Engineering Log - Stuart, FL

[Cap'n Dave's log]

Hi! Everyone,

I'm a little overdue with this post. All of these mechanical “challenges” occurred before we left Stuart, FL: diesel fuel in the oil pan, dead depth meter, and oil pressure gauge reading 80 psi whenever the ignition is on, engine running or not.

The night before we were due to leave Vero (a.k.a. Velcro) Beach I decided to get ahead of myself and check the engine oil level. The dipstick came up all wet, with no visible demarcation between wet and dry. I wiped it off and tried again. Same! In order to find the level I had to leave about five inches of the dip stick out of the tube. Hey ho! What’s going on? The oil appeared very thin and smelled of diesel fuel. There were no signs of water in the oil. How had diesel fuel gotten into the oil pan, how much was in there, and did I have enough empty containers to get it all out? I sacrificed one of our new six-gallon water jugs and proceeded to fill it with about nine quarts of sump “liquid”. Hmmm! There wasn’t anything to do but put four quarts of fresh engine oil into the engine, run it up to temperature, and check the level in the morning. I’m sure our neighbors weren’t thrilled to hear our motor at 11pm. Oh, well! Next morning the oil level was fine. It has remained OK even after three days of motoring from Vero Beach to Stuart. I still don’t know what went on, but I have three possible scenarios, none of which satisfactorily explain the symptoms. In Vero, I replaced a leaking neoprene gasket between the top of the oil injection pump and the flange for the pipe that returns fuel to the secondary oil filter. About one week passed between my removing the old gasket and my installing the new one. During that time the fuel system was open to the air. Did diesel fuel somehow drain or siphon itself into the sump? (Five quarts of it?) After this repair, I ran the engine to temperature then shut it off. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to reconnect the return spring to the stop lever on the injector pump and it was slightly off the stop for about two weeks. Again, did diesel fuel somehow drain or siphon itself into the sump? (Five quarts of it?) I still don’t know what happened. Ironically, during the thirty minutes I ran Big Blue with very thin engine oil the engine oil galleries were thoroughly flushed clean. It runs sweeter than ever, with none of the clatter that has annoyed me for four thousand miles.

The depth meter has been reading erratically for a long time and since leaving Vero Beach it showed mostly “all segments lit”, the digital equivalent of “full scale deflection”, I suppose. Coming into Stuart, the digits disappeared, leaving only MSD showing down the left side of the display. I think is means “Maximum Sounder Depth”, but that’s only my guess. There seem to be no existing documents for this old Datamarine S200DL unit, not even courtesy of Google. I ordered a Moor Systems depth meter from Hamilton Marine, which I was told should work with the old Datamarine transducers. This was important since the (unused) transducer in the thru hull is epoxied in place, the (unused) transducer lying in the same locker had no receptacle in the hull to slide into, and the suspect transducer in the bubble (containing mineral oil) was glued in place. I paid for UPS to air freight the unit overnight (ouch!), so that I could work on it over the weekend. Normally, the depth meter is a “luxury” instrument, but in the Bahamas and in the ICW it earns its keep and becomes essential information. Our departure to the Bahamas was off until I could get the depth meter working again. Needless to say, none of the old transducers worked with the new display head. I freaked out with visions of hauling Raven to enable me to install the new transducer, which was too short for Raven’s thick hull, etc. And we’d have to find somewhere to live. And we’d have to rent a car. Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching! I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly. I took a break and visited our new friends on Anastasia, also ex-Seabrook cruisers. (Lindsay and Judy White) Lindsay suggested (no, insisted) that I connect the new transducer to the old display head and hang the former over the side. Hey! It worked. The old display head was OK. Lindsay also suggested firing the new transducer through the hull. No go, but nor had we immersed it in any liquid. So, I set about removing the old transducers, figuring I’d be able to epoxy the new head directly to the inside of the hull, thereby removing any attenuating air bubbles. As I was coiling the coax wire on the old transducer, about half way along it was as stiff as a pencil, for about 15”. Clearly, it was corroded on the inside. Perhaps the casing had been damaged and water had entered the core. I cut off the suspect wire, soldered on a new RCA connector, plugged it into the display, hung the transducer over the side, and fired it up. Bingo! It worked. All it needed was good wire and good soldered connections. Duh!

