Some challenges

[Hilde’s log]

It’s been a long time since I posted anything – apologies to those of you following our trail. The fact is, I just couldn’t get up any enthusiasm for writing. We were recently asked how life differed on a boat. I think it is that the highs are higher and the lows are lower. Peak experiences of nature and the divine are common and very vivid, but another equally prevalent reality is feeling really, really low. I have no idea why this is! Maybe because of the juxtaposition between beauty, space, and peace with man-made hurry and scurry and thoughtless consumption? Maybe feeling a bit useless – after all, we aren’t exactly contributing to world peace or anything. But then, we didn’t back on land either. I don’t know – all I know is that I have been in something of a trough but am back to the happy middle. Thank goodness!

So...where was I? Oh, yeah, at Lake Worth, zillion dollar everything and lots of it.

After a couple of days of rest while waiting for a front to blow by, suffice it to say we hustled up the east coast at a brisk trot. I'll let some photos take you on that trip:

"Little" Lake Worth, Florida

panorama of Little Lake Worth anchorage

Southern FL ICW near Lake Worth

Back at anchor in Marco Island in February, we worked out a sail plan to get us to Savannah in mid-April. Based on that plan, we booked a flight to Portland to see the World’s Cutest Grandson (and his parents), booked a B&B in Portland, and booked a month at Isle of Hope Marina, just outside Savannah. We built into the sail plan about three weeks of delays, due to weather and/or repairs. What we neglected to do was build in a few weeks of slack time so we could meander around, stay a few days just to look around and be tourists or just sit and rest. So… we have been traveling just about non-stop, sometimes pushing ourselves when we would really rather have sat still for awhile.

For example, we met friends Ann and Steve at Peck Lake, Florida. It was warm (out of the wind) and sunny, with a beautiful State Park on the Atlantic Beach. Another day or two at such a magical place would have suited me just fine.

panorama of Peck Lake State Park

Leaving Peck Lake, too soon. Just the right number of boats on the water, though.

 
Or Vero Beach, where we rafted up to Old Salt John and his first mate, Magdalena the Portugese water dog...

"Rafting up" which is when two or three boats share the same mooring ball. It's actually great, because you get to meet your neighbors and have instant buddies. Unfortunately, not too many places do this. Vero Beach is known as "velcro beach" to cruisers because it is just so nice here. AND it was WARM.

Another shot of Vero and its mangroves. It can get buggy.

Magdalena, checking us out.

 Instead, we kept going, through a lot of built up areas with a lot of traffic. Kind of like sailing on an interstate. Some of the traffic was a bit unusual...

...such as this floating "car" we saw at Jupiter, Florida...

...and this sea plane...

but mostly the traffic was boats, boats, and more boats.

 chugging along with Raven

As I have mentioned before, traveling by small boat is very physical. Even on the ICW, wind and water can conspire to lurch the boat this way and that, requiring that we hand steer. The east coast of Florida is a nightmare of boat traffic – imagine floating your way along a crowded interstate with all its attendant stress. We have an open cockpit, which means we are out in the weather, whatever that happens to be. I don’t know why they don’t have spring in this part of the world, but we’ve had very few balmy days up until about a week ago. Contending with cold, even mild cold, takes it out of me. We’ve had sloppy seas, high winds, cold and clammy weather, fog, and crowded and sometimes shallow waterways to contend with. Even with 30 minute watches, by the end of a seven hour day we’re both done in.

After two really rough days of cold, windy weather and moderate to high chop, scary, crowded passages under bridges that involved being muscled out of the channel by a huge sport fishing boat, and shallow canals and yet more boat traffic than anyone could ever put up with, we arrived at St. Augustine. My sole accomplishment that Saturday had been to run us aground, not once but twice. The first time, David kedged us off a sand bar (involving the dinghy, a spare anchor, lots of winching, and gunning the motor). The second time was in the St. Augustine mooring field, where we threw in the towel and called Boat US. Whatever.

We spent a cold and foggy Holy Saturday and Easter Day on a ball at St. Augustine. I was done in. I made a batch of brownies and sat on the settee eating them. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Stay tuned. It does get better!!