Log of the QT - