We were in Black Point for the Easter Bahamian Sloop Races.  They raced class C boats which are smaller than the class A and B boats.  There were six boats racing, and everyone racing seemed to be having a good time.

 

The boats have huge sails for their size and boards called ‘the pry’ to lever them upright.  Otherwise, they would turn over and sink.  You can see that this boat’s sail has been enlarged with an extra panel of cloth.  It will need a heavier crew sitting farther out on the pry to avoid a capsize.

 

This worrisome cloud appeared before the second day’s racing, but the races went on anyway.  Yes, it rained, and the wind blew.

 

The races were closely contested with the boats evenly matched.

 

It was windy, and even with a reduced size sail the crew had difficulty keeping the boat upright.

 

This was only a part of Bill’s beach junk collection.  He brings this sort of stuff back to the boat.  We have no room for it.  It had to go… and it did.

 

More of Bill’s beach junk.  He used most of his collection to mark a trail that crosses Great Guana Cay.  This life ring and yellow rope look sort of like Gilligan’s Island.  They are at the east end of the trail.

 

Look at my shells from a morning walk on the beach.  They are in a ‘looky bucket’ with a clear plastic bottom.  I hold the bucket in the water while walking in the shallow water just off the beach, and I can clearly see the shells on the sand below.  That way I can get the shells before they wash up on the beach.

 

Our dinghy has wheels making it easy to pull the dinghy up on the beach.  They came from New Zealand and fold down like airplane wheels.

  

Hey y’all from Big Farmer’s Cay, Exuma, Bahamas.  This may be as far south as we go this year and the spot where we turn around and head north toward home.

On our last day at Hawksbill Cay, Bill took the dinghy to the beach to walk across the island through the brush and rocks to the southern anchorage.  Because it would not be on a path, I chose to stay on Irish Eyes.  I have been warned by my medical team not to fall down and hurt my new knee.  While he was gone, the floatplane we had seen at Norman’s Cay Cut days ago brought in a family to play on the beach near our boat.  Bill missed all the excitement.  The plane managed to land threading its way through the eight empty mooring balls that lay in its path.  It was quite a feat!  It taxied over to the beach and dropped an anchor.  The family played on the beach and in the water for an hour or so.  Then, everyone boarded the plane and left despite the loud and angry protests from the youngest child who was previously quite happy playing with his unlimited amount of sand.  I wonder what that short outing cost.

We left Hawksbill Cay on Monday, April 4, motoring south to Warderick Wells, the island home of the Exuma Land and Sea Park Headquarters.  We picked up a mooring ball in the south mooring field near Emerald Rock.  Bill made a device for me to use when picking up a mooring.  I snagged the heavy 1-1/2” rope with his special hook and had it aboard on my first try.  That gave me the right to criticize the sometimes-failing efforts of those on the boats that arrived after us.  Bill took the dinghy to the office to pay for the mooring, then he climbed Boo Boo Hill to retrieve our sign.  It was not to be found.  Three years had passed since we last were there, and the board seemed to have vanished.  Bill was determined to find it.  The next morning, he printed out a photo of the sign that we had taken in 2019 and went looking again.  With the photo in hand like a pirate’s treasure map, Bill started digging through the heap.  There it was, under three years of accumulation, right in the spot where we left it.  Success!  Bill brought the sign back to Irish Eyes where he put MMXXII on it.  The cracked and weathered sign recalls all our trips, and we decided to bring it home with us.  I’m not exactly sure where we will hang it in our house, but that will be a dilemma for another day.  Bill carved “Irish Eyes” on a well-worn slab of driftwood, and we both went to the top of Boo Boo Hill to add it to the stack.  [Just a bit of trivia, Jimmy Buffett’s last album “Life on the Flip Side” has the song “Book on the Shelf” that mentions the boards upon Boo Boo Hill and has a picture of him atop the hill with the big pile in the background.]

After spending a rocky night at Emerald Rock and expecting increasing winds with the approaching cold front, we let go of our mooring ball and headed south to the better protected Cambridge Cay.  It was a rough trip sailing into the 15 to 17 knot wind with waves splashing over the bow of the boat.  We survived, arrived, and picked up the next to the last available mooring.  The following four days were windy, but we were comfortable, well protected from the waves and spending our time walking the nearby beaches.  Our only excitement came on a dinghy trip to some more distant beaches.  About a mile and a half away from Irish Eyes, the 8 hp outboard motor suddenly stopped and would not re-start.  Faced with a long long row into the wind, Bill dug into our emergency kit for tools and went to work.  He cleaned the spark plugs, drained any water from the carburetor bowl, made sure gasoline was getting to the engine, disconnected the stop switch, and just messed with it.  He finally got the engine to start at wide open throttle and part choke.  It ran, missing, coughing, and spitting, but it ran.  We came straight back to the boat where the thing quit again yards from the boat.  He rowed the last little bit.  We had a spare carburetor aboard, Bill swapped the carburetors, and the engine ran fine starting on the second pull.

