May 11, 2004 Tuesday 1130
Marina Bay, Fort Lauderdale
26.05.52/80.10.29 -  View Pictures

Captain John has proclaimed that departure from our slip here in Marina Bay is imminent. “Imminent” is beginning to take on a new meaning, for that has been the state of our departure since we arrived here four days ago. This morning Isabel and I received his proclamation at 0700. Immediately after it was given he departed for shore “to do a last minute errand” and we have not seen hide or hair of him since. Probably he is listening to tearful farewells from all of his friends, the repairmen. They are very sad to see us go. Of this I am sure for we have been keeping many of them gainfully employed for well into the better part of a year now. When the Mary Ann leaves Marina Bay it will be like Boeing leaving Seattle.

However, seventy four of the seventy five items on our “to do punch list” have been checked off as having been completed. The punch list will be history when U.P.S. delivers sometime this morning a small eighty buck wire coil. This coil will replace a larger wire coil and the result will be to slow the current coming into the boat. Slowing the current will keep our shore power connection from burning out every time we try to connect to shore power. How many tens of hundreds of dollars did we spend from Seattle to Fort Lauderdale for the services of engineers who came aboard to fix our burn out problem and never solved a thing? I can’t even begin to count them. In Mexico there were at least three. I have learned from this experience. I know now that there are a lot of boat engineers out there that are just as stupid as we have always admitted to being. I don’t hold it against them. The fact is that no one can claim to have real knowledge of a boat until they can truthfully say, “I have been with this baby for a long long time and I know exactly how she operates. She can’t fool me no more”.

I am very happy to report to expected guests that all five televisions are again working. John was unsuccessful in locating a monkey to climb up on the antenna and break it loose from its jammed position so he became a monkey himself.

1420 Pier 66 Captain John was at last able to end sad good bys and break away from his repairmen friends. He returned a few minutes before 1200 hours with the delivered wire coil and at 1204 we cast off our lines and began our trip up New River or the famous Miracle Mile as it is called. The Miracle Mile actually spans two miles and there are canals branching off in all directions. Boarding these canals is some of the most high end residential real estate that I have ever seen: spectacular homes fronted by huge yachts. In Seattle we have big boats and little boats. In Fort Lauderdale along these canals we see only big yachts and little yachts.

The canals are fairly narrow but there is a lot of traffic on them. Sometimes I found myself holding my breath as we squeezed by some of those “big” yachts parked where I thought they shouldn’t be parked. Although we were always in a speed controlled zone, we soon discovered that sightseer boats can come upon one suddenly as they maneuver their way around blind hairpin turns. Where does one go? Where ever they go they go very carefully. Then to complicate matters there are the traffic stopping bridges. Four of them were opened up for us. Quite frankly I was a little nervous doing this in city cruising. The Panama seemed a much friendlier canal. For sure you aren’t going to get sued for running into a car carrier. So it was with a bit of relief that I saw what appeared to be the end of the Miracle Mile. The relief was short lived. A front deck cushion blew off into the water and we had to do a 360 in order to retrieve it. Immediately the current carried the cushion into water too shallow for the boat to go. Two very nice boys sitting in front of a big mansion saw our problem and managed to retrieve it for us, one of them practically having to stand on his head over the water to make the capture. We then came in as close as we dared and then with a mighty heave the boy threw the pillow. A perfect toss. It landed right in the middle of the bow.

We are now secure in front of the Marriott Hotel where we will spend the night. It was a short first day. I think that we will find that we enjoy this type of cruising once we get used to poking along in seven or eight feet of water. It was a fascinating two hour run and what was more wonderful: all of the reefs are marked both on the charts and in the water.

Until next time . . . Captain Mary Ann

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May 13, 2004 Thursday 1600
Town of Palm BeaMarina Bay
26.42.12/80.02.49 -  View Pictures

Boy, I feel like I should go back to Captain’ school! There is no doubt whatever that this Intracoastal Waterway business is confusing. The old rules are best forgotten as new aids to navigation along this route seem to have their own identity codes thus far. “Red Right Returning?” Maybe yes, maybe no, depends on whether you’re going upstream or downstream, inland or outbound, old channel or new channel. Sure gets your pulse going. But we’re taking it slow and stopping to look and figure things out as we go and, although we still grab the wrong channel here and there, at least we’ll be going slowly when we run aground on some shoal. Our run up the coast yesterday was rough all the way, 4-6’ seas and 20kt easterly wind pounding our starboard beam made it another day to bless the stabilizers. I had planned to run outside all the way to Cape Canaveral, about 100 miles north of here, but since the wind is going to continue at 15-20kts easterly I now intend to continue on the ICW from here north, out of the weather.

The wx is nice and warm here at Palm Beach and we are at the Peruvian dock, so named as it is at the end of Peruvian Avenue. You can guess at the names of the docks at the end of Brazilian and Australian Avenues. I was told by a cab driver today that the households of this island, Palm Beach, have an average net worth of $11,000,000. I didn’t ask how he knew because we all know that cabbies know everything, but that does explain the naming of the docks as apparently the residents here plan to buy those countries. We are having (ahem!) ‘minor’ boat issues; the AC conked out again and the tele won’t vision. However, we await the arrival of two of my new best friends, Mr. AC guy and Mr. TV guy who will, I am sure fix everything up once again. At the last marina, the very elegant and most expensive Sheraton Pier 66 in Lauderdale, they must have had a power surge or something because my 100 amp four prong power lead was too hot to handle upon disconnecting and the prongs themselves were all bronze colored from the heat and had a lot of crusty stuff on them. I cleaned them up the best I could and managed to plug into a pedestal, but was uneasy all night and arose several times to check the connection, which remained cool, fortunately. However, having in mind (1) the electrical fire at Seattle Yacht Club that destroyed Dock Two and four boats moored there, (2) that my liability coverage might buy the boat next to me but that’s about all, and (3) the compelling counsel of my pal, Thomas Wollebek, about the danger of bad connections, Isabel and I hurried off this AM to Boater Warehouse to buy a new power cord head and I anticipate that in moments I will be struggling at connecting it up. So I’m sitting here awaiting Mr. AC Guy, who has been aboard this boat many times before while it was at Marina Bay and seems pretty knowledgeable even though he has yet to actually fix the AC, and I intend to stay right here until he shows up as he is the factory guy and probably as good as I’m likely to find here in the mysterious East. Wish me luck.