The oil pressure gauge has read full scale since somewhere off the Carolinas. I didn’t notice any precipitating event. I just assumed a wire had come off or the sending unit had broken. In Vero Beach I hunted down a sending unit and installed it. No change! In Stuart I ran a test wire directly from the sender to the gauge. No change! I put an Ohm meter directly on the sender: 220kΩ with the engine stopped, 2kΩ with the engine running. Could the gauge itself be bad? It’s unlikely that the needle would move at all if the gauge was broken. I wondered if it was a weird grounding issue in the rat’s nest that is the instrument panel wiring. I tore it all out and rebuilt it (using ABYC color codes and appropriate AWG sizes) but it didn’t fix the oil pressure gauge. So, I still don’t have this one resolved. It’s not a show stopper. The oil low pressure buzzer works OK and that’s much more important than an oil pressure reading.

Best regards,
David

Stuart, Florida

photo #1: Stuart mooring field
photo #2: bridge over the St. Lucie River
photo #3: looking toward the marina office from Raven's stern

[Hilde’s log]

Another beautiful day in Florida. After a dawn of soft grey air and overcast skies the day has opened up to bright blue skies and brilliant sunshine. David has gone ashore to return a widget to West Marine and I am listening to the hum of the generator and trying to talk myself out of cleaning the locker under the sink. It reeks of mildew, but I am sort of hoping it will clean itself while I am writing.

We’ve had a couple of days of upheaval, caused by the untimely demise of the depth meter. The death of any instrument seems to require that all lockers be emptied, all stores unearthed, all closed spaces opened. That’s because you have to dismantle the boat to get to any of its systems, and because all spaces are crammed with what you need to live - everything from extra clothes and food to tools and lubricants. Day before yesterday was the Bad Day, which found me huddled in the stern of the boat surrounded by mounds of stuff from the cockpit lazarettes and David alternately below or crammed like Gumby down in those same lazarettes trying to figure out which part of the depth meter had croaked. When not hiding on the stern, I cleaned mildew off seldom seen bulkheads and longed for the desert.

As implied by its name, a depth meter tells you how deep the water is. That’s really important when you are in shallows and don’t want to get stuck. The waters of the ICW and the rivers, etc. of Florida are shallow and of course the Bahamas waters are also shallow, so we have to have a working depth meter. I now know that a depth meter has three parts, a “head” (the part that you read), a transducer (the part that sticks to the bottom of the boat and takes the measurements), and a wire between the head and the transducer that goes from the cockpit down into the bowels of the boat to be connected to the transducer. I will spare you the details, but after hours of testing and sliding in and out of the lazarette and removing wires and going to West Marine, and more testing, David figured out that the problem was not in the head ($$$) or in the transducer ($$) but in the wire itself, part of which had corroded (no $). So we now have a working depth meter and all it cost was our sanity for about 36 hours. The boat is put back together and life is once again good.

We celebrated by having friends Lindsay and Judy from Anastasia over for dinner. They are from Ft. Worth and know Clyde, Raven’s previous owner (they are the couple that knocked on our hull when we first came in to Stuart). We spent hours over dinner, comparing notes and talking about boats and ports and delivery jobs, and all sorts of things that interest only fellow boaters. They have been very kind to us, taking us to West Marine and the grocery store, and we have thoroughly enjoyed their company.

David and I also managed a walk around Stuart. There is a boardwalk that runs along the St. Lucie River, and when that peters out you find yourself in downtown Stuart (or at least the scenic downtown), on a main street full of galleries, junk shops, clothing stores, etc. Once we found the ice cream store, all was well. I had cappuccino chocolate chunk, which was frozen bliss. We enjoyed window shopping and peering into the river to catch sight of minnows and larger fish in pursuit of the minnows. Now that the repairs are made, we will be leaving tomorrow for Lake Worth, and then from there to Lighthouse Point (I think) where we have been invited to take a mooring by friends we met in 2006 in Maine. After we say goodbye to them, we will head for Port Everglades and (God willin’ and the creek don’t rise) we’ll cross at the next weather window. Finally!!!

I will keep that goal in mind, now, as I empty the shelves under the sink and see what is really there. Not the fun part of boat life, trust me.

Vero Beach to Stuart, Florida

[Hilde’s log]

Stuart, Florida, at last! We had several “last days” in Vero Beach before we actually managed to get away. I really thought we’d leave Tuesday - we even turned in our bathroom key. The food and supplies were bought and stowed, the rental car was returned, the laundry was done, the cockpit and the cabin roof were clear, we’d had our farewell showers, the income tax return was finished and ready to be mailed, the norther blew in and out, the sun was shining, and yet we sat another day. Why? The engine, of course!

After dinner the night before we were to leave, David decided to check the engine oil, to make sure all we had to do in the morning was crank the key in the engine. To his astonishment, the oil pan was full of diesel! He pumped it out, ending up with about 8 quarts of black, thin diesel mixed with oil that we poured into a sacrificial jerry can. He deduced that the diesel seeped through when he was fixing the injector and inadvertently left off a spring (later replaced, but evidently not soon enough to stop the seepage). Those high oil levels were a fairly traumatic find. He pumped out the diesel and oil and filled the pan with new oil, telling me if the level held when he checked the next morning, then we were fine; if not, we were stranded until he found out what on earth the problem could be. Funnily enough, when we ran the engine after draining the diesel and refilling the oil, it ran more smoothly than it ever has, a bass hum replacing the usual clatter. Seems we did a flush and made Mr. P very happy. We turned in late (1 a.m.) and although I slept like a dead thing, David woke up at three hearing a light rain and by the time he’d taken care of open portholes and stuff in the cockpit, he was wide awake.

The next morning the oil level was fine and that was good, but David had to take the bus in to Wal-Mart to get new jerry cans for water, this after only two hours of sleep. So when he returned, frazzled from the bus and chilled from the cool air we decided to wait another day so we could leave in peace and quiet after a full night’s sleep. David went back to bed for a long afternoon nap and I spent the time baking a pineapple upside down cake. The oven warmed the chilly cabin nicely, and when David woke up we took the rest of the day off, drinking coffee, eating cake, and watching a movie.

The next morning I took the bus to the post office to mail our tax return (how is it that you can make no money and still owe tax??) while David stowed stuff on the boat, checked the engine oil level, and otherwise got us ready to leave. We took another set of farewell showers when I got back from the post office and pulled away from the mooring about 11 a.m. David decided he wanted to check the oil level again, so we paused at the anchorage at Ft. Pierce, just past the bridge, about 15 miles from Vero Beach. The depth meter was also on the fritz, proclaiming a uniform depth of 18.8 feet every inch of the way, so while the engine cooled, David tore into the depth meter, the wiring, and the sensors to diagnose the problem. He finally decided that the unit itself had to be at fault. The good news was that the engine was behaving itself. The bad news was we would have to order a new depth meter for David to install. We spent the night at the Ft. Pierce anchorage, lopping about as the large boats sloshed by, eating soup, and getting a good night’s sleep. We figured we’d head to Stuart today in order to get and install a new depth meter. We both spend a lot of time shaking our heads over how much time David spends fixing things on the boat. Imagine that every time you drive to work, the muffler falls off your car, or a tire goes flat, or the odometer gets stuck, or the radio conks out. I joke weakly that it will be fun to be in the islands for my birthday (in March).

Stuart is about 35 miles from Ft. Pierce, a good day’s travel. It’s not on the ICW, but up the St. Lucie River about seven miles. It’s been a chilly day, as we’ve motored into stiff wind the entire way. NOAA confidently predicted 5 to 10 knots; we haven’t seen less than 15 all day. The rain finally caught up with us at the mouth of the St. Lucie and we wound our way westward with rain splattering the bimini, pooling in the cockpit, and fogging the isinglass of the dodger. Fishing boats of all sizes crowded the inlet, headed up and down the river, most of them churning heavy wake and making a convoluted entrance more difficult. Some day I suppose I will get used to the thoughtless way some people motor their boats, but it hasn’t happened yet. I bet they live their lives the way they motor their boats, just bullying their way along and the hell with everyone else. I am glad I don’t have to live with them; I wish they’d find another hobby so I didn’t have to boat with them.

The St. Lucie is a pretty river, lined with the requisite Florida mc-mansions crowded together on zero lot lines. The city marina at Stuart is large and boasts 80 odd mooring balls at a very reasonable $10 a night. Stuart is a very popular stop for the cruising community, with easy access to stores, groceries, and community activities. We’ve heard ugly rumors that a developer has taken a 50 year lease on the waterfront and plans to install dockage, reduce the mooring field, and hike the prices. It’s a shame, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s all part of the gentrification of the waterways. I wish I knew of a compromise;– after all, there’s nothing inherently superior about older facilities. It’s just that the improvements are so often Disneyesque and they are always priced in a way that excludes those of us who must cruise on a budget, not to mention the locals who own boats but not gold mines. They also exclude people who have made their living on the water historically and who can’t manage the taxes or the rentals on the suddenly high priced waterfront. Sigh. Let’s see if I can find a way down from this soapbox…

