Escape from Marathon!

[Hilde’s log]

Our second week in Marathon, we made the acquaintance of some of the locals. They stink, literally, but are really cute:

 When not hobnobbing with our scaly buds, we did a bit more touristy stuff, such as going to the local aquarium  

to see baby alligators

several African tortoises (this one weighs 60 lbs)

 

and lots of fish! 

Marathon City Marina office, Boot Key Harbor

 

As nice as Marathon can be, it isn’t where we want to be. Trapped by weather for two weeks instead of the one planned, we were chomping at the bit to say goodbye. As we rounded the corner of Boot Key and turned North up Hawk Channel, it felt as though we had escaped the West Coast of Florida, with all its month-long delays, and were on our trip at last.

Hawk Channel is a shallow body of water running north-south along the Florida Keys, somewhat paralleling the nearby Gulf Stream. There is really no eastward “edge” to the channel, other than a reef and deep water. If the wind is strong and from the east the “fetch” (area across which wind blows and strengthens) is Africa. Strong east winds are a no-go, as are strong north winds. We waited for light winds with a southerly component to push us along and low seas, and got both last Saturday.

The trip north was a wonderland of striped blue water, dark blue where there is vegetation on the bottom, and neon turquoise where the bottom is white sand. In the morning, the light was at an angle that turned the sea opaque, and Raven slid along through blue and turquoise milk. By mid-afternoon, the light had shifted and to our amazement we could clearly see the bottom of the channel some 20 feet below us. David said the bottom looked like Neptune’s hairy chest. I thought it looked like flying over a desert landscape striated with forested hills. Either way, it was like gliding through liquid, bottle-green crystal and I thought of the hymns that sing about a “crystal sea” around the throne of God. Now I can imagine what that looks like!

Rodriguez Key  (no bugs!!)

The trip to Rodriguez Key took about 10 hours, and we were very, very ready to anchor when we got there. We dropped the hook among about 13 boats and I wandered dazedly off to bed about 9. The next morning when we got up at 6:30, all but four boats had left. As we enjoyed our morning tea, the last few pulled out. I must admit, herd instinct takes over when I am in a group of boats. I was panicked that we’d been “left” even though I had no idea where those other boats were going. We did not plan to leave until about 9 a.m., because we were making an overnight passage to Lake Worth and didn’t want to arrive in the early hours of the morning. But it was really hard to just sit there when all the other boats disappeared.

FYI, if this is an anchorage you are considering, the bottom is quite hard. The anchor never did bite – the weight of the chain held us. Fine for low or no wind (which is what we had), but I wouldn’t like to be there in any sort of blow.

All day long we were passed by a stream of boats – fishing boats of all shapes and sizes roaring off to do battle with rod and reel, and, spread over the day, five very large (100 ft) power vessels, each towing a “dinghy” almost the size of Raven. All brand new, and the last one, blue hull and white tower, had its tender painted to match. Maybe they were all bought at the Miami boat show a month ago?? Ridiculously huge and all on a march south. Conspicuous consumption is everywhere in Florida, and I begin to believe Miami is the epicenter of staggering amounts of disposable income.

We originally planned to come in just south of Miami in Biscayne Bay, but the weather stayed good, so we opted for an overnight to Lake Worth. I’m not a fan of overnights, but going along the ICW in Florida is slow going, due to the congestion and all the bridges. By skipping forward to Lake Worth, we avoided 26 bridges! From here, there are only six more to negotiate, and then we’ll be mostly clear all the way to Georgia.

In the early morning we motored through translucent turquoise water that looked just like turquoise frosted glass. The wind and seas were a bit higher all day Monday, building until we bounced past Miami in 18 knots and occasional 4 and 5 foot troughs. By the time we reached Miami, the water was steel-gray to match the rain clouds. We were blessed in our arrival though, as Miami is home of gargantuan cruise ships and other freighter-types. We saw three cruise ships go out, two cargo vessels come in, and a smattering of smaller craft, but we arrived exactly right and chugged across the suddenly empty channel with absolutely no traffic. We caught a few rainshowers and the humidity went through the roof, but the temperatures were pleasant, and the rough ride past Miami calmed down north of Ft. Lauderdale, with light winds and smoother water. 

Miami rain showers and late afternoon sun

Sunset at Miami (note the chop)

The Gulf Stream roars right past Miami, about a mile or two off shore, so we went from a depth of 20 feet to over 200 feet to “---” (what do you mean, you don’t know?!) on the depth meter really quickly. The Stream carried us North at 3 knots, plus our boat speed, which promised to get us to Lake Worth about 2 a.m. We slowed down the motor and pretty much let the Stream take us forward, resetting arrival at the entrance to the Lake Worth inlet at about 6 (daylight at 7).

Even though the wind was southerly, we thunked along all night, with lots of pitch and roll, generally as I was trying to pour tea. The temperature was gorgeous and the Miami skyline lit up the coast for 50 miles, so we had lots of light even with only a crescent moon that set early. We each caught naps of about 2 hours, which is enough to maintain sanity, but not much more. After cutting a few doughnuts outside the channel entrance to Lake Worth and avoiding an incoming freighter in the early pre-dawn, the sun finally lit up the eastern sky and Raven came inside to the ICW about 7 a.m.

We’re anchored now at Lake Worth, the wind is honking at 20 in advance of a big cold front due to arrive tonight, and we’re glad to stop. Baths, long naps, snacks, and no ambition are the order of the day. 

Looking across the Lake Worth anchorage at the zillion dollar boats - after all, we are in West Palm Beach!

Sweltering in Marathon

Photos #1 and 2: down Government Cut, past the cargo ships, to Miami

Photo #3: Now that's a fender...

[Hilde’s log]

Ah, mangroves, heat, and no-see-ums. We must be in Florida! Raven is back in the Florida Keys, after two years. It took persistence to get here. After an overnight from West End to Miami, we pulled in to Mia Marina, close to the Port of Miami where we had to check in with the powers that be to re-enter the US legally. Fortunately, they gave us 24 hours to show ourselves. The minute Raven slid into her slip and the a/c was hooked up, her crew started sleeping. We were simply exhausted. It wasn’t just the lack of sleep from the overnight; it was riding the constant motion of three to four foot cross-hatched swells and wind-driven waves as we bumped past Bimini and then across the Gulf Stream. David likened it to riding a mechanical bull for 15 hours. The ocean pitched us, tossed us, and threw us up in the air without respite, from Bimini well into Government Cut.

The overnight was interesting, aside from the rough ride. We enjoyed a beautiful full moon, which helped me to miss a huge tanker that crossed our bow. I was half asleep and staring stupidly at the tanker’s port light expecting it to pass to starboard (I really was asleep with my eyes open) when suddenly the moon illuminated its length as it rose up in solid silhouette in front of us. It was a “David!!” moment. We were never in danger; it was just a close encounter that jolted me awake with a start. A couple of hours later, just east of the Gulf Stream, a spotlight suddenly illuminated the cockpit and we were hailed by the Coast Guard. After reading them passport numbers and certificate numbers and giving names and other personal information they wished us a good night and left us to lurch our way to Miami without further ado. I’m so glad they decided not to board us to check for life vests or something; in that sea they’d have knocked holes in the gel coat, fenders or no.

The morning after our arrival in Miami, we took a taxi to the Port of Miami building, dressed in our best and sporting the ship’s papers. Finding the office was the hardest part. A bored official took our papers, looked at our passports, handed them back, and turned to another task. They didn’t stamp our passports, and although we both had to report to the office, no one even looked at me. I guess if you show up, they figure you’re okay. Quien sabe?

We enjoyed the part of Miami that was near the marina. After a Starbucks, we wandered an open air market admiring all sorts of goods on display before settling down to lunch at a dockside café. Late in the afternoon we set out for an anchorage close to Hurricane Harbor in Biscayne Bay, where we parked for two nights while we rested. It was ridiculous: we’d get up, eat something, do very little for about two hours, and then go back to sleep. We must have had ten naps between us over the weekend we were there. David did manage several boat chores during the hours he was awake; I didn’t manage a thing. The air was hot and hazy and several times we were really bothered by thick smoke that poured over the bay from the wild fires in the Everglades.

Photo #4: Miami skyline from Biscayne Bay. It was gorgeous at night, with all the lights.

Other than sleeping and watching David whack at the boat, I spent my time looking out at over a hundred (mostly power) boats that anchored near us. Both Saturday and Sunday morning, they appeared like magic about breakfast time and then they disappeared again as the sun began to dip over the horizon in the evening. Teens, families with kids, and boats full of adults came to anchor out and play on and around the shallow waters covering a nearby sandbar. The kids spent all their time leaping from the swim platforms into the water, the teens zoomed by in small power boats or on jet skis, and the old folks lay back in the shade with a cold drink and watched their progeny or else sat their with fishing poles out, looking hopeful. We had the place to ourselves from dusk until dawn, and it was beautifully empty when we pulled out Monday morning early to head down to Rodriguez Key.

Photos #5-7: Stiltsville, beside Biscayne Channel

The most interesting thing we saw on that leg of the trip was a place the chart called “Stiltsville.” As its name implies, Stiltsville is made up of maybe ten houses built on stilts, scattered along a stretch of the southern channel that leads from Biscayne Bay to Hawk Channel on the Atlantic (Biscayne Channel). The houses looked abandoned for the most part, with windows boarded up. Some of the foundation piers looked well cared for, but others looked as though a good blow would send the house straight into the bay.

Stiltsville was about it for entertainment on our trip south other than the colors of the water in Hawk Channel. I saw the same beautiful dark blue and turquoise striped water that I’ve been used to seeing in the Bahamas, as well as an equally beautiful jade and evergreen Florida variation. Those strips of clear, jewel-colored water were surrounded by regular green ocean in many places. I have no idea what causes the colors of the sea to change, and especially cannot guess why the neon colors are blue and turquoise in one place and then jade and evergreen just a short distance away. The trip to Rodriguez Key was 40+ miles pretty much straight into the 15-20 knot wind. We motor sailed with the staysail at 30 degrees to the wind when we could, but still arrived minutes before sunset after a 13 hour trip. Silver moonlight bathed the open vista to the east as we sat in the cockpit with a well earned drink, and I decided that was my idea of a night passage: at anchor in a still lagoon under a bright moon with a drink in my hand.

The next day we soldiered on to Channel Five, tacking back and forth over a 25 mile route. It was a terrific ten hour sail, Raven heeled with all her canvas out. All that tacking added a lot of distance to the trip and we arrived at the anchorage at sunset yet again. The last day of our march to Marathon was a slog, motoring straight into 16 knot wind most of the way, with a couple of hours of motor sailing thrown in. We paused at the Marathon Marina fuel dock to tank up with diesel and water, and then we nabbed a mooring ball in the sparsely populated mooring field and celebrated our arrival with rum and coke. It was pretty warm the whole trip, mid 80s making the breeze welcome, and the heat baked us but good once we tied up here. Both of us are glad to see the sun go down. It’s hard to remember how much I hated the cold up north!

We rented a car for three days, so in addition to luxurious meals in the local (air conditioned) diners, trips to the (air conditioned) Publix supermarket to re-provision (read: find David a bag of potato chips), and the usual laundry and showers, we have also visited the (partially air conditioned) Turtle Hospital and the (partially air conditioned) Crane Point Museum and Nature Center. You can find out about the Turtle Hospital at http://www.turtlehospital.org/ and about the museum and nature preserve at Crane Point at http://www.cranepoint.net/ . Both are well worth a visit and these sites have lots of photos.

Photo #8: One of the turtle patients, in a separate tank

Photo #9: Two bubble butts in the big pool. You can see a weight on one's back.

Photo #10: In hopes of a snack from the tourists...

The turtle hospital was my favorite. I got to see about 40 huge sea turtles up close and personal. Some are permanent residents, because of the nature of their injuries, but most are thankfully just passing through. The staff treats everything from tumors to fishing line entanglements (please, please, if you are fisher-folk, be sure to retrieve all your line – floating filament causes terrible suffering for the wildlife that runs afoul of it) to shark attacks to a really weird condition that results in the turtle having excess air forced into the space between its body and its shell. The large bubble of air keeps the turtle from diving. It’s as if they are wearing a floatie. The staff call these unfortunates “bubble butts” which is a funny name for an un-funny condition, usually caused by a collision with a boat. The trapped air means these turtles have to be lifelong residents of the hospital, because they can’t dive for food. The staff can’t drill holes in the shell to let the air out because a turtle’s spine and skeleton are pretty much welded to its shell. For now, the staff attach weights on the turtles’ shells, so they can dive a little and have a more normal life. The bubble butts all live in a large salt water pool with fish and other maimed turtles, but it’s not much like having the run of the sea. You can’t imagine how huge some of these turtles are. The loggerheads have heads the size of softballs and larger. These are the turtles we saw in the Bahamas.

We should be here through next Wednesday. Then, always depending on the winds and weather, we’ll be off up the west coast of Florida, headed toward Ft. Meyers, Tampa/St. Petersburg, and Pensacola.