Honey Queen Adventures

We sat still today in Hooker Cove and enjoyed a Sunday, day of rest, Valentine’s Day.  Being “stranded” on the water, there was no access to chocolates, flowers, champagne, and expensive dinners.  We suffered through the gorgeous day, anticipating the delivery of our boat to the yard tomorrow morning for necessary maintenance.

Day 9—February 15

Our ride to the boat yard this morning was just over 3 miles.  We have heard positive comments about A & J Boat Yard, so we are hopeful all will go as planned and we will be on our way south again on Friday. 

Our haul-out time was scheduled for 9 am.  I called at 8:40 and they said they would call me when it was my turn.  I was just outside the basin of the yard, watching the travel-lift operator get into position when at 8:59, he gave me the hand signal to come on in.  We literally were in the slings at 9:10.  So far, so good.  We unloaded all our baggage on the dock and got out of the way while they lifted the boat from the water.

While we were getting things straight with the boat yard, we met a local couple having work done on their new “to them” boat.  They offered us a ride to the hotel which we accepted without hesitation.  Having done this boat traveling thing for a couple years, and being a harbor host now in Savannah, I have learned that boat people just like to do those kinds of thing for other boaters.  Whether on the giving end or the receiving end, I find great pleasure in meeting folks in this environment.  We may never see Rich and Eileen again, but we were appreciative of their kindness.

We checked into the Old Colorado Inn in downtown Stuart and began our planned week of exploring and doing what I enjoy the most, shopping.

Hole in the Wall—Vero—Ft. Pierce—Stuart (Hooker Cove)

Another restful night, thanks to Capt. Chris.  His advice for this anchorage had us positioned well to get a little south breeze, and yet be protected from the boat traffic wakes on the ICW.  With only 33 miles to our destination of Stuart, we started the day slowly and moved at that pace most of the day. I am sensing I need to do something to work on my reflexes, because living the trawler life doesn’t exactly demand a quick reaction to anything…other than a sandbar.  There are times when it is critical to think quickly, but there are often hours between those moments, so sometimes the most dangerous this captain at the helm are the moments when nothing is happening, and staying awake is the biggest challenge.

When we did get moving, we headed out the same way we came in.  Side bar:  The tide swing here is less than a foot.  That’s good when you’re at anchor.  Not much to worry about when sleeping.  But when  dealing with shallow water, sometimes we count on a higher tide. For example, when the inevitable shoal finds the bottom of your boat, the rising water will eventually deliver you.  But here, at this spot, not so much the case.  I followed my track that we made coming in yesterday.  Hard to believe it, but that was not a good idea.  I hit the shoal we hit yesterday.  No problem, I thought.  I’ll just power through again.  I managed to wedge our keel deeper into the shoal before the boat came to a complete stop.  No problem, a little thrust to the left, then to the right, and then reverse and we will be on our way…I thought.  I checked the tide chart, looking for the water I would gain. It measured I would gain about .2 (yes, 2/10) of a foot…in 3-4 hours!  Amanda asked if I wanted her to call Tow Boat US.  “Not yet!”, I said.  I thrusted a little more, reversed a little more (red lined the engine) and BAM, the Honey Queen broke loose and started moving backward.  We got lucky.  The beauty of going so slow is we did not wedge ourselves too deeply into the shoal.  We picked an unlikely route out of the side channel that ended up being the right choice.  We found some 8’ plus deep water and puttered back into the ICW. 

We had some weather today, but not too threatening.  The water was fairly open, so we got to meet a few of the Florida Arrogant Big Boaters (FABBs).  These guys love their big boats more than they love people. Most are blind to trawlers and other “lesser” watercraft.  They throw 6’ wakes and generally enjoy the middle half of the ICW. Their time is obviously, very important because they don’t slow down. It takes them too long to get back on a plane if they slow down, not to mention the burn rate on fuel of 50 gallons per hour…per engine.  This is really my only complaint about South Florida.  The rest is pretty nice.