Our next port of call was Staniel Cay.  We needed water, fuel, clean laundry, and a few groceries.  The fuel and water were available at the Yacht Club fuel dock, but boats were circling waiting their chance to dock there.  This operation was interesting to listen to on the VHF radio.  It was, as usual, quite uncivil.  Accusations of queue jumping, arguments over right-of-way in the narrow current ridden area, and the lambasting of the occasional boat that just drove up and docked without waiting filled the airwaves.  The dock attendant let the boats sort themselves out, just doing his job, manning the pumps, and avoiding the fray.  Bill took our fuel and water jugs in the dinghy to the inaccessible back side of fuel dock, filled them there, and returned.  In a relatively fast four trips we had 60 gallons of water, 25 gallons of diesel fuel, and a gallon of gasoline.  We went to the Yacht Club for lunch electing to sit in the fancier part of the restaurant rather than the crowded bar area.  This despite the fact I had on a bathing suit and tee shirt and did not meet the dress code.  It is one thing to go into a crowded place at home where I kind of know where most folks have been, and still another when I am in a room of twenty-five here where the people could have come from twenty-five different countries.  Ahh, COVID!  We did our grocery shopping after lunch and returned to Irish Eyes to rest and digest our big lunches.

It had been 49 days since I last did laundry.  The pile was large and, well, aromatic.  The laundromat in Staniel Cay was also a bar and liquor store.  We arrived at the laundromat around 11:00.  The proprietress was busy putting laundry in and out of machines.  There were piles of laundry everywhere, some in plastic boxes and some in bags.  The lady said we would have to wait and come back about 2:00.  That was fine, it was just another excuse for a Yacht Club lunch.  This time we ate outside on the docks watching the tour boat tourists wade among the swimming sharks.  Not me, they maybe gentle nurse sharks, but they still have teeth!  We wandered back to the laundromat after lunch, and I did our three big loads of laundry in about three hours.  It was a pleasant time sitting on the porch, drinking a beer, and chatting with the folks who came in to leave laundry, have a drink, or buy some booze.  I thought it was not a bad way to spend the afternoon.  Bill went for a walk.  I got a giggle from a group of young Americans who came in to buy a case of beer to enjoy at their rental house, but after discovering it was a $67 item, decided there were better things to spend their money on.  Things are not cheap here.

Having completed our required errands and with the wind blowing 20 knots, we moved Irish Eyes the mile or so to Big Major’s Spot.  This is where the famous swimming pigs live.  We have seen the pigs several times and did not have any desire to feed them.  It was fun to watch the tour boats from Nassau and George Town arrive and then listen to the squeals of the passengers when the pigs got too close.  It did not take much to entertain them.  We swam and did some beach walking too.

Bored with the pigs, we moved on south to Black Point on Good Friday, the first of two days of Bahamian sloop races.  The class C boats were racing in what I think were practice races for the abbreviated National Family Islands Regatta to be held in George Town the following week.  Our anchor spot was perfect for viewing the boats racing along.  Cruisers were encouraged to join the Bahamian crews for these races.  Bill and I did not think we would be an asset and declined.  I was afraid I would do something wrong and cause the boat to lose, and Bill doesn’t weigh enough to be useful on the pry.  Between intervals of sunny weather, it rained, and the wind howled, but the races went on anyway with lots of excitement.  There were right of way violations and collisions.  One of the race boats was sunk in 10 feet of water, but it was refloated, repaired, and raced the next day.

On Sunday, we decided to have our Easter lunch on shore.  It was decision time… would it be Lorraine’s Café or Scorpio’s Bar & Grill?  Both places had people from tour boats in for lunch.  The folks at Lorraine’s were eating outside and at Scorpio’s inside.  We ate at Lorraine’s inside basically alone with the bar tender and cook.  Lorraine stopped by after church, and we complemented her on the expansions and improvements she had made to the café.  Next, we went over to Scorpio’s for two bottles of rum for the boat.  He was also expanding with a new waterside building.  We had a very nice Easter Sunday.

The wind was forecast to blow from the northeast at 20 to 25 knots with gusts to 30 knots for the next seven to ten days.  We had seen boat races in Black Point, and it would be unpleasant traveling to George Town in the unprotected Exuma Sound, so we decided to not go to George Town for the Regatta which would only have the little boats anyway.  Instead, we adopted for the beach-a-day plan, planning to move every day or two from one beach to the next down the protected banks side of Great Guana Cay.  We bypassed Little Bay and Jack’s Bay Cove planning to stop there on our way back north.  We first went to White Point, then onto Hetty’s Land.  We walked both beaches and found some beach treasures.  Bill went across the island at Hetty’s Land a couple of times to watch the waves break on the rocky shore and to search for ‘good’ beach trash.  He also rigged up his stuff for measuring the load on our anchor and experimented with our riding sail.  Our next stop was Isaac Bay, about 2 miles south of Hetty’s Land.  There were three beaches there, and I walked all three of them.  Bill bushwhacked through the scrub vegetation to the exposed east shore.  He came back with two big (2 foot) spherical fishing floats and tales of more.  The things filled our cockpit leaving me no place to sit.  Then, it was down to Bay Rush Bay where years ago we abandoned a sea kayak with a glass (plastic) bottom that we found on the east shore.  Bill used four of his collected big fishing floats and a life ring to mark the trail where we left the kayak.  We now have only two floats aboard.