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May 15, 2004 Thursday 1600
Hutchison Island--Marriott Marine Resort
27.16/80.13 -  View Pictures

The mysterious eastern Air Conditioning Guy arrived early in the morning with his helper, the boss. He had determined--as was already known to us--that there was no Freon in the A.C. system. The system was leaking they explained to us: a very astute analysis. Mysterious Easterners know how to take care of problems like this. The leaks were quickly plugged and we were at last ready to start our journey up the Intra Costal Waterway.

I had not at all minded our slight delay in Palm Beach. Palm Beach is a wonderful little city if one is in the mood to spend money and I am often in that mood. Fortunately for me we have very good friends who reside there, Joy and Jack Diesel. For two days Joy squired me up and down Worth Avenue in her BMW which had to be moved every hour because an hour of parking is all anyone is allowed on those infamous streets. Actually, half an hour is more than adequate time to seriously deplete one’s bank account. John, in the meantime, was doing his own kind of financial damage as he skirted his way from marine store to marine store picking up who knows what. Evenings we dined with the Deisels on our boat or in their home but mostly our conversation was about the same thing: remembrance of times spent together and weren’t we all so wonderful back then?

The play being for a time over, we were back to the serious business of doing the “Waterway”. As we released our lines from the Town Dock in Palm Beach I found myself mourning the loss of the uniformed dock men who had always been present in Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama, or where ever we had been . . . those guys who helped us secure and who were there to kiss us good bye. How great that was! But it appears that the day of line helpers is over. We are on our own again . . . this crew of three. I know for sure that I am going to be the operator of the bow thruster, not the leap aboard from dock to stern and then gather in the stern line person.

In the first day of traveling down the Intra Costal Waterway I have to say that it is seeming like a piece of cake. I hardly even look at the charts or the Plotter except to (infrequently) check our position. All one has to to is get headed in the right direction--in our case it would be north--and then stay between the red and green markers at least two of which are always in sight. There is, of course, the problem of a constantly shallow bottom. Staying between the markers is no guarantee that it won’t suddenly jump up and hit the belly of your boat. I know that to be a fact because already in this one day of travel the bottom has attacked us three times. Still, a mud bottom has no teeth and therefore no fear have I that it will manage to sink us. In the unlikely event that a sinking should somehow occur I think that very little swimming would be required as we could wade most of the way to any visible shore.

Once into the ICW we were almost always traveling in restricted speed zones not necessarily because of traffic or shoreline development but because this area is manatee country. The last of these huge water creatures are living in Florida and are under wild life protection. When one time we felt a single bump under the boat and saw no muddy water, I wondered if we had made acquaintance with a manatee. They are said to be very slow swimmers and the state of Florida seems not to have trained them to site the markers and stay out of the traffic.

I quite enjoyed going at a leisurely pace which we usually do anyway. And it was great to be off the chopped up Atlantic. The wind was still up, blowing at fifteen to twenty knots without let up but the water was smooth and it was warm. “Easy going” is what I would label this first day on the ICW. We had worried a bit about all of the bridges that would be blocking our way. We needn’t have. Today we crossed paths with eleven of them, seven in which an opening had to be requested. The delays were small. Some bridges open on the hour, some every half hour, and some on demand. Whatever the case we weren’t in any hurry. We are just drifting along awaiting our next adventure.

Already we have met up with at least one pirate. We weren’t particularly on guard as he was slyly disguised. With a flower in his lapel and a beautifully coifed and gowned young girl on his arm, he appeared to be a gentleman on his way to a high school prom. It was raining heavily as we spotted the two of them standing just inside of the restaurant at the end of the dock here at Marriott Marine Resort, Hutchison Island where we are moored for the evening. Suspecting nothing we entered this rather fine looking establishment, dropping off with the hostess the huge Key Bank umbrellas we had carried to protect us from the down pour. She said they would be in her safe keeping at the reservation desk. A few minutes later we looked to see that one of the umbrellas was gone. So was the young couple. Strange. We never guessed that they were pirates. We have met with our first adventure.

Until next time . . . Captain Mary Ann

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May 16, 2004 Thursday 1600
Melbourne Harbor, Melbourne -  View Pictures

At 0855 this morning we departed from our Marriott Marine Resort moorage behind Hutchison Island and whomever the pirates are that attend high school somewhere on the island. Although it was a pleasant moorage we are not sorry to be gone. It is a dangerous place. Still I cannot fault the restaurant management for the treachery that befell us in their establishment. They gave us a replacement umbrella to keep and to use on our way back to the Mary Ann. After all prom queens are not the only type of women who might be concerned with the preservation of a hair do. John, hairless as he is, may not understand this but Isabel and I also have our pride and are very appreciative of the management’s effort to assure us that our return to the boat would be with dry hair.

Through the day the wind continued to blow at the same speed as yesterday: between fifteen and twenty knots. But again the water remained fairly flat and so we were glad for the cooling effect of its blow. My only concern was speed. Running at dead slow with a lot of river current and the wind to boot, our boat is a little more difficult to maneuver than if it were whipping along at more normal speeds. Still there is what is called canal courtesy. One supposedly does not fly past a sail boat motoring along at a snail’s pace and leave him floundering about in one’s wake. At least that was my thought. So constantly I was back seat driving when John was at the helm. I pointed out every speed sign that we passed and continually brought to his attention any sail boat within sight. At last he grew weary of my constant nagging. “Please, Mary Ann. Try and keep your concerns to matters in the galley when I am on the wheel. I am following The Rules of the Road. I have broken no speed limits and I will use my own good judgment when it comes to leaving wakes”.

I felt much chastised. But I did not return to the galley. After all, I too am a captain. Not five minutes later we came upon two sail boats to our port that were anchored perhaps thirty feet from the marked waterway. Although I observed one man standing on the bow of his boat and chatting to some men on the other boat, I said nothing to John. Instead I waited to see if he would cut his speed. He did not. But all three of us--Isabel John and I-- were turned to see our wake hit the sailboats. The man who had been standing on the bow let out a yelp of surprise as he was flipped into the water backwards. At that point, as an act of courtesy, John slowed down and made sure that the fellow was pulled from the drink before he was drowned.

“So, Captain,” I said, ‘what do you now have to say about your wake and your good judgment?”

“I say the guy should have been holding on.”

Isabel and I now have a new nickname for our captain. We call him Sound Judgment John.

We are presently moored in Melbourne Harbor at the Melbourne Harbor Marina gas dock which was the only space large enough to accommodate us. There is a darling little tavern at the head of the docks where we have just been to quench our thirst with a beer and to celebrate the survival of the sail boat man. We will go back there again tonight to partake of some hamburgers.

Until next time, Captain Mary Ann

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May 17, 2004 0740
Town of Melbourne Marina, Florida
28.04.66/80.04.66 -  View Pictures

You see that these by-lines are all marinas. The reason for that is that I have been too uncertain about the depth of the water to try anchoring, and not very many other boats seem to be very confident either. The tidal swing is only one to two feet, but given the apparently uneven nature of the bottom, as indicated by my having rubbed along it several times every day, I’m concerned that we’ll awaken perched on a mud pile. We actually had to push our way into the marina at Hutchison Island although we were dead center in the marked channel. When I got to the dock the boat just stopped and sat there. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all right, the tide is coming in,” said the dock attendant. “Oh, good, then I’ll have a foot of water”, I thought. I later learned that the dock attendant had only been there six weeks and was new to the marina business, but we did find our way back out in the morning with less difficulty. There were no larger boats in the marina at Hutchison, and there are none here at Melbourne. We have not seen any boats on the ICW as large as ours and it makes you wonder whether we are in the wrong place, or where the heck they all are. Possibly, since they are all operated by professional captains and crew, they never stop for the evening, although I seriously doubt it. The marker aids are omnipresent and at least one seems to always be in sight, but they aren’t all lighted and they aren’t radar reflective so I don’t know who would run this waterway at night. So, are they running outside? The wind has been howling at 15-20 knots on the beam due east ever since we got to Florida and the seas are uncomfortable even in a stabilized boat like this one, so I don’t think many pleasure yachts are out in the ocean. Beats me, maybe too early in the season for them.

The waterway is kind of like the Sammammish Slough was before the Corps of Engineers ‘improved’ it. It meanders along with many, many branches and opportunities to get lost or stuck in the mud, through towns and cities, pastures and opulent subdivisions, not particularly crowded and not difficult to navigate. We are on paper charts primarily because the electronic charts don’t seem to have quite the right display, or maybe I’m going blind, but I cannot read the bridge information on them and bridges are a fact of life here. We pass ten or so bridges every day, although there are fewer of them as we go north, and require openings for about half of them. We are now running with our tallest antennaes folded to reduce our overall height from 40 feet to 32 feet since a good number of the bridges are 35 feet and the bridge operators are perfectly courteous and cordial. Mostly they open on demand or on the hour plus 20, 30, and 40 minutes. They aren’t nearly the nuisance I thought they would be.

We’re seeing a little wildlife here in the form of dolphins, at least I think they are dolphins although for a time I thought they might be manatees. Having never seen a manatee I didn’t know if they swam like dolphins looping out of the water or like sturgeon just sucking mud and microcosms along the bottom. As I was standing at the sink in our head this morning one swam by the window, slowly looping its’ fin out of the water, so there must be a lot of them hereabouts. The waterway is littered with ‘Protect the Manatee’ signs so if these creatures happened to be manatees then I figured that the natives must be doing a good job of protecting them. After we moored here at Melbourne I went across the street to Samora Park and in the park was a statue of a sort of walrus looking animal that might have been crossed with a grizzly bear. I thought that it looked familiar and finally caught the resemblance to my old army drill sergeant who, I assumed, must have done something heroic here and had a park named after him. On closer inspection, however, it turned out to be a statue of a manatee, which looks very little like a dolphin, but somewhat like Sergeant Samora. Melbourne is a very quiet little town that progress skipped. The stores are not only closed on Sunday, they are also closed on Mondays. That is probably to give the natives time to recover from the every Saturday night’ street dance. There is a permanent sign on Melbourne Street in the center of town advising that the block of Melbourne there is closed every Saturday night for the dance. Now isn’t that something? I wonder if we could sell something like that in our home towns?

I suppose I have to dignify Mary Ann’s lies with a comment, although I was hoping she wouldn’t bring it up (fat chance)! It is not true that I failed to slack my speed upon spotting the small sailboat, which was motionless ahead of us and had three people out on the bow talking to a guy on a Waverunner type machine. I was already going quite slowly as I approached, having seen one man apparently beckoning to me, but as I was deciphering the situation and figuring out whether I had to render assistance of some sort my small wake caught up with the sail boat, tossing the two forward folks about and catapulting the rearward guy into the air where he did a nice flip and landed on his back in the water, about an eight on a scale of ten, I thought. I was relieved when he sputtered to the surface and hauled himself back aboard because his diving didn’t exactly resemble Greg Louganis’ style, but, too, I did feel that since he was looking right at me as I approached and had signaled my attention, that he might have secured himself by hanging onto something. “Now, just look what you’ve done. You nearly killed those people,” said you know who in her most bellicose tone. I needed something, anything, in rejoinder, but the best I could come up with as I hurriedly hauled down the yacht club burgee and headed for the nearest fog bank was, “…well, he should have been hanging on.” Women just don’t understand these things!

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May 21, 2004 1550
Fernandina, Florida
30.40.028/81.28.168 -  View Pictures

I suppose that events tomorrow will prove me wrong again, but I think that either (a) we have finally gotten the bugs worked out of this boat, or (b) I have learned to fix them as they fail and before they become a nuisance. Cruising the last couple of days was a pure pleasure as we hummed along at a placid 9-10 knots burning a miserly total of 13-15 gallons of fuel per hour. The wx is quite lovely and warm with a cooling breeze coming off the ocean as you need it. The Atlantic is calm itself so we could be running outside, but with nowhere to go this processional pace is just right.