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We arrived at Hooker Cove, coincidentally, about the same time as yesterday’s schedule, 4:45.  Six hours underway took us to this great, very open anchorage, which is known as a great take off point for crossing the Okeechobee.   This is the end of the St. Lucie River.  The basin is pretty large, but well protected. But I’m sure it can get pretty choppy on very windy days because of the shallow water.  But our time on the hook gave us just a nice breeze.  And the best part, there was not another boat that anchored in our sight, so we pretty much had it to ourselves.  And because of the size of the basin, the homes on the water are far enough away so we don’t feel like we pulled up in someone’s back yard and camped out.

We arrived at our first critical destination a day early.  This is Saturday afternoon.  We have an appointment in the boat yard for 9:00 am Monday morning.  If we had had any inclement weather, we would not have made it today.  But our aggressive miles earlier in the week, complimented by mostly good weather, have us ahead of schedule.  We will look forward to Sunday, and make it a day of rest.

Cocoa—Melbourne—Palm Bay–Sebastian–Hole in the Wall(N of Vero)

Left Cocoa Beach Anchorage around 8 am. It’s the first morning we’ve not had a fog excuse for getting up early.  The anchorage, though near the bridge, was quiet and well protected, so it was another good night.  We’ve been blessed by nice weather and temperatures.

One small addition we made to the boat since the Loop was fans.  We installed 4—12volt fans; 2 in the state room, 1 in the pilot house, and 1 in the salon.  Now that we’ve gotten further south, the moving air feels nice with the higher temps. The low voltage fans pull fewer amps from the house batteries than using 120 volt fans, through the inverter.  We also added a new 12-volt freezer.  This will allow us to keep more meat and frozen goods on hand for our trip to the Bahamas.  Our hope is to spend more time on the hook and less time in marinas and grocery stores.  The fans and the freezer have been a pleasant surprise regarding amp usage, drawing less power than expected, extending battery life in between charges by the generator.

I touched base with our former training captain, Chris Caldwell, from Vero Beach, and got a heads up on a good anchorage. He said the Hole in the Wall anchorage, near Pine Island/N. of Vero Beach, was good. So we charted to the spot and headed that way.

The day was pretty uneventful, for the most part. We did bump the bottom at 4 1/2′ (our boat drafts 4′-9″) as we came off the ICW into the anchorage. I took a chance and powered my way through, hoping for deeper water beyond the shoal. It’s probably not a good idea to do that, but the charts showed deeper water just beyond, so I went for it. We got lucky and just a few feet later, we were floating again, without noises coming from below. We got to the spot about 4:45, taking about 6 hours to arrive. It was early enough to allow a few minutes on the bow cushion to enjoy the warmth of the day and watch another boat fight getting their anchor unstuck from the soft mud. Temps ranged from 75-80 degrees and the weather was quite pleasant.

Since completing the Loop, we have been busy on the home front.  We spent the summer getting our home ready to sell.  Twenty-two years in one place means lots of accumulation.  Much of that accumulation is good.  Memories, mainly.  Amanda worked herself into the ground trying to sort and sift the “stuff”.  If I could have helped her, she still wouldn’t have let me.  It was important to her to touch everything and make rational, non-emotional decisions. I worked on the house itself, making tons of minor repairs from wood replacement to driveway sections.  Had to sub out a few things beyond my skill set, but by November, the house and yard looked great.  We listed the house with our friend Joe Dyer and 7 days later, we were under contract.  While the house prep was going on, we were also looking for our new home. We closed on our new home before we had a contract on our existing, but it all worked out. We survived the move and will probably be unpacking and organizing for months to come.  With the “home “work behind us, we scheduled our next boat trip.  The goal is to spend a month in the Keys and 2 months in the Bahamas.  We hope Covid will be cooperative this year and allow it to happen.  We’re grateful for the opportunities to travel and enjoy our retirement, knowing so many have problems MUCH BIGGER than ours. How this little adventure turns out, is yet to be determined.

Day 1–February 7

Delegal Creek–Ossabaw Sound–St. Catherine Sound–Sapelo Sound–Altamaha Sound.

Having finished the Loop on June 7, 2020, our 8-month landlubber sabbatical has finally ended. After a number of frustrations getting boat repairs, all issues (that we know of) were resolved on Saturday, the 6^th. Ben helped me get it put together Saturday morning and we did a sea trial up Delegal Creek (I guess it was a creek trial, technically) to be sure all was holding well.  Our Democratic friends will be disappointed that we did not get rid of our generator and engine and install solar panels this year.  Once all the new jobs are created by the solar industry and there’s no more diesel fuel, we will make the improvement to our little mobile home (boat).

We pushed our 40-mile plan to 53 to close the gap on the late (later than planned) start date.  We have an appointment at a boatyard in Stuart, Florida, for a bottom job.  No plastic surgeons will be involved; we simply need to put a coat of paint on Honey Queen’s bottom.  We left small paint deposits on sandbars along our last 6,000 plus mile trip.  So it’s time. With our appointment on 15 February, we are pushing to be in Stuart on the 14^th. 

After crossing 4 sounds and some really shallow water, we made it to our first anchorage, called Wally’s Leg, near St. Simon’s Island.  With a nip in the air, the skies were clear; we enjoyed the stars for 5 minutes before going in and literally pulling the covers up over our head to stay warm.

Day 2–February 8

Wally’s Leg—St. Simon’s Sound—St. Andrew’s Sound—Cumberland Island—St. Mary’s Inlet—Fernandina—Sister’s Creek/Jacksonville

We pushed again, covering 63 (nautical) miles, 20 miles farther than the original plan.  Sister’s Creek is a free city marina.  Though no electrical or water connections, it does provide a secure place to tie lines and helps us sleep a little better, not having to be concerned about a dragging anchor.

We saw so few on the Loop and were surprised to see 3 so close to home.

Day 3–February 9

Sister’s Creek—Pablo Creek—Palm Coast

We rose early at Sister’s Creek, ready to attack the day.  The fogged rolled in at daybreak, so we sat for 3 hours before leaving.  Assuming it would be impossible to make our 53-mile plan, we agreed we would go as far as safely possible and call it a day.  With a little help from the tides, we made better than expected time.  We decided to push to Palm Coast City Marina, though it would be after dark.  We called and they assured us someone would be there to direct us to our spot and catch our lines.  A live-aboard couple did meet us and gave us a hand, as promised.  Rosine, the dock master at the marina is a cordial professional and we appreciate the work she and her staff do for folks like us.

Day 4–February 10

Palm Coast—Flagler’s Beach—Daytona—New Smyrna Beach

We woke again to fog, it cleared, we took off. Ten minutes later, we ran into another wall of fog.  We puttered at 3 knots for several miles, with visibility sometimes as little as 50 yards.  Usually, crab traps are such a pain when navigating, but this morning, they were my friend.  Spaced along the edge of the channel of the ICW, I was able to keep one of them in view most of the time.  Them, and my radar, got us safely through the fog.  Two more times, as we travelled, we ran into fog.  But visibility was bearable and we kept moving. We covered 38 miles (our shortest since leaving) and arrived in NSB just after 4 pm.

John and Karen DeYoung, friends we made last year south of Chicago, have a home in NSB.  They came by and picked us up at the marina and we had a walk on the beach and then dinner at The Garlic, a fabulous Italian restaurant.  It was fun to catch up with them, continue our friendship, and look forward to our next visit with them…somewhere.

Day 5–February 11

NSB—Indian River—Edgewater—Titusville—Cocoa

For the 3^rd day in row, fog was waiting on us when daylight hit.  Plans to hit it at daylight and arrive at a planned destination early were foiled again.  We piddled until 9 am. The fog lifted and we took off.  Today was easiest day yet on this brief journey.  The distance was 45 miles, but the vast majority of the travel was literally in a straight line.  Setting very few waypoints on the trip plan, I was able to set Auto Pilot and sit in the pilot house and watch the boat do its thing.  The weather turned beautiful with temps hitting the low 70’s and bright sunshine.  We enjoyed having the windows and doors open and wearing shorts and T shirts.

