different view of the Miami skyline.  The state, county, and city Emergency Orders that were designed to discourage boating seemed to have little effect in the Marine Stadium.  Every afternoon motorboats and jet skis whizzed around with loud Latin music.  One morning when it was still quiet and calm, Bill said, “I think I’ll take the engine apart today.”  I was horrified and talked him out of that project.  Instead of taking apart the engine, he took apart the toilet, the only other necessary part of the boat, to repair a valve which had been leaking seawater into the bowl.  He stopped the leak and got the toilet back together before I needed it.  Whew.  Later, he did take the engine apart; well, not really.  He took the rocker arm cover off and adjusted the valve clearances.  Our little diesel was suddenly much quieter.

After being at the Marine Stadium for a couple of days, we decided to go a little farther south to Elliott Key.  Elliott Key is the most northern of the Florida Keys and is part of the Biscayne Bay National Park.  All the shore side facilities at the park were closed, but it would be a change of scenery.  We spent the weekend anchored with about fifty other boats.  It was a hang out and party spot for local boats providing small sand beaches for lounging and a dock that gave access to trails on the island. Folks took their dinghies to the beaches, set up umbrellas, laid out on beach towels, and waded in the water.   One large boat tied up to the dock and the crew went inland.  It was not long before a police helicopter repeatedly swooped above the crowd with flashing blue lights, a siren, and a loudspeaker telling people that the beach and dock were closed, and that everyone must leave.  The next morning a police boat came and strung yellow tape along both sides of the dock.  The foiled beach parties resumed on several boats and continued all weekend.  Binoculars made the anchorage a great people watching spot. 

A coming west wind would make our Elliott Key anchorage uncomfortable, so we moved back to the Marine Stadium.  A small island with a white sand beach was behind us.  Like all public and private beaches in Dade County, the beach was “closed”.  That had no effect on the people in motorboats who would anchor just off the island then go to the beach.  We watched the periodic arrival of Miami police by helicopter or boat, the evacuation of everyone from the beach, the departure of the police, and the return of the people to the beach.  It was like watching a basketball game where two evenly matched teams alternate scoring with neither gaining an advantage.  We cheered for both sides.  Even encircling the island with yellow police tape failed to upset the balance in the game. 

Tiring of the unresolved skirmishing for the island and the co-current nearby battle of competing boat stereo systems, we returned to my favorite, quiet, and uncrowded Miami Beach spot between the Julia Tuttle Causeway and the Sunset Isles.  We just hung out on Irish Eyes reading, knitting, occasionally watching a movie, and listening to the Sirius radio work its way through the top 1000 classic rock songs, top 1000 classic pop sounds….  It was time to go.

 

It was mandatory to wear a mask in Miami Beach, so Bill sewed himself a mask out of a blue car washing towel.  Masked and gloved, he took the dinghy and returned with fuel and water to fill our tanks.  There was plenty of food on the boat, so we skipped a trip to the grocery store.  We put the dinghy on the deck, cleaned a month’s worth of marine growth off its bottom, folded it away, and left Miami.  There were small craft warnings offshore, so we motored north in the ICW through all the bridges.  There was little boat traffic until we got to Fort Lauderdale where the traffic picked up dying away again past the St Lucie Inlet. 

Tonight, we are anchored for our second night in Fort Pierce waiting for the wind and rain to leave before we do.  Back when we planned to go to the Bahamas, I sent all my warm clothes to our daughter Julia.  I have a pair of capri length pants, one three quarter length sleeved shirt, and a sweatshirt.  I also have a pair of socks because I knitted them.  We’ll travel north slowly to be sure that spring stays ahead of us going no farther north than the tee shirt weather.  We are headed back to New Bern then home to Kingsport.

 

Hope to see you distantly soon.  Stay at home, it’s the only safe place.