We have not been able to connect to 100 amp power much down here as the pedestals are all twin 50s and I only have one 50 amp pigtail, but by turning off the AC (which is working perfectly now with its’ new sensor) and turning off the hot water tanks (cool showers are good for a person), we have been able to keep everything running adequately using about 8kw of a usual total of 10 available (208v x 50 amps) on the average. Voltage at the marina docks is all pretty low, 195 to 209 usually, but it isn’t blowing out my power inlet relay. Since we are only getting 50 amps of low voltage instead of the 100 amps of low voltage we got in Mexico that burned up every coil I had we seem to be OK. I think we can use the 110v coils until I locate an electrician to rewire the relays to take 230v coils, which will, I am told, fix the whole problem. My crew seems to think that so long as we can get TV we have enough power so what the heck. Speaking of TV, I was on the phone with Sea-Tel for about 40 minutes the other day and the technician finally walked me through deprogramming the satellite antennae from the Bell Canada 91W satellite to Echostar 119W which gets US programming. If you’re interested, the satellite was locked on to Bell Canada when the boat was delivered in Vancouver and never could find Echostar because Echostar as 17 degrees higher up on the horizon than Bell Canada. Punching the ‘save’ button and the ‘up’ arrow seventeen times fixed it. Simple, huh?

Well, enough of my sailor/mechanic talk, the news of today is that we only hooked up with the bottom one time, a record day, although that one time I thought we were stuck to stay as great clouds of mud and dirt spoiled up out of the waterway and the engines kept dying from the struggle. But we bobbed free after a few minutes in response to my hitting the thruster to push the bow toward the sand bar and, hopefully, the stern away from it. Shortly after that narrow escape we came across a small sailboat lying on its’ side, high and dry, with an anchor line leading futilely toward deeper water while a man and woman sat calmly on the side of their cockpit watching us go by. I called to them to ask what help we could give, but they did not respond, probably tired of the same question. I couldn’t have moved them anyway without going aground myself. I can’t imagine how they got so far up on the side of the bank as there is almost no tide here. They probably wonder about that too. I have re-set the depth gauge readout to read water under the props plus two feet and it seems to provide a little extra discipline to watch the gauge when it reads 3 and 4 feet instead of 9 or 10 feet. I imagine everybody has their gauges set that way, but it was a new thought for me and seems helpful.

Guests arrived last night, daughter Shawn and my niece, Kim, both very welcome to us all. These are our first guests of a select few and they had to drive down, or up, from Orlando to catch up with us. They are not what you might call really experienced deckhands, being known more for their beauty and vivacity than seamanship, but it doesn’t matter as Isabel and Mary Ann have taken over those duties and pretty much push anyone out of the way who offers to help. Between the two of them we aren’t having any problems in doing the lines. If I could figure out how to work the aft warping winches it might be even easier. Tomorrow, maybe.

We are going to wait here in Fernandina for Pete and Carol Mondich from Corvallis, class mates of Mary Ann in her home town of Metaline Falls, WA. They are flying into Jacksonville tomorrow and hopefully will fine their way onto this island without too much trouble. Mary Ann checked it out. This island is only about an hour’s drive via Enterprise rental car and there is an Enterprise car drop off right here on the island. How small the world grows. Here we are in what seems rather off the beaten path and we aren’t the least bit remote.

That’s it for now. Things are going well here, although I have no idea how far north we may eventually get. No matter anyway as long as the ice holds out.

Addendum to Captain John’s Log

A port of call not entered on the log was St. Augustine, Florida . We arrived there on May 18th and departed on May 2lst. Since it is the oldest city in the nation and absolutely a charming place to be I think it appropriate to write a few words about our time spent there.

John, of course, saw little of the city: only the marine supply shops. I don’t know why he keeps hanging about those places as he has run out of things to fix. I think it is just that he likes to touch things . . . a security blanket type of thing. He goes away from these places feeling comfortable. Men are like that.

Isabel and I explored on foot the whole part of the historical district. We enjoyed seeing the architecturally beautiful Ponce de Leon Hotel which is now a college. The St. Augustine Hotel was also on our list of places to go. Part of the hotel was converted into a museum by Henry Flagler in the nineteenth century. Isabel and I spent a whole morning there, part of which time was spent attending a music box concert.

We came back to the boat to have lunch with John only to find that he was still gone on his tour of marine shops. So we ate and continued on our own tour without him. For the rest of that day and the whole of the next the two of us managed to take in every art gallery and antique shop in the district. Isabel who is now enjoying her new shore position, Purchase Advisor, spotted a bronze frog which we brought home to try on the cocktail table. It was perfect. An oil painting which the gallery owner brought to the boat to be tried in the master stateroom didn’t make the cut. Still, for anyone cruising the ICW, we recommend St. Augustine as a shopping stop. There is something for everyone. The girls, Shawn and Kim, who arrived on the 19th can also attest to this. They bought every shoe in town.

Speaking of Shawn, she will be a guest writer in this log. Although she is our daughter and we love her dearly we feel it only fair to warn readers that she is prone to exaggeration. Believe half of what you read.

Until next time . . . Captain Mary Ann

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May 22, 2004 1720
Fernandina, Florida
30.40.16/81.28.02 -  View Pictures

Carol and Pete Mondich arrived exactly as scheduled. Their ride by taxi from their airport hotel to the docks where we are moored took only fifteen minutes. The Mary Ann was floating in eight feet of water which we felt lucky to have as the mean low tide here is only seven feet and our clearance is six and a half feet. I was glad to see Pete and Carol arrive on a low tide because I had promised Pete that if we managed to sink the boat he could probably hold Carol by the hand and wade to shore. Having them see perhaps a hundred small boats on the inside of our dock all tied up but sitting on the mud and sand of the river probably made believers of them.