I managed to steer the boat close enough to the mooring that David could catch it without bodily injury, for which I (and he) was very grateful. We got settled in just before a hard rain began to fall, and retreated below for cookies and a rest. The new depth meter should be here tomorrow (ordered from Hamilton Marine, a wonderful mail order supplier of marine merchandise should you need any) and we’ll spend the weekend getting that installed, buying some fresh produce, strolling around Stuart, and enjoying my favorite land side activity, hot showers.

A couple in a dinghy just hailed us. We went topside and were greeted with “But you’re not Clyde!” Clyde is Raven’s previous owner, and this couple recognized the boat. We will get together later to get acquainted and trade stories. I'm always astonished by the number of ways you meet folks on the water!

Still in Vero Beach, but not for long!

[Hilde’s log]

We’re back on line! After a number of phone calls to progressively higher up employees of Verizon, we’ve managed to get our old plan reinstated and get the awful overcharges on the bill removed. This means that as long as the cell phone works (i.e., as long as we’re connected to the US shore) we can post from Raven, instead of slogging to the library.

I’ve just come off about ten days as Raven’s Captain. David went to Texas to take Schnitzel to my sister’s house in Tyler (and incidentally to pay a visit to our dentist) and I was left in charge. It was hard to see Schnitzel go – she’s such a great little dog, and we have literally not been separated since she arrived at my house as a tiny black puppy almost 12 years ago. But we just didn’t feel right about taking her – too many unknowns, too many different governmental restrictions from too many places, too much heat, and the ever present threat of her being under “boat quarantine” in foreign ports and unable to go ashore to take care of business. Despite or because of the fact that she’s a pretty smart cookie, for a dog anyway, she has refused to believe that it is okay to relieve herself on the boat. This refusal has resulted in our needing to take her to shore twice a day, which is not a problem when we are travelling on the coast. But offshore, it means she thinks she has to hold it, which she does for sometimes as long as two days before finally giving in. The waiting is painful for her and for us, both literally and figuratively. So she has gone to Aunt Carol’s to live with Oreo, Buster, and Napoleon (a Shitzu, a Wire Haired Terrier, and a Yorkie, respectively) for a few months. We hope she will be so busy establishing herself as Queen of the pack that she won’t be too traumatized by being booted off the boat. Carol says so far all is well – Schnitzel is enjoying cow hoofs to munch on, a big yard to run around in, and unlimited pee time.

Anyway, during the Texas trip I stayed in Florida to mind the boat. I have finally learned to start the outboard motor on the dinghy. It isn’t pretty, but I can do it. So while David was driving like a fiend, I was puttering back and forth to the dinghy dock, trying to run errands on the bus. Errands on the bus take hours, literally. One trip to Target to buy a new rug for the cabin took 5 hours – 2 at Target (I ended up with more than a rug) and 3 getting from the boat to the bus to Target to the bus to the boat. The rest of the time, I read, cleaned the boat, started the generator at least once a day to top up the batteries, rigged a tarp to keep rain from dripping down the forward hatch, and ate as much junk food as possible. I was so happy to see David return yesterday!

I have a few more errands to run tomorrow and am trying to schedule a medical check up in Stuart for early next week. After that – we’re off!!

You won’t be able to reach us by phone once we’ve left, but we will be checking email and posting to the blog whenever we manage to find a cyber café. We’ve been told they are all over the place, so here’s hoping.

Engineering Log - Vero Beach, FL

[Cap'n Dave's log]

Hi! Everyone:

True to its nick name (Velcro Beach), we have been unable to peel ourselves away since arriving here January 4th. Still, why cruise unless one can live without a schedule? We are currently waiting for deliveries of spare parts: new bug screens for the port lights, a seacock maintenance kit, and a special wrench for adjusting the rudder post stuffing box. With luck, they’ll be here soon and we’ll have no more excuses for lingering.

The mooring field here is extremely well protected, so I have had a stable platform for completing some repairs. The engine was weeping diesel fuel from a pipe flange on top of the high pressure injector fuel pump. The gasket had shriveled up with age or, perhaps, a tankful of diesel fuel containing ethanol, which is not friendly to very old gaskets, fuel lines, and tanks. NAPA had some neoprene of the right thickness, so I made a new gasket using the old one as a pattern. Eventually, I chickened out of using my homemade gasket and bought a manufactured one for $1.50, tax included. My homemade gasket will stand by as a spare. So, the diesel leak was taken care of.