Yesterday, we came down to Big Farmer’s Cay anchoring in the deepest (2 meter) spot of water west of the cay.  I’ve already collected a pile of sand dollars from the shallows and baked a loaf of bread.  We have looked at the calendar and at our past trips and decided it is time to return north if we are to be home in early June, so this is as far south as we will get this year.

Cheers.

 

Twenty-seven hours after leaving Key Biscayne, we anchored at Morgan’s Bluff, Bill went ashore to deal with the formalities of entering a foreign country, then we both went ashore for a celebratory Kalik or two and lunch.  This was the view into the outer harbor from our table.

 

Captain Henry Morgan (of rum fame) was an English privateer plundering Spanish shipping.  He supposably hid his plunder in this cave.  Bill crawled around for half an hour not finding the “X”.  It has got to be in there somewhere.

 

These people flew in on a Cessna 208 landing behind us to go snorkeling on the corroded remains of a cocaine runner’s crashed airplane behind us.  It is no wonder that rich people die in small plane crashes.

 

On takeoff the pilot backed up a couple of thousand feet behind us, gunned the engine, and came roaring at us.  Taking off just to our starboard side, his port wing dipped, and for an instant it looked like he was going to hit us.

 

The southern interior of Norman’s Cay is a shallow sand filled basin that nearly all dries out at low tide.  That area and the nearby beaches were fun to explore.

 

This is sunrise looking east behind our boat at three more boats anchored behind us in Norman’s Cay Cut.  We are all there hiding from the west winds of three cold fronts in quick succession.

 

Looking at a bright yellow boat at Shroud Cay one day and doubting my sanity, I said, “I’d swear that boat was blue.”  Two days later I understood why.

Bill found this sling chair washed up on the rocks on the north sound side beach on Hawksbill Cay., repaired it, and moved it to our beach.  That is our dinghy and Irish Eyes in the distance.  As Zac Brown said, "I've got my toes in the water, ass in the sand..."

 

Greetings from Hawksbill Cay, Exuma, the Bahamas.  As you can tell we decided to leave Miami and to come to the Bahamas rather than continue south to the Florida Keys.  The Bahamas travel restrictions were eased a bit; all we needed was a negative Covid test taken less than 72 hours before our arrival and some online paperwork.  It all sounded easy to do, and it was, well, except for the on-line paperwork, but more on that later.

The effects of Covid on the Miami Beach tourist economy were obvious.  Several restaurants where we have enjoyed meals in years past were no more.  Long time businesses we had frequented in years past had their windows filled with ‘closed’, ‘available’, and ‘for rent’ signs.  Miami Beach did not seem to have many foreign or domestic tourists, but they still expected to have thousands of young Spring Breakers with all the problems they bring.

In Miami we were anchored near our friends from the boat Dots Way, Dorothy and Glen.  We had not seen them in three years, so we spent a lovely evening chatting in our cockpit over drinks and snacks while we ‘caught up’.

One Saturday a cold front was to pass over Miami bringing strong west winds.  Our anchorage near Mt. Sinai Hospital was open to the west, and we expected it to become rolly.  Early that Saturday we pulled up our anchor and motored over to anchor between Star and Plum Islands for better protection.  Star Island has several “stars” who live there.  Miami tour boats cruise the area pointing out their houses.  With a crummy weather forecast, we thought the boat traffic would be light.  Boy, were we wrong!  Groups of partying Spring Breakers had chartered large motor vessels to have a fun time.  Since our spot was protected from the wind and waves, lots of the boats came to keep us company and share their music with us.  It was a harrowing afternoon with these large boats dragging their anchors in the 30 kt wind and coming far too close to us for comfort.  I googled the cost of one of these charters.  It was listed at $3000 for a half day.  I could not tell if alcohol and food were included in that price, but I do know alcohol was being consumed at a ferocious rate.  I may be showing my age, but when I was a college student, I did not have any portion of $3000.00 to spend on a half day party cruise.  Thankfully, not long after sundown the charters ended, and all the boats went home.  At sunrise, we moved back to our quiet anchorage near Mt. Sinai Hospital and vowed not to repeat that mistake again.

After Bill and I decided to go to the Bahamas, we instantly had a long to-do-list.  We needed fuel, water, food, booze, beer, and Diet Coke.  I know Diet Coke is horrible stuff filled with chemicals and carcinogens, but we drink it anyway.  It’s perfect for diluting rum.  Instead of buying cases upon cases of cans we usually buy a 5 gal bag-in-box of the syrup, dilute it with water in empty 1 liter tonic bottles, then charge the bottles with carbon dioxide from a 5 lb cylinder that Bill has on board.  The box is the equal of 13 cases of cans but takes up much less space.  Sam’s Club has stopped carrying Coke products, so we left home without a box.  I googled around and found a food distributor in Miami that sold the syrup.  I ordered it online for local pick-up from Gordon’s Food Service.  Bill and I gathered our folding hand truck, added money on-line to our Miami transit cards, and took two different buses to collect our order in Miami’s Little Havana.  The first employee we met did not speak English at all and despite Mrs. Leffler’s best effort in high school Bill does not speak Spanish, the second employee could not decode our accents, but finally a third employee understood us and brought us our 45 lb box expecting us to put it in the trunk of our car.  Out of his sight, we tied the box to our hand truck and pushed it down the street looking for the first of our three return buses.  I can imagine that the employees were trying to figure out what in the world two, old, pasty-white, English-speaking folks were going to do with all that Diet Coke Syrup!