We chose this location to moor because it was close to the Jacksonville Airport and because the name of it, Fernandina on Amelia Island, had a certain romantic ring. And I read in our Waterway Guide that the town does have a colorful history, pirates and smugglers once having used it as their stronghold and rumrunners doing their thing during prohibition. So I was a bit put off when we sighted our actual destination. Actually the stench of pulp mill hit us before we saw the huge clouds of smoke rising from big grey stacks. It seemed not a very good initiation for Pete and Carol, especially since the scenery has been so very beautiful. Fortunately, it is only the waterfront that is a bit scruffy. The little town is a delight. I had explored it with the girls and Isabel--John was grocery shopping--and felt prepared to give Pete and Carol a tour. Pete got only as far as Captain Hook’s tavern before Carol and I lost him. Men are like that. Carol and I did the town. Tomorrow we depart.

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May 23, 2004 1030 Currently on the waterway

Last mate daughter Shawn -  View Pictures

I see from reviewing my father’s log that he does not consider me an expert boat person. I of course beg to differ……….I try to assist with the lines only to be pushed aside by Isabel and mom. I have boated my entire life and am accustomed to having orders screamed at me by my father. I will admit that my dad now only barks now and then and the yelling has almost ceased. However, I digress……….I only meant to point out that I am a natural hand at the lines……….given the chance.

We are now cruising down the waterway towards Georgia. It is not only fascinating from the scenery perspective but also on land. The southerners exist in their own private southern world. I am working on my southern drawl so as to fit right in with my people. My cousin Kim being a natural mimic has already perfected the drawl. We find ourselves most amusing although I don’t know if the locals think the same. We have toured St. Augustine and Amelia Island and found both to our liking as there was much shopping to be had. Kim is showing some restraint but mother continues to buy every pair of shoes she sees. They don’t really seem to be practical shoes but they look good. I have witnessed her stumbling in her new fetching shoes only once thus far. Dad rarely accompanies us as he has man things to do, I think he is very happy not to be dragged along on moms shopping expeditions.

Now and then it gets a bit dicey with this inland waterway cruising………of course this makes things interesting but I notice dad is making a lot of trips to the bathroom. We have hit bottom only once since I have been aboard but dad managed to gun the engines enough to free us from our sandy trap. I rather imagine this is bad karma on dad’s side as he had tossed a few sailors overboard while blissfully cruising by them with a full head of steam and a monstrous wake. I find this most appalling, almost as bad as his habit of throwing watermelon rinds overboard. I have tried to express my opinion only to be shut down with knowledgeable seaman type language such as, “He should have a bigger boat and then he wouldn’t capsize in my wake.” I don’t know……….it seems rather unsportsmanlike like to me but then I am not the captain. Dad has let it be known that he is not happy with my comments by leaving my cousin and I to swelter at night with no air-conditioning. His room is very comfortable as he can catch a cross breeze with several windows while Kim and I roll around in our sweat. We woke up in the a.m. to find that it was 85 degrees in our room. I told dad that even though he wasn’t concerned for our comfort that they had non-relatives coming aboard who would surely not appreciate the sauna-like conditions. We slept in a cool room last night thanks to the arrival of moms old classmates from Metaline Falls.

We now are regaled with stories about Metaline Falls. I had actually never heard of my moms club called, “The Girls of Fun”, she and her friends started it in 7th grade. The fun was centered on kissing games. Dad starts to nod off when ever Metaline Falls stories come into the picture. Perhaps he has heard them a few times, I don’t know.

May 23, 2004 (Cont.)
North River--ICW

We left the docks at Fernandina at 0700 with a very alert crew on deck. All slept well last night. John has finally consented to running the generators .

We quickly discovered that we have a good navigator aboard. Carol Mondich kept us on course for the entire day backing up John on the plotter. Kim and Pete spotted the markers. Shawn practiced her Southern drawl and I read a novel. Isabel was usually below preparing treats for all . . . delicious Strawberry Watermelon Smoothie and other delicious surprises.

The scenery changed quite dramatically a short while after we had crossed over from Florida into Georgia. The waterway became much wider as we went from river to sound and back to river again moving from one branch to another. The traffic became very sparse. We did not see one other motor yacht comparable in size to ours. Probably they are saving their bottom paint. The land was flat and full of marsh weed. The Horse Flies, millions of whom live in the area, were thrilled at our arrival. All day long they came aboard to dine . . . on us. I always felt a bit relieved when we went from a placid river way into the chopped up white capped waters of a sound. For once I did not mind getting my head blown off. The winds were too big for the Horse Flies to launch themselves into flight.

As the crow flies we went sixty miles today. Leaving Fernandina beach on Amelia Island we crossed Cumberland Sound and entered the Cumberland River continuing along that meandering body of water until we reached St. Andrews Sound. St. Andrews Sound merged with Jekyll Sound which we crossed before sliding into Jekyll Creek. Then it was onto St. Simons Sound, the McKay River, Buttermilk Sound, Little Mud River and finally into the North River where we are presently anchored.

A lightening storm added special drama to our cocktail hour. We watched it from the saloon which was cool and--more especially--off limits for horse flies. John put a BeeGee disk on the sound system, turned it up to maximum volume inside and out, and Isabel and I brought out the musical instruments that we had purchased last year in our travel through Mexico: Cymbals, Tambourines, Drum. Sticks, and Castanets. Using these instruments in accompaniment with the BeeGees the women gave a dance performance for the men. I heard no applause but there was laughter. Perhaps that is just as good. Not wishing to invite the Horse Flies, and not wishing to hurt their feelings, we dined inside where we could not be seen. Isabel had prepared King Salmon. We are finding that the George Forman grill works wonderfully which is very good for we have never replaced the one on the bridge which rusted out.

After dinner entertainment was a movie: The Calendar Girls. The girls brought it, thinking it a most amusing theme and an appropriate choice. I would like to know what is so funny about ladies over a “certain age” posing in the nude. One day everything will start to fall on them and then perhaps they won’t think it so amusing.

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May 24, 2004 On the Wilmington River
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The day is powerful hot which has even caused the multitude of bugs to collapse at our feet. I have noticed many bug carcasses on the deck when I go up top. I guess Isabel has retired to her little perch in her room and has not seen them. Speaking of Isabel……….she has made our cruise most enjoyable. Not only does she cook us many delicacies, she is working on improving my cousin Kim’s Spanish. I told Isabel that I am limited to French and so am safe from her instruction.