During our first week here, I re-plumbed the head. I knew it was going to be a slog and had planned to replace one length of sewer line at a time, so that I could stop at any time and the head would still be operational. Well … the first line, from seacock to vented loop, wouldn’t let go without my raising the vented loop, which required removing another line, from vented loop to the Y-valve. Like dominoes, one fell, then the rest. Before too long I had removed the entire head: outflow pipes, inflow pipes, commode, and all. This job was every bit as ugly as I had expected. Given the potency of the smells, I was very glad that Raven was standing still. It was not the time to succumb to sea sickness.

After thoroughly cleaning the head, the installation of modern, white, plastic hoses was a pleasant task. I moved the Y-valve from the cupboard under the sink to the wall behind the commode. It is much more accessible now and, being closer to the head, will benefit more from the vinegar we use to minimize salt build-up. Also, the run from commode to seacock is about four feet shorter.

When the head was finished, I took several days off. I felt like I had earned a break. With labor costs at $60+ per hour, I knew I had saved us a few hundred bucks.

Another long-postponed job was a major overhaul of the galley range. One of the three top burners would not stay lit when the valve was released after the obligatory warm up period. The manufacturer told me that replacement burner (thermocouple) parts were no longer available. Instead, I’d have to purchase retrofit kits for the two small and one large burners. The prices were reasonable, particularly when compared to $1500 for a new stove. The installation was straightforward but after a couple of days one of the burner control valves began to leak and I had to order a new one. That’s the way it goes.

Dirty gasoline continues to haunt the Honda generator and outboard. Both would stall unless I applied half choke. Not wanting to be stranded in the dinghy, I once again rebuilt the carburetor on the outboard, this time removing and cleaning the jet. The fuel tank appeared clean but the inline filter was dirty. This motor now runs well,

Cleaning the fuel system of the Honda generator was educational. Indeed, the fuel tank was dirty, as was the inline filter. Getting to these parts required splitting the clamshell case. At one point I wondered if I’d be able to get it all back together. I did, and there are only two parts left over. Clearly, they are not critical as the generator now runs just fine.

I have been testing a fiberglass polish made by Starbrite. It appears to work well. Two applications are recommended, followed by a pure polish. I found it best to apply liberal amounts of polish with a rag, spreading it with light pressure. I let the polish do the work, allowing enough time for the solvents to soften the surface film. There appears to be no abrasive paste in this product, which makes me happy. After I removed the dried haze with a second rag, the chalkiness was gone and I could see the beginnings of a nice shine. I am encouraged to continue the process.

Other cruisers tell similar stories of non-stop repairs and maintenance. Someone remarked, “While you’re sleeping, your boat is falling apart.” Work on board is never finished. I have four lists of jobs: (A) broke, (B) almost broke, (C) routine maintenance, and (D) a wish list. My spirit dictates what gets done first, so the lists help match my mood to the work. This is the best way I know to minimize my resentments around what appears to be a non-stop battle with entropy. Even so, I much prefer working on this boat than doing similar work on a house or car. A common definition of cruising is “working on your boat in exotic locations”. The hardest job is to keep moving towards those exotic locations.

Best regards,
Captain Dave

Some shots from Vero Beach - (1) Good friends Penny & Richard from Viking Rose share a drink with me at the nearby bar; we can take the dinghy and tie up at their dock and then enjoy a great happy hour. (2) a cold view of a cold beach on a cold day (3) rainbow in the mooring field, taken from Raven, (4) the facilities here at the city marina.

[Hilde's log, January 31, 2008] Yes, we are still here, despite all efforts to the contrary. In between errands, repairs, transporation logistics, and difficult decisions about where we're leaving from, how long we're staying, and where we will ultimately go, we are having a frustrating time here in paradise. We are making progress -- the boat repairs are made, we have a tentative plan of travel, and we think we know what needs to be done in the next couple of weeks as long as we can work around the transportation logistics if we can just wade through a couple of difficult decisions. We want like everything to be out of here this weekend - cross your fingers!