By Wednesday afternoon March 16, the shopping was complete, everything was put away, we had two negative Covid tests, the slimy dinghy bottom was scrubbed clean, the dinghy and outboard motor were aboard, and we were ready to move to No Name Harbor on Biscayne Bay to anchor for the night so we could leave before sunrise on Thursday.  The only thing left to do was to fill out our customs and immigration forms online and get our Bahamas visas.  Bill quicky gave up in frustration and turned the job over to me.  It took me over 3 hours to get all the forms filled out, the various fees paid, and the documents printed.  This was the first year the Bahamas has had this online entry process.  The website needs some serious simplification.  Bill hummed tunes, whistled, and laughed while doing boaty stuff while I huddled over the computer fuming, cursing, and filling out forms.  We finally left Miami Beach at 6pm anchoring just after sunset outside No Name Harbor.

The alarm went off at 4am (ugh) and we were underway by 5am.  The crossing to the Bahamas was fairly easy.  We were able to sail across the Gulf Stream passing north of Bimini around 3pm, but after turning southeast into the wind on the Great Bahama Bank, we had to take down our sails.  The motor chugged all night while Bill and I took turns watching the boat and napping.  We did not see much boat traffic during the night this time.  Irish Eyes was anchored in the harbor at Morgan’s Bluff on Andros Island by 8am on Friday.  Bill went to shore and cleared us with Customs and Immigration.  My computer paperwork was fine.  We took the dinghy into the inner harbor and had a lovely lunch at Unca Harvey’s Water Loop.  The rest of the day we napped.

There is a cave in Morgan’s Bluff where Sir Henry Morgan, a pirate, is said to have hidden out and stashed some of his treasure.  Bill and I explored the area on Saturday finding the cave.  The entrance required a slight descent along a rocky slope.  I decided my new knee would not like that trail, so Bill crawled through the cave by himself.  I enjoyed the view, the breeze, and the birds.  On the way back to the boat we watched lots of small sea turtles swimming over the white sand bottom.  I love to see them darting around in the crystal clear water.

We needed to get out of Morgan’s Bluff before Monday, March 21 as a cold front was to pass over the area bringing high north winds, large waves, and possibly some rain.  Leaving Sunday morning and motor sailing all day, we passed Nassau’s New Providence Island, continued into the night, and arrived at Highbourne Cay at midnight under a full moon.  We anchored among the boats already there and fell into bed.  The expected wind and a brief bit of rain arrived as expected on Monday, so we spent the day aboard the boat resting.

We were now in the beautiful Exumas, the primary objective of the trip.  We travelled the short distance from Highbourne Cay to Galleon Point on the northwest corner of Norman’s Cay on Tuesday.  Our first step on land since Morgan’s Bluff was to walk around on some of the beaches there.  Once again, the weather persuaded us to move.  A trio of cold fronts having caused havoc in the southeast United States was coming to the Exumas.  For good protection from the wind, we motored around to anchor in Norman’s Cut.  This is a channel between Norman’s Cay and Wax Cay that goes between the Exuma Bank on its west end, and the Exuma Sound on its east end.  It is a pretty place.  There is a two-engine cocaine smuggling airplane that crashed here that is a good snorkeling spot.  During our stay, it attracted a near constant stream snorkelers from both Nassau tour boats and charter yachts.  This time Bill and I did not snorkel around the old airplane, there really is not much of it left.  When we first saw the C-46 in 2008, we could sit in the cockpit seats and hold the yokes.  Now little remains except the engines and corroding fuselage frames.  We walked on the beautiful beaches and the sand flats north of the cut just marveling at the colors.  Norman’s Cay is being rapidly developed and now has a superyacht marina and a 5,000 ft airstrip.  McDuff’s Restaurant and its rental cottages remain but are much more up-class than they were in the past.  For five days, we watched boats come and go from the well sheltered Norman’s Cut.  Charter sailing catamarans and crewed charter yachts were far more numerous than in the past.  The number of mall privately owned and crewed cruising boats seems to have declined.

We anchored for four nights at Shroud Cay, one of my favorite places.  There is not any development here as the cay is owned by the Bahamas Trust and is part of the Exuma Land and Sea Park.  There are several mangrove lined creeks that go through the island to the beautiful sound side white sand beaches and their brilliant blue water.  Our trusty old dinghy with its outboard motor has taken us on several wonderful tours of these creeks, winding through the mangroves looking at the turtles below us and at the tropic birds above.