I don’t believe we have hit bottom today which means the day is a complete success. I am not going to count the rude gentleman on the shore who shouted at us to slow down. I believe we were hardly causing any wake so the gentleman must have had us mixed up with someone else.

We plan on docking at the Hyatt in Savannah which will be most convenient for my cousin and I. We will put on our party clothes tonight and enjoy a fine feast at the hotel, hopefully we will have time to do some exploring also. We leave tomorrow for an adventurous car trip back to Orlando.

Signing off

Savannah, Georgia
May 24, 2004 1700
32.04.93/92.05.62

We arrived here in Savannah in early afternoon after a leisurely cruise through the byways of rural tidelands Georgia. Only hit bottom once today, almost my best day, but I may be learning a little about staying afloat in that I now realize that two piloting practices are absolutely essential: (1) you must pay close attention every minute as the bottom shoals up on you in a heartbeat without warning despite what the chart says, and (2) once you see the fathometer run down to zero, or heading that way in a hurry, you have to react instantly to change your course and hope you change is the right direction. You cannot cut corners at all, not even a little, for even when you are in the exact center of where you think you should be the bottom may suddenly rise up to nab your undercarriage. Now this all sounds, I think, a bit traumatic to those of us from the northwest unaccustomed to scraping along the sea bed, but the good news is that these grounding events, so long as not too prolonged, do not seem to do any damage to the propellers other than give them a bright brassy shine. I believe that it is fair to say that the old Mary Ann has the shiniest bottom in Georgia, and certainly the prettiest shiny bottom.

The large flies have been an experience not to be savored. You may recall that back in Florida we saw many waterfront homes with very large screens covering their swimming pools and in some cases their entire back yards. We did not meet these savages until we crossed into Georgia, but they all came by to say hello and would only leave when the wind blew hard right off the Atlantic. Then, like bad luck, they returned in redoubled force. They bite like hell, right through your clothing, and everyone here is wearing only shorts and T-shirt, then buzz away for a rest while the rest of the family closes in the for kill. Not just annoying bites, but real ‘oucher’ bites. We shut the doors and windows last night at anchor and everyone killed a dozen or more inside the boat so the night was peaceful, but this morning I had good news and bad news for the crew: the bad news, the biting bugs are still here, but the good news, they have been joined in force by flying ants which do not bite. Fortunately the bugs seem to have left us for now as we move north, but I don’t think I would want to live in northern Florida or anywhere near northern Florida.

I think that I forgot to mention that I located the source of the water leak into the port bilge. It was a worn gasket on a raw water line into the port generator. I called a diesel mechanic to fix it because I could and because I wasn’t sure at that time exactly where the leak was, and he fixed it on the spot, manufacturing a new gasket out of an old shoe or something. While he was doing that I changed out the fuel filter on the starboard generator, which was hiccupping along, and suddenly I had two fully functioning generators. Today while pre-flighting the engines and gen sets I changed the fuel filter on the port generator as well, since it started muttering and stuttering last night as well. Now I know that everyone can change a fuel filter on a generator and this doesn’t sound like much of an accomplishment, but I must admit that I was tickled to fix something before it broke for once. Things are going well for us on this cruise.

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Charleston, South Carolina
May 26, 2004 2330
32.46.53/79.56.98 -  View Pictures

This turned out to be an exciting day. We left Savannah about 0830 and drifted down the not very clean Savannah River, wending our way among the major ocean going vessels making their courses upriver to the industrial port to load and unload containers. The river has been dredged to a uniform depth of 45 feet and is quite a relief in that deep water has been so rare on this trip. Sure as anything though, we left the river before it hit the ocean and were almost immediately in water that ranged from 9 feet to 00 feet on the sounder. At the 00 foot level you can feel the boat reaching around for something solid to ram into to spoil my day, but we avoided getting stuck at that moment. The terrain has changed a bit into a more attractive waterfront with shade trees and more healthy looking grass and weeds. No cattle or anything else is seen on the tide flats, they are just large plains of short grass and weeds, by and large, generally about one foot above the level of the water.

It was a lovely smooth day of cruising, as has generally been the case, but at about 1400 the alarms went off with their hair raising ‘tweedle tweedle tweedle’ tone that makes your heart jump into your throat. I finally located the source, the bow thrusters, and learned from the thruster manual that the alarm meant either high temperature of hydraulic fluid or not enough hydraulic fluid. The sight gauges showed the fluid levels full and the temps were 140 degrees, give or take, about the temp of the engines when operating. Could not shut the alarm off and couldn’t find a breaker to shut down the whole thruster system. This went on for hours until at 1830 we arrived at Charleston and were assigned to a slip in this great, new mega yacht marina. Unfortunately it was on the inside of the outer dock and up a narrow aisle in a 20 to a west side tie in a 20 knot easterly breeze that wanted to hold us off the dock. We were rigged for a starboard tie so I tried backing in … without bow thrusters. Very bad idea, very bad. The bow went east as I couldn’t hold it near the dock, the girls were dashing about pointing at the various boats I was about to crunch, and the engines were belching black smoke as I desperately maneuvered around various vessels innocently moored within my striking range. It was a truly hairy experience, but by a sheer miracle we avoided smacking anybody and escaped the aisle after having done a 360 degree turn in what looked like an 80 foot space with a 90 foot boat. I was petrified when it was over. A very near thing not to have done bumper boats within this marina. I guess it was a pretty dumb thing to try to do with no thrusters, but luck was with us again and we escaped to the cocktail hour unscathed. Tomorrow I am going to find an electrician to coordinate with the thruster manufacturer to find out what is wrong with them. Hopefully it won’t be a big deal to fix