Vero Beach, Florida

[Hilde’s log, January 13, 2008, posted 1-15-08 from the public library at Vero Beach, FL]

I have to date this log, because goodness knows when I will get to post it. I was lying in bed, minding my own business (sleeping) about 1 a.m. last Sunday when I heard muffled shrieks and curses from the main cabin. David often gets up really early and putters on the computer, so I thought nothing of his being up, but the distress seemed all out of proportion to the circumstance. “What is it?” I mumbled, trying to readjust and go back to sleep. “Our Verizon bill!” he spat, “It’s $760!!” “WHAT?!” That got me up. It turns out that Verizon has yanked a service we have used for years, connecting to the net through a modem in David’s phone. The calls were billed as regular minutes, meaning we could surf the net, check email, etc. whenever our plan gave us free minutes (after 9 and on weekends) and being on line cost nothing. Provided we could get a cell phone connection, we could access the net. Verizon decided to close that loophole some time ago, and for a number of years you haven’t been able to get a phone with a modem. No problem for us – David just kept his original phone. But heaven forbid those few of us with antiquated phones should have access without paying through the nose – Verizon has discontinued net access through a modem, closing that loophole with a bang and leaving lots of folks with humongous phone bills. Fortunately, we were able to get the excess charges taken off the bill, but we are without access to the net unless we stumble across free wi-fi…which we will have done if this gets posted.

We’ve been in Vero Beach for about a week, arriving on the tail end of a cold front and just in time for 82 and sunny. It’s just as nice as we’ve heard, with reasonable rates for mooring balls, a friendly and clean marina, free city bus service, good car rental rates – everything you need when you’re a cruiser. It’s a beautiful anchorage, basically a very large creek lined with mangrove bushes, with the ICW at one end and several small mangrove islands at the other. There’s lots of wildlife to admire, mostly a large assortment of birds. We’ve seen dolphins fishing along the banks, and one acquaintance says she saw sea otters at the island end of the creek. Pelicans regularly fish around us and we had a close up view of a pelican’s lunch about 50 feet from the boat. In case you are wondering, they swallow the fish whole, alive, and wriggling, and their necks ripple for sometime after the unfortunate dinner is swallowed. In fact, the dinner fought its way right back up and partly into the pelican’s beak before being swallowed again with a big gulp of water. Eeew. Right next to us, on shore, is a “free play” dog park that is popular with locals and cruisers alike, where dogs can romp off leash and plunge into the water after balls, sticks, and each other. There is a lot to see from the cockpit while sunning if you can tear yourself away from your book (Eleanor of Aquitaine, Hotel Pastis, and The Widows’ Adventures so far). Venturing on shore, there are pretty, unpretentious houses and luxuriant tropical landscaping in walking distance of the marina. All the upscale houses, and there are zillions of those, require a car. The Atlantic Beach is about a mile away, available by bus or on foot. As a result of all these amenities and the great weather (most of the time), Vero is an extremely popular anchorage, and lots of people spend the winter. It’s so easy to stay here, its nickname is “Velcro Beach.” It does have its downside – the mangroves are full of “no see ums” (flying chiggers) and I am poxed with bites. David, blast him, hasn’t been bitten once.

On the way down from St. Augustine we stopped in Fort Matanzas, Daytona Beach, Titusville and Coco. Fort Matanzas was a quick hop from St. Augustine, an open and sloshing anchorage thanks to the fishing boats and touristy boats headed for a look at the fort. For some reason we were just whacked by that short trip. There was a lot of traffic on the ICW, which makes it about as much fun to travel as a main highway. The anchorage was too open for my taste and we weren’t sure of our holding, and then of course the sloshing we took from each power boat that went by made the afternoon uncomfortable. Daytona Beach was better – good holding and very close to a public park. We pulled in at dusk and admired the view across the water, which was lined with city lights. Unfortunately the anchorage was also very close to a sewage treatment plant, so pulling up the anchor was no fun.

The trip to Titusville was better – we popped out into Mosquito Bay from the canal and got away from the endless fancy homes that crowd the banks along the canal. In some places the waterway is a solid Parade of Homes show, which bores me silly, especially as there are no people outside on those fabulously expensive lawns and porches. Mosquito Bay is shallow and spreads out into an enormous expanse of water full of islands. The ICW canal is a narrow dredge, deepening the Bay from its natural one to five foot depth down to ten and eleven feet. The Bay is a popular fishing area and there are several fishing camps on the shores leading up to the entrance of the Bay. Numerous small boats were anchored in the shallow water with people bent intently over their rods. Just before Titusville we hooked a sharp right from the Bay into a narrow artificial canal and found ourselves sailing between two banks of fisherfolk, lined up with their pickups, picnic supplies, and fishing gear.