It was quite windy during our last two nights at Shroud Cay, but we found a spot to anchor that was out of the wind.  When the wind calmed down, we motored south to Hawksbill Cay, grabbed a mooring ball, and now intend to stay here for three days or so before we continue our journey south.  This is also an uninhabited island owned by the Bahamas Trust with ruins of a previous attempt at settlement, trails, and beaches.  Fun.

This year we have a cell phone booster, hang its antenna in the rigging, and have intermittent but occasionally usable cellular service even though we are now miles from a tower.  I’ll try to write more often.

Happy Days to you all.

 

The walking paths on Cumberland Island look like the paths in storybooks. There are moss draped live oaks overhead, sawtooth palmettos at shoulder height, and ferns on the forest floor.

Yes, it is Bill pretending he is Buck Rogers or maybe Flash Gordon on his way to the planet Draconia and the final battle with the forces of evil. Really, it is just a yellow navigation buoy washed up on the beach.

Cumberland Island has lots and lots of armadillos. If you think possums are the dumbest of animals, you have never met an armadillo. Look at its head. There is no room in there for a brain. Armadillos eat the bugs that they find in the leaves, and don’t even run until you can almost touch them.

We were anchored in Rockhouse Creek near the New Smyrna Beach Municipal Airport. The Goodyear blimp used the airport for its base during the Daytona 500 coming and going as they took VIPs up for a ride and a view.

At Jensen Beach we passed by a fleet of small sailboats racing near the shore. Here are the last of the pack making their turn for the finish line.

Hello from Miami Beach.  We have reached one of our intended destinations.  This is where we decide whether to go to the Bahamas or stay in the Florida Keys.  It has been quite an ordeal just getting here.

When I last wrote we were headed to Thunderbolt, Georgia to get the leaking compressor outlet hose on the refrigeration system replaced.  We left our anchorage near Hilton Head Island and arrived in Thunderbolt without any problem.  It was still cold, we had on multiple layers of clothing, and we were looking forward to showers with unlimited hot water.  Arriving on Monday, both of us took our long showers and shed a couple of layers of clothing.  On Tuesday morning, the technician arrived as promised and worked quickly and efficiently to replace the leaking hose.  He finished that day, and we were ready to shove off the next morning.

The next two days were uneventful except it was rather cool, but we had on fewer layers than we were wearing in North and South Carolina.  On Friday as we motored along by Cumberland Island, the engine started making a rattling noise.  Bill looked and discovered the mount holding the refrigeration compressor to the engine had broken.  Darn and double darn (or worse).  With a couple of c-clamps we had onboard, Bill rigged up a temporary way to stabilize the compressor atop the engine, and we called Tiger Point Marine in Fernandina Beach, Florida.  They gave us an appointment for Monday.  We decided to anchor off the Sea Camp Ranger Station at Cumberland Island National Park for the weekend.  It was warm, and we enjoyed walking the beach and trails around the island.  I should tell you here that Irish Eyes has two refrigeration systems; one runs when the engine is running, and the other runs if we turn on the invertor.  We were never without a cold refrigerator, so the beer stayed cold, we had ice for our drinks, and we did not lose any food.

Valentine’s Day we tied up to the dock at Tiger Point Marina and waited for the welder to call.  He did, and Bill took the broken bracket to the office along with a photo, written instructions, and a drawing showing how the repair should be made.  Unfortunately, the paperwork did not get passed to the welder right away, so we stayed two nights at Tiger Point.  The marina is in Old Fernandina, and we spent some time walking the streets, looking at the houses, and exploring the old cemetery.  Bill reinstalled the bracket on the engine and fixed the compressor on the bracket.  In doing so he heard freon hissing from a leak in compressor inlet hose on the refrigeration.  There are only two hoses, and first one hose and now the other hose had sprung leaks.  I was just about ready to give up and turn back north.  The only thing that kept me from really lobbying for that was… It was cold in the Carolinas but warm in Florida.

Unable to schedule a prompt repair in Fernandina Beach, we untied the dock lines and were underway headed south on Wednesday, February 16.  It was warm.  I did not have on my two pairs of long underwear, and I did not have on my wool hat.  Shortly after we were underway Bill says, “Do you hear that scraping noise coming from the engine compartment?”  He checked and found that the noise was coming from the pump that pumps sea water to the engine to keep it cool (again).  We shut the engine off, and Bill put on the spare water pump.  Because he is now practiced, it only took him about 10 minutes.  It is always good to have aboard tools, spares, and an engineer who can do mechanical work.  We continued through northern Florida enjoying the scenery and the warmer temperatures.  Just after we crossed the river outside of Jacksonville, Bill looked down into the cabin and saw water pouring from the quarterberth onto the cabin sole.  Not good, not good at all.  An engine cooling water vent hose had slipped off its barb.  Once again, we drifted along without the engine while Bill put the hose back on fastening it in place with a new hose clamp.  I steered while he cleaned up the wet stuff in the cabin.  We anchored for the night north of St. Augustine.