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Charleston City Marina
May 27, 2004
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And it isn’t a big thing to fix! It has yet to be conclusively demonstrated, but it looks like the problem with the thrusters is not just confined to the thrusters; it applies to the entire hydraulic system. Apparently the hydraulic fluid is overheating because I have been keeping the hydraulic system activated all of the time instead of only when needed. Thus the fluid is circulating and heats up all of the time when we are underway and is not adequately cooled by the raw water heat exchanger system because (a) the raw water is 140 degrees by the time it gets to the cooling pump, and (b) the raw water in the ocean temperature here is 81 degrees. In other words we are trying to cool the 140 degree hydraulic fluid with what is 140 degree water by the time it reaches the heat exchanger. The alarm sounds at 160 degrees. We would be OK, apparently, if the system was not activated other than when demand was made on the various components of the system; thrusters, capstan, windlass, davit, and fire pump. I don’t recall that any one ever told me that and my practice has always been to turn on the hydraulics whenever I start the boat up and leave them on until I park. So my problem, like so many others, is operator error. We ran all the way from Seattle with the same error, but here in the warm ambient water it has caught up with me. Interesting, but I was glad to learn about the system and how it works. A worthwhile lesson, although it took 8 ½ hours in the 106 degree engine room today for it all to soak in and make sense. I thought that the system was demand actuated, if, indeed, I ever thought about it at all, which is debatable. Well, at least the girls think I’m smart.

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Saturday, May 29, 2004
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
33.33.73/79.05.17 2030 -  View Pictures

Well, I sure thought I was smart. Today I started up about 0800 from Charleston, making it a point not to engage the thruster hydraulic system, and headed up the ICW for whatever place we happened to be when I felt like stopping, confident that the hydraulic fluid would behave and stay cool, say about 110 degrees. After an hour it was 120 degrees, then another hour to 130 degrees, by the time we got here it was 160 degrees and the alarm was tweedling again so we had to moor the boat the old fashioned way, with deck hands and dock boys, but otherwise without incident. I called the manufacturer again, who said, again, that it wasn’t acting like it was getting raw water cooling to the fluid heat exchanger. So now what do I do? I need the hydraulic system for anchoring, lowering boats, putting out fires, and mooring but I don’t dare run it with the hydraulic fluid so hot for fear the hot liquid will burn up the seals in the various motors that drive the devices, even if it would operate in alarm mode, which it won’t. I can more or less trace the hydraulic fluid to the pump, and it’s hot all the way, but I can’t locate the raw water pump that is supposed to provide cool water to the heat exchanger. I think it goes to the engine raw water cooling pump, but I can’t find any line running to the hydraulic fluid heat exchanger. So my problem with this system isn’t operator error as I thought, it is just the usual ineptitude that I always use to master this beast of a boat. Tomorrow I’ll figure it out for sure.

There were a number of boats on the ICW today, the first day of a long weekend. Many were stuffed with little kids with Dads and Moms out for a boat ride so we had to go dead slow innumerable times to avoid swamping their little boats and killing anyone’s children. There were also a great number of bugs of various sizes, shapes and appetites finally getting to a point where we had to retreat inside before we were overwhelmed, although Isabel and I must have killed over a hundred before we gave up. While we were busily engaged in swatting and swearing we were temporarily passed by a boat whose owners we had met and had aboard for a drink back at Hutchison Island. Our friends were gaily waving and taking photos of us as they hurried past. I say temporarily passed because a few miles later we heard the Coast Guard blathering something about an overturned Boston Whaler and somebody in the water and, you know the mantra, “… all mariners in the area are requested to keep a lookout for xxx and render assistance as required,” (and let the CG know if you find out what is going on.) As you can tell, I’m not a very big fan of the Coast Guard, but anyway a short distance later we hear Jubilee confessing to the CG that, indeed, they caused the wake that flipped the Whaler over, but (honest injun, you guys) there was no one aboard the Whaler when they swamped it and they were standing by to render assistance and, presumably, waiting for someone to come with the cuffs and haul them off to the pokey or something. The guy who apparently owned the Whaler by this time has found a radio and is demanding that somebody do something about his overturned boat, which we slid by a minute later at slow bell and saw it partially up on the dock and sort of partially hanging in the water. We took some pictures and kept on going to avoid the anticipated police convention at the site, but we all noted that our friends from Hutchison Island were nowhere to be seen on their boat, although they had been much in evidence, waving and calling greetings, when first they passed us. I don’t blame them for hiding out, but I did take note that they had a professional captain aboard driving which made me feel a little less guilty about the sailor whom I helped practice his diving a week or so ago. I am learning that they are pretty tough on wake causers down here, doubtless because the waterways are so narrow and shallow, but it seems to me that you have to be a pretty dull fellow to leave your boat in the water tied to your dock, wake laws or not. Nearly everyone raises their small boat up out of the water on hoists when not in use here so their problem with wakes is serious, and therefore they are serious. Later in the day, much later, Jubilee passed us again, our friends still not waving hello or goodbye.

Pete and Carol Mondich left yesterday at Charleston, having had their fill, no doubt, of our boating misadventures. They were great guests and Carol was a stellar navigator, spending entire days on the fly bridge marking our course in the book of paper charts that we are using every minute. Both the electronic charts and the paper charts are little bits of the area and the electronic charts, even when enlarged to cover more area, still don’t usefully tell you where you are, so we follow along closely on the paper charts and mark our progress with a highliter. The water depth up to this point, the Waccamaw River, has been very spare and great caution is necessary. A couple on an adjacent boat here took the trouble to warn us about two upcoming spots called Rock Garden One and Two, that require close attention, and then advised us to go five miles out in the Atlantic at Little River Inlet to avoid something called Follett’s Folly which, they say, is almost impassable. They report that they never see bigger boats like ours on the ICW. Isn’t this sounding interesting? What am I doing here playing electrician/plumber/mechanic and driving my lovely boat through places called “Rock Garden”? Actually, it’s quite a fun trip so far.

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Sunday, May 30, 2004
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
33.33.73/79.05.17 1140 -  View Pictures

Our engines have been running on idle for the past two hours as we sit here still moored to the outside dock at Wacca Wache Marina where we came in late yesterday afternoon. Captain John has a new theory about why the hydraulic fluid is overheating. So having consulted with the second captain, cook, first mate, and crew--that would be Isabel and me---the decision has been made to open up some valves. These two valves have always been closed and seem to have remained a mystery as to their function, not just to us who live aboard but to all of the mechanics who have worked on this boat. The way I figure it, when you open up something that has always been closed it could turn out to be a Pandora’s Box. I would rather open up Pandora’s Box while tied safely to the dock.