We made it to Cocoa and dropped the anchor at the W. Cocoa Beach Causeway Bridge.  Winds were out of the south-southeast, so we tucked in on the north side for protection from the forecasted light breezes and rain tonight.

The last time…

I awoke, for the last time on our journey, early this morning to clouds and rain that soon followed. We sipped our coffee, blogged a little, and by 8:30, I was on the bow, rain jacket donned, pulling up our anchor…for the last time on this trip.  For this 4-hour leg, my mind kept returning to the same thought:  That (whatever I’m doing at the moment) is the last time I’ll do “that” on this trip.  We believe, trust, and certainly hope there will be other trips.  All week, we have discussed our sinking moments, knowing that today this journey will end. 

We reached Hell Gate (a well-known tight spot on the ICW just prior to entering the Ossabaw Sound around noon. With a good push from the current, we were ahead of the 1 pm scheduled arrival.  Our welcome party that Amanda organized would not be there yet.  So, we rode past the entrance to Delegal Creek toward South Wassaw Island.  It was still there.  For twenty years, this beach has been our favorite “re-creation” spot. Lots of productive time was spent here, rebuilding brain cells from the stress of a 60 hour/week business. On this little beach are memories of building sand castles, picking up shells, throwing horseshoes, footballs, and frisbees, sitting under the umbrella eating pineapple sandwiches and Oreos, drinking cool refreshments, and napping, often waking to the drool on my t-shirt or bare chest, hoping no one had noticed.

The detour to South Wassaw allowed time for the reception to gather for our entry into Delegal Creek Marina.  I turned the Honey Queen around, and as fate would have it, hit bottom one more time (but probably not the last time).  Though the water was charted as 21 feet deep, I must have needed one more lesson in humility, because the water quickly became 4 feet deep (we draft 5 feet).  The idea of being stuck on a sand bar, on an outgoing tide, and having 15 people waiting on the dock was humiliating. I randomly picked a turn to port as an escape route.  The boat was barely moving as it slid through the sand; 4 feet…4 1/2 feet…5 feet…6 feet… and soon 21 feet of water (as charted) was below the keel. (Side note: I had the bottom of the boat scraped for barnacles before we left Marathon. The diver told me the bottom paint appeared to be in good shape, except the bottom of the keel. There was no paint there. I told him I knew where I had left that paint, recalling the number of shoals I had blazed). I was so relieved we broke loose and the show would go on. Though a little late for the 1:00 pm grand entrance, we pulled into Delegal Creek and wound our way to the marina. 

There, friends and family members yelled and waved to us, welcoming us home.  What a rush! Of course, now I would have a large audience for my (yes, I know) last docking of the trip. The pressure was on, knowing I would be under the microscope. With the wind blowing from the North and outgoing current going the opposite direction, I pulled into the fairway and attempted to back toward Slip #C-19.  The current grabbed the boat and started pushing me into the adjacent docks.  I was certain the wind would be the stronger of the two forces, but I was wrong.  And all these people are thinking, “How did so called “captain” get this far, the way he drives?”  I hit reverse as the current carried me sideways.  I was able to clear the boat on the face dock (by a safe margin) and regather my thoughts.  I turned the boat into the wind with the stern facing into the current, and proceeded to zig-zag into the slip, like I knew what I was doing.  I got a small round of applause from the members of the audience who were boaters.  I was far more relieved than proud at the outcome, because there were lots of pictures and witnesses.

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With many friends present, and 2 of our kids (Ben and Clint and wives and grandchildren) I was humbled.  Here we were home, safe and sound, hearts packed full of special memories and friendships that we will share for a lifetime, and all these kind folks were here to celebrate the closing of this chapter of our life, America’s Great Loop.  Amanda and Wes crossed their wake and are now, officially, Gold Loopers.