The next few days were uneventful.  We had days of warm sunshine and one day of cold, windy, drizzly weather.  Since we were going to have the refrigeration hose replaced in Vero Beach, we decided to take a slip at the City Marina rather than a much less expensive mooring ball.  We arrived in our slip on Monday, February 21.  Bill had earlier contacted C&O Marine Refrigeration, and they were scheduled to be at our boat the next morning.  Our friends Rob and Minta Fannon, formerly of Kingsport and now are living on their boat, were spending the winter in Vero Beach.  We enjoyed happy hour on their boat, Caroline, with another couple from East Tennessee.  It was therapeutic to tell everyone our woes.  The Fannons were kind enough to accept our Amazon deliveries which because of our delays had arrived in Vero before we did.

Tuesday morning Carlos, the refrigeration guy, came and took away the bad hose to see about having a new one made.  I did laundry, and we put away some of our winter clothes.  It was finally shorts and tee shirt weather.  Carlos called and said he was having trouble finding someone to make a replacement hose.  With that delay we paid for two more days in the marina.  It was nice having the Fannons in Vero.  They had a car, and we thus had transportation for shopping (mostly for boast stuff).  We enjoyed their company at both a restaurant supper and lunch.

Thursday, Carlos called again and said that he had been unable to find a shop that could make our hose.  He asked if Bill could shop around by phone for a new hose.  It did not seem the repairs would be finished before the weekend, so we paid for the slip until Monday.  Bill called an automotive air conditioning shop that said they no longer make their own hoses because their nearby O’Reilly’s Auto Parts did a better job.  Bill checked with the recommended O’Reilly’s and passed the information along to Carlos.  It was about 3pm, and we figured no work on the hose was going to happen that day, so we took the bus to Publix for some groceries.  While we were shopping, Carlos called and said he had gotten the hose made and would meet us at the boat in an hour!  Great news.  Carlos and his worker Oscar showed up after 5pm, installed the new hose, and refilled the system with freon.  We were delighted.

Since our slip was paid through Sunday night, and since the coming sunny warm weekend would fill the ICW with fishermen, motorboats, and jet skis, we decided to stay put and play tourist in Vero Beach.  Saturday, we took the bus to the beach and strolled along the boardwalk then by the shops, and finally through two parks before arriving back at Irish Eyes.  We spent a pleasurable Sunday afternoon in the Vero Beach Art Museum.  Not a bad time at all.

We were underway by 9am on Monday, February 28 and continued our trip south.  We anchored that night in Hobe Sound just north of Jupiter.  Between Jupiter and Miami there are 33 drawbridges for us to pass through.  It was an exhausting two and a half days of motoring and keeping our speed right so we could make the scheduled openings.  However, the weather was pleasant, and the traffic was surprising light, so it was not too bad.

We had our anchor down here in Miami Beach by lunch time on Thursday March 3.  The last couple of days here have been windy, but that was fine because we were in a well-protected spot surrounded by land on three sides.  We have no need to move again for a while.  We have stuff to buy, places to go, and still more things to fix.  There’s always something broken on a boat!

Hope Spring comes soon for all of you.

 

Right before we left New Bern, a winter storm covered the marina in an inch of sleet and ice.  Notice the lack of footprints.  No one in the marina was getting off a boat.

Most of the Waccamaw River passes thru cypress swamp.  In the winter it is barren, gray, but strangely beautiful with the leafless trees draped in Spanish moss and water everywhere.

These two pictures show the sandy beach where we anchored in Thoroughfare Creek off the Waccamaw River.  The first picture is in the warm weather when we stopped.  The second is the next day with a bit of snow on both the beach and the boat.

There are near endless acres of salt marsh along the Intracoastal Waterway.  Here north of McClellanville they stretch farther than the horizon and glow in the early morning sunlight.

Irish Eyes was anchored a half mile away down the long straight creek just to the left of this photograph.  Bill brought the dinghy up here to an abandoned rail line now converted to a walking trail to begin his three hour walking trip to Home Depot and Food Lion.  To get under the pipeline he had to take the outboard motor off the dinghy.  Once past the pipes and hemmed in by rocks, he unexpectedly found his dinghy being drawn toward these these two whirlpools with no motor on the dinghy.  Homer said Odysseus had a similar problem.

Hello from Bull Creek near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.  We are anchored here for a few days waiting out some windy weather before we go to Thunderbolt Marine just outside Savannah for repairs.

Bill and I had talked for months about what we were going to do this winter and spring on Irish Eyes.  The rules for entering, staying in, and leaving the Bahamas seemed to change on a weekly basis.  Bill was fairly determined to again visit the lovely warm waters of the Exumas.  I was more hesitant but could consent to travel along and see what happens.  Our other option was to cruise the Florida Keys.  Either way taking the boat to Miami would be the first step

We decided to leave after the first of the year.  The family came for a short visit between Christmas and New Year’s Day.  One of the grandchildren was recovering from Covid, and her family only stayed one day with us.  The other family stayed and helped us sail our 22-foot sailboat, Canary, in the Watauga Lake Sail Club’s New Year’s Day Frostbite Race.  With twelve boats competing, we won, and the story was carried by the local papers and TV stations.  It was a fun time.