1230 We are good to go. Captain John may have proved his theory correct. Having just taken the temperature of the hydraulic lines he finds them holding steady at 125 degrees. That is down 15 degrees from the temperature reading taken when the valves were closed. Now we have only to wait for the tides.

1250 Another new friend for Captain John. The dock master has just brought a mechanic to the boat and the three of them have disappeared into the engine room, presumably to check out Captain John’s theory about the mysterious valves.

1260 The mechanic--this one is named Tim--thinks that John has a very feasible theory. We are ignoring the fact that this mechanic works mainly on cars. A mechanic is a mechanic. Correct? We are still good to go when the tide is right.

1340 We are not good to go. A plane has gone down at Barefoot Landing which is just north of us. Three persons have been pulled from the water and sent to the hospital. The Coast Guard continues to look for a fourth missing person. The Waterway is clogged with search boats and closed to traffic.

1400 Burgers and dogs are being served at the Wacca Wache Cook Out on shore. The crew captains and crew have made a unanimous decision to attend and to have the dogs. We had burgers last night.

1500 We have returned from the Wacca Wache Cook Out. Lunch for three which included two dogs, one burger, and three pops was five dollars fifty cents. Had Captain John not changed his mind, choosing to have a burger instead of a dog, the lunch would have cost only four dollars fifty cents. While on shore we made some new friends who have invited us to a “Shag” party. Although we have no idea what a “Shag” is we have accepted their kind invitation. It could prove to be yet another adventure, this “Shag” thing.

1730 Our new friends Ed and Becky Sabo on the Summer Place II and their guests, Neda and Robin Loud come aboard for pre “Shag” cocktails.

1830 We depart for dinner and the “Shag” party.

2300 BED TIME REPORT: Ed and Becky showed us the town which is a few miles away from the marina. It is quite lovely in its water setting. We walked on boardwalks to their favorite restaurant where we enjoyed some elegant southern cuisine and then adjourned to the Shag. The Shag as it turns out is a dance but not a line dance as we suspected it might be. It is a tricky little set of steps invented, so Becky tells me, by the people of South Carolina. The evening’s adventure was to learn the steps.

As I end today’s log I am hearing on Coast Guard Radio that our route on the Waterway remains closed and still blocked by plane wreckage. Surely it will be open by tomorrow morning.

Until next time . . . Captain Mary Ann

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Monday May 31, 2004 Memorial Day
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
33.33.73/79.05.17 1340 -  View Pictures

We are going nowhere. The Waterway remains closed. A severe thunderstorm watch has been broadcast and the weather channel advised that tornados often accompany such storms and people in the area (that would be us) should be alert to any change in present conditions and listen for future updates on weather conditions. Earlier this morning a 60 foot Hatteras, only a few miles from us on the Atlantic, was reported “mostly submerged when last seen”. Now it is no longer seen and boats are advised to transit that Lat./Lon. with extreme care.

1420 The latest marine forecast advises vessels presently on the water to seek harbor and to those already in a harbor: “Stay there1” Wacca Wache Marina is looking better and better. A big honker of a boat--the largest we have seen on the Waterway--has just bow thrusted its way into the only space left on our dock and is hanging over the end by about ten feet. We may be here forever which is not all that bad. I like this marina and all of the people that we have met here. My only concern is that we may be advised to take shelter in our basement. That would be Davy Jones’ Locker.

Until next time . . . Captain Mary Ann

Monday, May 31, 2004
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
1930 hours -  View Pictures

This part of the river, or waterway, may be jinxed! The day before yesterday a 4 seat Cessna crashed into the waterway about fifteen miles north of us. Three people hospitalized, pilot dead. Waterway closed until Wednesday, according the CG’ best guess, while they drag the plane from where we are told it is blocking the waterway. Then today the CG advised us that a 60 foot Hatteras sunk offshore a little distance and that their last report was that the vessel could be seen sinking beneath the waves. No report on casualties on that one. Next, today we had one of those “… we interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special message…” type VHF radio calls as the wx service came on with a ‘Severe Thunderstorm Alert’ for exactly this area warning us of 70 knot winds, hail balls 1.5” in diameter, and a possible tornado, all of this to occur by 1800 hours, if at all. It apparently skipped us, but that is a little too much action for me. Where we are at Wacca Wache Marina is very pleasant, but I’m not so sure about all of these incidents.

Rather than stay here another day and await the possibility that the ICW will re-open Wednesday as the CG speculates, I’m going to go back south to Georgetown tomorrow, hole up there overnight, and then run the Atlantic about 5-10 miles offshore up to Cape Fear. It’s about 90 miles so I want to get started early enough not to have to run in the dark as the water, even way the heck offshore, is still pretty shallow, shoaling up to ten feet here and there. It will at least give us a chance to use our plotter and lay a course/route to follow. We haven’t done any charting on this trip because on the ICW all you have to do is follow the markers, which are almost all placed within sight of each other. The only trick, other than avoiding grounding, is to remember to keep the green marks on the right (except when you are crossing an ocean inlet in which case it switches for an indeterminate distance). We are so accustomed to the ‘red, right, returning’ rule, however, that often I get confused even so.

So far, so good on boat things. Nothing is broken down at the moment and actually everything seems to be working pretty well. Don’t know how my trick of opening the cooling pump discharge line valves is going to work because I don’t understand the pump at all, but for some reason I’m optimistic. The biggest things that I need to work on are the sonar and the single sideband radio. I don’t seem to be able to work either of them well enough to be useful, although I am told by electronics people that both are working perfectly. Perhaps the next set of guests can figure them out. I really would like to have the sonar working. I now remember the salesperson for the sonar telling Gary Etchells and I that practically none of the recreational cruiser owners know how to work this equipment. It’s simply amazing how many people are surprised that all we have aboard is, as Mary Ann puts it, “…one old man, two old women, and the sea.” The ladies are doing a better job all of the time with the lines though,so we aren’t particularly handicapped. If we do run short of manpower we can always drop by some nursing home and recruit someone.

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