Marina Medley

Midway down the east coast of Florida, the Vero Beach Municipal Marina is unusually rural for being in the heart of Snowbird-ville.  In addition to about 100 slips, the marina has 57 moorings on which they put up to three boats each.  You do the math, but thems a lot of boats.  Some stay on a mooring all winter, some stay all year, and some are passing through on the way to the Bahamas, the Keys or the west coast.  It's an adventure being on a mooring, because you never know who's going to be your neighbor

Being only a limited adventurer, Vicki is holding forth with Barry at Slip 16N for the winter.  We are the trawler in the middle.

Getting a slip here is no slam dunk.  I sent a check one year ago to reserve the space.

Living in a marina is basically like living in an RV on the water.   Being Florida, it's warm and has an outdoorsy feel.  It's not as social as I expected, although they say that everyone is home for the holidays and there will be a surge after the first of the year (when I go home).

This occurs each Thursday...




Marina office and dock....

The Campus...

Spanish Moss.

Crab holes are made by crabs (and what is the color of George Washington's white horse?)

Marina lounge with showers and laundry...

A free bus comes by every hour to take people to downtown and groceries.

Gayle and Bill, spending a day at the lounge.  Lots of boaters on moorings dinghy in for the day.  This is a plan that would drive me crazy, but it works for those who like being dirtless.

Dinghy dock...

Sidebar...

A retrofit to stay cool

Balboita album...

Gratuitous beautiful dog pix

Gratuitous happy hour pix. Balboita's back porch.

That's all folks  :)

Vero and other things...

As reported, we arrived in Vero yesterday.

and,

guess what?

Our former buddy boater Tom Butz greeted us with "Hail to the Chief" playing on his Bose speaker when we pulled up to the fuel dock.

and then we went for happy hour...

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Along the way:

More dead boats...

This bugger was in same place when we passed in 2014...which shows you that boats never die, they just slowly fade away.  .

A totally adorable ICW restaurant...

A mansion and an ugly duckling...

Something my mother, Yuba, would design on a napkin

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I forgot to mention....

We came to a place that looked something like this and realized that.  We are lost.  Yes, lost on the Intracoastal Waterway.  Thoughts of the African Queen.   When were we going to run out of water and find ourselves in the weeds?  "Mr. Allnut, where, indeed, are we?"

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This is son Jim's contribution for the end of a long journey (as in two months to get to Vero)

And, then there's this...

Sign in a local wine store:  No good story starts with a salad.

That's all folks...

We are freakin' here!

Vero, we love you.

that's all folks...

Fernandina, Fla.

This place has been hit by two hurricanes.  Talked to a liveaboard next to us and he had 14 lines tied to his boat during both storms.  A spider web, he called it. 

Apparently, most damage was done by Matthew and Irma put on the finishing touches.  However, various levels of government have been dickering about the funding so that nothing has been repaired. 

Overlapping this is a similar story to Southport.  The marina is silting in and there are 12 agencies "deciding" how to handle it.  It's like no one cares about boaters and boating.  Just about where to put the mud so no one is pissed off. 

As of now, Fernandina's entire breakwater/face dock is kaput.  We are at one of only five transient slips and there are 12 mooring balls.  



Here are some dead boats piled up on the side on the way in....

Fernandina's famous factory skyline...

Ending on an up-note, Barry took another one of his famous sunset shots.  This is at Isle of Hope in Savannah, Ga.

That's all folks....

Happy Gobble Day

Also-rans....

That's all folks...

Beaufort, SC, sights

Meet Mr. Kitty...

Mr.Kitty is very secure in his identity as a dog.  He joined our dock yesterday and, according to his owners, he is a rescue dog who chose his own name.  

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 Meet Super-boat...

Is it a boat or is it a house?  Apparently, it's both and it seems to be living around Beaufort, because we see it going and coming several times a day.  Running on a solar panel roof, the houseboat has a couple of grills on the topside and I think chickens in a little cage in the back.

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Change of Plans...

We were going to move on today, but the fog was very thick and by the time it cleared, we would have had to drive at 10 knots to make the next location before dark.  $$$$

Instead, we're staying here and will be going to a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow sponsored by a local church for boaters.  Beats the original plan of going through Hell Gate, one of the rotteness of all nautical rottenesses along the ICW.  At low tide, it's one foot and at high tide, seven feet.

Upcoming events...

The Little Mud River

I'm told that Little Mud includes 4/5ths of all the mud in Georgia.  At low tide it is one foot and at high tide, 7 feet.  Engineers have looked into the situation and it seems the only fix is to build a 10 foot berm on the sides so the mud can't slide back in.  

After that, Brunswick, Ga., and then Florida where the tides are not as vicious, the weather is warmer and the children are above average. 

That's all folks....

Highs and lows of the last 200 miles

Lemme' get right to the lows...

White knuckle time.  The is the chart screen which shows the depth under the bottom of our boat in the upper left corner.  This means that there was about 3 inches under our boat as we passed by.  At one point, the chart read minus one foot which meant either our sensor was off or we were dredging the ICW for the state of South Carolina.  

This is what it looked like as we went by:

Tides average 7 to 10 feet in these here parts.  These photos were taken as we went by at the time of the chart reading.  In the end, all you can do is go down the middle and have an intense session of mind over matter.

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Speaking of tides, here are some results...

This is a 48-foot sport fish power boat that sank recently in Bull Creek, South Carolina, where we anchored one night.  The Coast Guard told me that whatever happens to this wreck is now up to EPA.  

Dealing with wrecks in waterways is complicated.  They mostly get left there until they fall apart because there is no landfill for boats.  They become part of the scenery while EPA writes another report.

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The highs: a night in Bull Creek...

This is supposed to be what cruising is like.  A quiet gunk hole with absolutely no civilization.  A night at anchor in total darkness.  Disorienting when there are no lights to relate to.  Reminded me a little of crossing the Bahama Bank where there are also no lights from buoys, cars, restaurants, anything.  Does a human exist where there is no light?

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Waterway real estate...

Probably a fire.

Not easy to build.

Cheaper seats.  

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A sight to remind us we do exist...

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Postscripts:

The bar at Myrtle Beach Yacht Club.

Late report:  Remember the farm-sitting we did?  Well, unfortunately a stray dog got into the turkeys and killed 76 of them.  This is what farmers have to put up with.  All that work raising the chickens, cows, corn, beans, whatever, can be wiped out by Mother Nature.  And to think that I'm complaining about the tides.  -- Vicki

That's all folks.