January 13^th was the target to leave our land-home.  It took a while to first put Christmas away.  It took even longer to pack the very warm clothes, the warm clothes, the less warm clothes, the cool weather clothes and finally the summer clothes that we would need on this trip.  Then, everything we would need for five months had to be packed into our Ford Expedition.  Lastly, the houseplants had to go to their home away from home.  The driving trip was uneventful, and we arrived in New Bern after dark.

Our next task was to move the things we would need on this trip from the car to the boat and to take the things we would not need for five months from the boat to the car.  Bill flushed the antifreeze out of the boat’s water tanks and changed the antifreeze in the engine.  He worked on “The List” of things that needed fixing and wrapped our portholes and overhead hatches in plastic to retard cold weather condensation and dripping.  I made several grocery-store trips to purchase food for the next few weeks filling the freezer, fridge, and lockers.  During our first weekend in New Bern a storm with gale force winds and accompanying rain passed through.  The following days brought us clear and warmish weather.  That short, pleasant spell ended with winter a storm with its wind, freezing rain, sleet, and snow.  Finally on Sunday, January 23, with a little of the ice and sleet still on the boat, we untied the dock lines and left.

It was cold but warm enough to melt the last of the ice off the boat as we traveled down the Neuse River to our usual first night anchorage, Adams Creek.  From there until we got through Myrtle Beach daytime temperatures were in the 40s and nighttime temperatures were comfortably above freezing.  We stayed warm in the cockpit in long underwear, sweaters, down jackets, and wooly caps.  Down below our bus heater kept the interior in the 70s, and that warmth remained through suppertime.  Blankets in the v-berth and a 12V bunk heater between the sheets and mattress kept us warm at night.  But… getting out of a warm bed into cold clothes each morning was a challenge to my courage.

In the Waccamaw River behind Pawley’s Island the weather changed, and we spent two days idle, anchored in the cypress and gum swamp waiting out the snow and wind.  Those days were our coldest days of this year on the boat.  We awoke the first day to snow in the air, an inch of white stuff on the boat’s decks, wind, and 33° outside.  The next morning was colder; 25° outside, 33° inside, but thankfully no more snow.  We spent most of the first cold day in bed under a pile of blankets. warm, reading, watching movies, and hibernating.  In hindsight, it was a pleasant change to be at anchor with nothing to do after weeks and weeks of holiday and boat busyness.  The second and coldest morning we started the engine, turned on our bus heater, put on five layers of clothes, and resumed our journey south.

We passed Georgetown, crossed both the North and South Santee Rivers, and we were nearing McClellanville when the wind picked up.  With shallow water ahead and low tide approaching, we turned around and anchored in the South Santee River in a well-protected spot.  The next morning at high tide we passed through the shallow bit, reached the Ben Sawyer Bridge at Sullivan’s Island exactly at a scheduled opening, passed through Charleston Harbor, arrived at the Wappoo Creek Bridge minutes before its next to the last afternoon opening, and anchored in the Stono River.  As we were anchoring in the Stono River, I heard an alarm I have never heard before.  I asked Bill what it was, and he calmly told me it was the engine compartment fire alarm!  A bolt that holds the alternator onto the engine had broken, and the alternator was just hanging by its still turning belt.  The belt was smoking, but nothing was burning.  Stopping the engine stopped the smoking.

That evening with some internet research, Bill found a Home Depot store in West Ashley with an exact metric replacement bolt two miles from our anchorage.  Bill wrote down the walking directions, we launched the dinghy, and off he went looking for a spot to land the dinghy.  I stayed with the boat.  My job was to worry about both Bill and the boat.  I did my job quite well.  Hours later, Bill returned with the replacement bolt and got the alternator back up and running.  While he was working on the alternator, Bill discovered a leak in the refrigeration system.  Darn [not the real words].  It is always something on this boat.

After spending that afternoon and half the next morning trying to find someone to work on the refrigeration in Charleston and failing, Bill called Thunderbolt Marine outside of Savannah.  Thunderbolt Marine was too busy with other jobs work on our problem, but they gave Bill a name and phone number of a sub-contractor who will meet us at 9am on Tuesday, February 8 in Thunderbolt Marina.  With that promise in hand, we fueled the boat in Beaufort and moved to Bull Creek behind Hilton Head Island to wait three nights at anchor until Monday when we will go to Thunderbolt Marina to meet the promised technician on Tuesday morning.

Hope everyone is warm and well.

In Myrtle Beach this sign told us that we were 713 miles north of Miami.  It would be four more days until we are in our slip at Northwest Creek Marina in New Bern.

In this little clip we were sailing downwind with only the mainsail up in the ocean.  The land ahead is Bald Head Island at the mouth of the Cape Fear River.  The autopilot was steering the boat.  In good conditions we can sail faster than we can motor.

In the Cape Fear River this ship overtook us.  You can't see it, but on her stern is the red flag of the Isle of Man with the three legged man in its center.  We moved out of the channel to let her pass.  A sailboat a mile or two ahead of us did not, and he got a whistle and a polite radio call when he stayed mid-channel.