Trip Statistics

Distance traveled 6,231 (statute) miles

Hours (engine) 811

Average speed 7.7 mph

Fuel burn 3.87 mpg

Gallons used 1,610

Observations

Best Day May 4, 2019: This Saturday was filled with the wood boat show, the thrill of watching kids being mentored by adults, as they built and raced their new boats.

Worst Day June 21, 2019: We crossed the Chesapeake from Deltaville, heading to Tangier Island. The weather forecast called for lots of wind in the afternoon, but our ETA was noon, so I figured we would be fine. Not so. The rough seas stirred the debris in the bottom of the diesel tanks. At 11:00 am, the engine stopped, filters plugged, 1 hour from our destination. The Coast Guard rescued us and towed us to Tangier. It took us 4 days in the marina to get the nerve to cruise again.

Longest Day October 29, 2019: We boated 101 nautical (116 statute) miles in 10 hours., averaging more than 10 knots. Very swift current and no good place to stop or anchor; we flew down the Mississippi River!

Favorite Place August 25, 2019: The Pool at Collins Inlet, Georgian Bay. One of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. They say up here a dip in the Pool will change your life.

Epilogue–Crossing the Wake

On June 7, 2020, Honey Queen crossed her wake in Savannah, Georgia. Like many before us, the excitement and emotion of the symbolic crossing was a high for us both. One lesson, of many, we learned: Crossing your wake is the accomplishment of a large team, not just two, old retired folks.

To those who made this adventure possible, we salute and celebrate you. Larry, the former owner of our boat, who gave 4 days of his time to orient us with every detail on the boat he had loved. Captain Chris Caldwell, who taught us how to navigate and dock (and a 1,000 other details) the Honey Queen and built our confidence. They convinced us we could do it. To the professional tow operators, who answered our ignorant requests on the VHF, with a “1” or a “2”, we thank you for your kindness. Speaking for all Loopers, we thank Kim Russo for making this experience a positive.  She assisted in “herding the cats”, coordinating our groups to navigate the river system during lock closures.  And she lead the movement to resolve the outrageous anchoring law in my home state of Georgia.  That was a really big deal! Our buddy boats, On Missions, Salty Dog, Vitamin Sea, and All Talk II became more than friends.  Their expertise, wisdom, sense of humor, and companionship made our experience safer and LOTS more fun. Every marina operator and dock hand that caught a line, took our trash, pumped us out, and gave us local knowledge really filled a gap as we gained experience. And, of course, every Looper along the way, who became our neighbor, we are grateful to you for all the docktails and tall tales we shared along the way.  Without a doubt, the friendship of boaters brought great memories to the adventure. But the biggest recognition must go to the Admiral, the swabby, the cook, the organizer, the navigator, the roommate, and friend for more than 42 years, Amanda. She completes “my” Loop.

Fair winds, friends.

Wes & Amanda Dorman

Honey Queen

1998–39’ Krogen Hull #3 (of 51)

We pulled out a little later than our normal time allowing everybody to enjoy an extra few minutes of sleep.  At 9:30ish, we left the last marina of our Great Loop Adventure.  We went up the Mackay River and the Altamaha River.  We crossed the Altamaha, Doboy, and Sapelo Sounds, as well.  Other than some oddly placed and missing markers, we had no real challenges.  The tide was our friend more often than foe, granting faster than normal speeds. 

The highlight of the day was our encounter with a shrimp boat.  We passed by the shrimper, off to the side of a dredged creek.  His boat, the Warhorse, looked like it had weathered several wars.  Old, tattered, and ragged, he told us later, he had just acquired the boat, was from South Carolina, and was down here trying to make a living.  The tide was outgoing, but I figured a shrimper knows far more about the water than I ever would, so I waved and kept going.  He pulled in line between Steve and me, churning lots of mud in the process to get back in deeper water.  Had he not left right then, he would have been stuck for 4-5 hours, waiting on the tide. I called him on the VHF, offereing him the opportunity to pass if he wanted.  He said, “Naw, I’m aight.  Mada wrong turn back dar ‘n I’ll be headin’ back fo jus a lil wile, so don’t need no pass.”  He didn’t need to pass, but he did like following a little too closely for my comfort level.  His outriggers were down and my fear of possibly finding a sandbar first, and an outrigger shishkabobbing the Honey Queen, I called him and said I would be slowing down so he could ease around me.  He made a few other comments in his Geechee, South Carolina dialect, something to the effect that he would pass but would be turning off shortly. As he eased by, I called him once more.  “Throw me a couple shrimp as you ease by,” I called.  He responded, “Yont sum?”  “Absolutely!” was my answer.  I asked how many pounds he could let me have and how much did he want for them.  “Got any cigarettes?” was the response.  I apologized, “No sir, no cigarettes.”  He said, “Pull up on heah hind me, and I’ll give you some.”  So he stopped the boat, and I eased up to his transom.  Amanda perched up on the anchor pulpit and he handed her a trash bag full of fresh shrimp.  He didn’t want money.  I pulled a safe distance away from him and called him once more on the radio.  “I’m sorry I didn’t have any cigarettes for you,” I called.  He said, “Dat’s aight. I’ll be able to git some in a few.  Just say a little prayer for us, instead.”  I promised that I would be happy to do so.  I immediately asked God to bless this man for his faithfulness, and if it was God’s will, to fill his nets many times over.  I’ll probably never run into him again, but the experience was fun and I hope he does well as he tries to make it on his own as a shrimper.

Arriving just before 4:00 pm, the anchorage at Wahoo River (McIntosh County) was as pretty as so many before today.  Seems like yesterday (late April 2019), we were anchoring between Savannah and Beaufort, on our first night on the water. Nervous and completely oblivious to most conditions, we have enjoyed God’s hand of protection over this little trawler for more than a year, having been granted favor as we learned what we were doing.

Traveling with open doors and windows today, we did accumulate a few green headed, carnivorous flies.  They love to be inside, with people.  They were so thick, that after getting the anchor set, we closed up the boat, turned on the air conditioner, and killed a few dozen. Afterward, we were finally able to focus on dinner preparations.  I headed and cleaned all the shrimp while Amanda prepped okra and made a banana pudding.  I splashed the dinghy in the water for the last time, we loaded up the dinner groceries, and puttered to All Talk II.  Steve is a pretty good cook, having grown up with a mom in the restaurant business. He loves to don the apron and put on a show.  He cooked spaghetti squash and made his famous (to us anyway) Caesar salad.  We pulled out the shrimp and he sauteed them to perfection.  We ate like royalty. Stuffed and depressed, we sadly looked at one another, knowing this was our last dinner together on The Loop. 

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We rode the dinghy back to our boat in the dark (100 yards away) and shut down for the night.  Our last night on the water, like our first, was spent anchoring out, away from the sight of anything man-made, and away from sound, other than the restful rhythm of the water pattering on the bottom of the boat, comforting like a mother’s hand on the back of her child as he falls into a deep sleep. I will miss this.

Cumberland to St. Simon’s Island (Golden Isles Marina)

It’s good to be in Georgia. Anchoring in Cumberland Sound and seeing live oaks, the brown Atlantic waters, and the rich green marsh grass along the banks of the waterways felt like a giant welcome mat to these not so weary travelers. The breeze was gentle all night, and in rhythm with the gentle sway of the boat and fairly swift current, we slept well.

At 9ish, we pulled anchor and headed North (as usual).  With only 28 NM on the docket today, we arrived at Golden Isles Marina just after 1pm.  The docks look brand new, floating concrete, and what appears to be all teak decking inlaid.  The new power pedestals gave us fits when hooking up our electrical.  Neither Steve nor I have had any issues, but today we both did.  The marina staff was insistent we had ground fault issues on our boat.  I argued that I haven’t had them before today.  After my power tripped their breaker 4 times, they switched to another circuit.  Like magic, suddenly, MY ground fault issue went away and I had no more trouble.  They put in a call to their electician. Steve, on the other hand, was not able to resolve his issue as quickly, but did eventually find something on his boat contributing to the problem. Not knowing what I am talking about electrically, I do know the new GFI (ground fault interrupter) systems are extremely sensitive.  Fortunately, most of the marinas on this journey were either older, or they had, at least, worked out all their issues, so I have been to not deal with the headaches associated with this critical safety device.

I gave the Honey Queen an overdue bath this afternoon while Amanda caught up with her old girlfriend, Frances, who lives in St. Simon’s Island. We (Amanda) got the covers to all the seats in the salon washed, as well.  They need to be spotless because Sunday afternoon we will be home and thousands will be there waving ‘Welcome Home’ signs, and our boat, inside and out, must look perfect for the cruise into our final stop.

The Coastal Kitchen is the onsite restaurant at the marina.  Sometimes, these places are tourist traps and serve mediocre bar food, but occasionally, they are really nice.  With the convenience of a restaurant at the end of the pier, we “carless” couples decided it was worth the risk, so we made reservations.  We started with calamari, second only to that we recently enjoyed at the Daytona Chart House. Our meals of fried shrimp, shrimp and grits, boiled shrimp, and a filet all got 4 stars.  We waddled back to the boat, I plotted our trip to the Wahoo River anchorage for the next day, and fell asleep to the hum of the cool dry air conditioning blowing against my face.

We jumped up this morning and got out of the marina just after 8 am.  The tide was high so we didn’t have any concerns getting through their channel. Our journey of 34 NM seemed to go pretty fast; it did take just over 5 hours.  We found a delightful anchorage just west of Cumberland Island and after getting our anchors secure, Steve deployed his dinghy and picked us up.  We went to the public dock on the island and walked among the gorgeous live oaks and on the beaches.  We toured the ruins of the 34,000 square foot home of Andrew Carnegie that burned in 1959.  The layout of the plantation and the history surrounding this late 19^th and 20^th century estate was so interesting.  Wild horses and deer are plentiful and we saw them a number of times as we walked.  We got plenty of exercise and enjoyed every minute.  The forecasted rain did pepper us all morning while underway, but it avoided us while we were on our walk.  The sun even came out as we were headed back to the dinghy.  We rode in the dinghy up and down the west side of the island (we don’t get enough boat riding) and saw the Greyfield Inn.  An exclusive, historic (and we all know what exclusive means) hotel, Amanda wants me to bring her back here some time.  I figure I can sell the boat and maybe we can stay a couple nights sometime.

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We all came back to the boat and ate so much cheese and crackers we skipped eating supper. We watched a beautiful sunset and then walked to the other side of the boat and watched the full moon rise. 

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We watched the Coast Guard boats and Navy warships go by (we are almost in sight of King’s Bay, the nuclear submarine base).  We hope to see one of those awesome submarines as we cruise by the base on the ICW tomorrow morning.

As I write tonight, I am very introspective.  It just occurred to me that we will anchor one more night and stay in a marina one more night.  Sunday afternoon, this adventure will be over, and neither of us likes that idea even one little bit.  The reunion with friends and family will be sweet.  We have missed them.  Our grandchildren await; we hope they remember Honey and Poppy.  We do look forward to being a part of their routine and making sure they are properly spoiled.  But we will miss the days, the nights, the adventure, the friends, and all the surprises that have made us now who we are. The worn out cliché:  we don’t know what the future holds, but we do know Who holds the future, seems especially surreal now.  We rest in what will be next, not knowing exactly what that is.  How we do hope that some of our future includes the gentle sway of a trawler at an anchorage, soaking up lunar light on a breezy night.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO US!!!!!!  42 YEARS AT NOON!!

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We rolled out of River’s Edge Marina at 9:15 to ensure we made the 10 am bridge opening at the famous Bridge of Lions.  With a good following current, we made it so fast, we had to wait.

The forecast called for rain for several days, starting tonight, so we tried to savor the sun as much as possible by riding on the flybridge.  We drove through lots of residential areas ranging from modest to extravagant homes.  Ponte Vedra meets the definition of extravagant for sure.  We agreed these homes were not so palatial that they seemed unrealistic to live in. They looked as though normal people probably lived in them.