We anchored off Titusville for one night and then went into the marina to plug in the heater as a cold front arrived and dropped the night time temperatures into the 30s. Raven was boxed in by huge trawlers to each side and in front, a garage of big boats that kept the wind from tossing us until it clocked around to the stern. Once that happened, we bounced and jounced and slopped with the rest of them. While there, we met the fine folks on a neighboring trawler, Second Chance, who have been to the Bahamas numerous times, and we spent two pleasant days in their company, enjoying their stories and their two friendly and mischievous Portuguese water dogs. They generously let us share the car they had rented, so we were able to make a Wal-Mart run. We were so grateful – thank you, Chris and Vivian! The only grocery store within walking distance of the marina was quite small and quite vile, even for people desperately in need of bread. Our trips to Wal-Mart let us see some of the town, as well. Titusville seems to be waiting for a renaissance or to be swallowed by Daytona Beach. It just looked a bit tired and shopworn. Finally, before we had a chance to completely lose our minds from cabin fever and cold, the winds died down, the temperature crept back up, and we headed for Coco.

Coco's pretty anchorage butts up against a lovely oldish downtown full of small shops. We walked to the bank, found an ice cream parlor, and bumped into our friend Matt from Worth W8N4 in the hardware store. When we walked over to their slip in the marina later in the day, they told tales of their experience with the stiff winds we had weathered in Titusville. The wind blew right up their stern the whole time, with no protection to speak of, and they spent the bad weather slapping up and down about three feet, the boat’s stern spanking the water and threatening to strike the pilings on either side. The “breakwater” behind the transient slips consists of a split rail fence, wholly inadequate to break any of the water or wind rushing against the boats. Not only that, they had company on board at the time!

From Coco it was a long day’s motoring to Vero Beach. A few rain showers found us, but most of them circled the water. The sun shone sporadically, sunlight piercing sheets of gray water falling from patchy black clouds on the horizon. At Vero we rafted up with another boat for the first time. Thankfully our new neighbors were home and they came out on deck and caught our bow and stern lines, securing them to their own cleats. Once rafted, two or three boats just drift together as one. It’s fun having neighbors so close. We found out David is from Dickinson, Texas and Becky is from Jacksonville, Florida. They have a little Pomeranian, Ginger, who negotiated the entire length of their boat fearlessly, stepping daintily from cabin roof to deck before curling up for a nap in the cockpit. She and Schnitzel exchanged obligatory growls and then settled down to the occasional bark. David and Becky buy repossessed boats, fix them up, and sell them, so their boat YoGo was new to them. They move two or three times a year onto another boat and make enough of a profit to maintain their cruising life. They used to run a campground in Mississippi, and had lots of tales to tell of good tenants, crazy tenants, and Hurricane Katrina. They continued their journey after about three days and we’ve surely missed them.

David and I also had the chance to work a power boat show in Stuart Beach for a couple of days. Our friends on Tarwathie, Dick and Libby, told us about the opportunity. We drove down to Stuart with them and another couple, Stefan and Laurie, having no idea what to expect. Everyone was friendly and pleasant and not at all dismayed at our lack of experience. We were given mustard colored t-shirts, name tags, and grunt jobs. I opened and closed an access gate and David directed traffic in a parking lot. I worked 9 hours and David worked about 7. Then he went back the next day and worked another 9 ½ hours doing the same thing. My job was stolen by Boy Scouts, so I stayed home and read and thanked God I wasn’t opening and closing a gate. It was fun and it will pay for our mooring here in Vero, but I’m glad I don’t do it every day. Lots of cruisers work the boat shows to help fatten the kitty, but boy, is it hard work. David and I were both wrecked by the end of the first day. I have no idea how he managed to do it again the next day. We had to get up at 5:30 a.m. to dress and take Schnitzel to shore, take her back to the boat, and turn around and get back to the dock by 7, so we could drive for an hour to get to the show by 8:30, then work 9 hours, then drive back, then dinghy back to the boat, get the dog, back to the shore, back to the boat, eat something and DIE.

For the rest of our stay, we’ll be doing boat jobs and errands and enjoying the warmth. David has already rebuilt the head (I’ll let him tell that tale) and I think that was the worst chore on the list, so the rest should be relatively stress free.