Hello.  We are now home in Tennessee and living on dirt again.  We have been here a week, and what a busy week it has been.  I brought home two months’ worth of dirty clothes, sheets, and towels along with all the remaining food from the boat.  Bill brought his collection of boat things to repair or put away.  That little collection filled our Ford Expedition to the roof.  Our house did fine without us, the weeds and bushes both grew exceptionally well, but the insects and spiders stayed outside where they belonged.  There has been (and there still is) a lot to do.

Our trip north from Miami to New Bern was slow.  Back when we thought we would be leaving Miami for the Bahamas, we sent all our cool weather clothing to our daughter, Julia.  With little to wear except shorts and tee shirts, we could not go north faster than the spring, and this year spring was slow with cold front after cold front coming off the southeast coast.  We seemed to have windy cold weather every two or three days.  With each front the wind increased, and the temperature dropped.  We had two especially ‘interesting’ cold fronts.  One while anchored near Titusville brought several warnings of nearby tornados along with black skies, rain, and a wind speed hovering above 40 knots.  A second cold front with tornado warnings caught us at Pine Island north of St Augustine where a 3am blast of 48 knot wind coupled with a 180° change in direction dislodged our anchor and dragged us about 250 ft before the anchor reset thankfully stopping us before we hit anything.

With all the cold fronts, it was not good weather even in Florida for going out into the ocean and making faster progress.  Finally, passing through Georgia we got a break in the weather and motor sailed in the ocean from St. Catherine’s Sound to Hilton Head.  Along the way, we started hearing a metallic scraping noise coming from the engine compartment.  We anchored in Bryan Creek west of Hilton Head Island but found the creek to be too shallow, too narrow, and too infested with no-see-ums for our liking.  

Another cold front was coming our way, so we moved to the wider, deeper, and less buggy Bull Creek.  Bill found the shaft bearings on our engine coolant pump to be worn, so he called the local Yanmar dealer and ordered a replacement.  It was Wednesday and the promised delivery date was Monday.  That was okay.  We were not in a rush, and in five days spring would be five days farther north.  The forecast cold front arrived as expected.  In our well sheltered spot, the 30 knot wind did not bother us at all, and the bad weather soon passed.   However, over the weekend the governor of South Carolina relaxed his stay-at-home order, and our peaceful creek turned into a busy highway of small boats and jet skis intent on filling our calm spot with large waves.  We launched our dinghy, started our outboard motor, joined the mob, and took a two-hour-tour of the Bull Island salt marsh creeks.

On Monday, the crowds went back to work, and we were once again alone on the water.   A morning phone call told us that the replacement coolant pump had arrived.  We moved the boat to a spot near Hudson’s Seafood Restaurant on Hilton Head Island and anchored it there.  Bill put on his homemade face mask, picked up his rubber gloves and wipes, put on his pack, and took the dinghy to Hudson’s dock.  In a three hour walk around the island, he picked up the pump from the dealer, bought fresh vegetables from a roadside stand, got two bags of chips from a gas station, and bought two fried oyster salads for our supper from Hudson’s.  He even had a cold beer while he waited for his takeaway order.  The oysters were our first restaurant meal in seven weeks.  He installed the coolant pump that evening, but unfortunately it leaked, and he spent the next day doing a better job.

Our series of cold fronts continued.  We had a taste of one as we traveled through Beaufort, SC to the Ashepoo River where we got the real blow during that night.  Another one caught us anchored in Awendaw Creek north of Charleston.  Farther north after two calm nights anchored in the Waccamaw River, still one more cold front sped us on our way as we sailed in the ocean between Little River, SC and the Cape Fear River.  It then blew hard enough to keep me awake that night while we were anchored at Bird Island near the river mouth.

From the Cape Fear River, we motored in the Intracoastal Waterway to Wrightsville Beach, and the next morning we went out into the ocean for the trip to Beaufort, NC.  Anchoring that night near Fort Macon, we watched the dredging crew that had been working for months in the Morehead City Harbor pack up their equipment on barges to be pushed to Norfolk by three tugs.  The next day we traveled north with them for hours at almost exactly our motoring speed.  The first two tugs departed before us.  We overtook one when he slowed in a tricky area, and we overtook the lead tug when his barge momentarily ran aground in Adams Creek.  It was interesting to watch them maneuver in the twists and turns of the ICW and thread their barges through the narrow opening under the Core Creek Bridge.  They chatted on the radio between themselves and other passing commercial traffic.  It was something that we had not witnessed so closely before.

A calm night anchored in Cedar Creek and a short morning run up the Neuse River brought us back to Northwest Creek Marina and our slip.  It was Friday, May 15.  Tropical Storm Arthur was forecast to skirt the North Carolina coast over the weekend bringing wind and rain.  We began the three-day dance of moving things from the boat to the car and from the car to the boat in dry weather and ended our work in the rain.  By Monday morning all was done, and we left for Kingsport.  

We were away from home for 116 days.  During that time, I never got to walk on a beach, pick up shells, or eat a “cheese burger in paradise”.  This year’s trip was definitely much different from those of years past.  Our mechanical problems and the virus threw a monkey wrench into our plans.  Bahamas trip number 13, while not a disaster, was not the trip of my dreams.  But, there is always next year.

Hopefully, we will all have a good, safe, and healthy summer.

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.