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We got to Palm Cove just before 2:30, dead low tide.  I had called the marina, concerned about their skinny water channel. They had assured me we would have plenty of water with our 5’ draft boats. Steve chickened out and waited for the incoming tide.  I decided to go for it to see if I could get in.  The worse that could happen would be getting stuck on a shoal and have to wait for the tide to return.  I saw a my depth of 4.4 feet at one point, but it was very soft so I pushed on through it and we made it without too much excitement.  Palm Cove is where our friends Bill and Anette keep their boat, or as we jokingly say, our boat.  In 2018, they were boat shopping at the same time as us.  The boat they now own came on the market.  When I saw it on the internet, I called my broker to make an appointment to see it.  He made the appointment for Sunday afternoon, near Jacksonville.  But Saturday, my broker called and said the boat was under contract already.  Bill and Anette had bought it.  It was about 4 weeks later, we found the Honey Queen in Stuart, Florida, and then bought it in December.  When we went to pick it up in January, we met Bill and Anette, who were staying in the same marina.  We have since talked from time to time, sharing ideas about things we do on our boats.  By the way, their boat is the exact same model as ours, so they look identical.  We ran into them at the marina in Ft. Myers in February, so when we told them we would be coming up the East coast in June, they insisted we come to their marina at Palm Cove.  We joined them for coffee on their boat, then Anette took Amanda and Susie to the grocery.  We planned dinner for the 6 of us, pooled our groceries, and had a nice evening on their boat. What a nice way to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

A Day in St. Augustine

Today was dedicated to playing tourist.  With trolley tickets and tickets to the chocolate factory in hand, we made ready for our day.  There is never a convenient time to have a plumbing issue, and we seldom have a schedule, except today.  Every few months, our shower sump pump gets clogged with…you know, stuff, stuff that resembles long blonde hair.  When this happens, it becomes a pumpless sump, not a sump pump.  It tries real hard and runs forever, but water just stands in the shower and sometimes overflows into the midship bilge.  The bottom line today: if a shower is to be taken, the sump pump will be unclogged first. I got it cleaned out, we ran through the shower, got dressed, and took off on our 15-minute walk to the chocolate factory.  At 10:03 (for our 10:00 tour), we walked in and the cute little boy in the reception area said the tour had already started.  I said, we will be glad to catch up.  “Well, you missed the safety orientation, so we can’t let you join them.” So the extensive safety orientation (3 minutes after 10 and the tour group is already gone) must have been so detailed we would never be able to stay safe in the production area.  All the being nice and being aggressive got us no where, so we walked out…without the taste of chocolate samples in our mouths.

Old Town Trolley soon came by at one of its designated stops, so we hopped on and rode around the city.  One stop was at a history museum, where I learned much about the Spanish influence on the city, how the French and English had their turns, but ultimately, the Spanish prevailed.  I must find a book or two to reinforce what all I tried to absorb today.  Lunch at Meehan’s, an Irish pub, was over the top. Then we toured a Catholic museum, a distillery, and a winery.  So much going on in this little city, and we had a great time.  Steve and Susie, our partners in crime, were with us every step of the way.  We packed all we could into the day. 

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We got back to the boat just in time for our visitors.  Our daughter in law, Elizabeth, her mom, Catherine, Catherine’s sister, Susan and her 4 children Sean, Henry, Genevieve, and Jonathon came to the boat from their beach house rental.  Our little boat was full.  I gave the boat tour, and then we wandered the marina while Catherine and Amanda had deep discussions about our children. Steve and Susie dropped by as that crew was leaving.  The four of us ended up making a pizza from scratch and then finishing off the meal with ice cream and some of Amanda’s homemade chocolate sauce.  That chocolate factory ain’t got nothing on Amanda’s sauce.  And if they ever want some, I may not share.…especially if they are 3 minutes late.

Lots of walking and rubbernecking today wore us all out. I was almost ready to invite Steve & Susie to their boat, when they decided on their own to leave. We had a great day, learning much, and seeing some family.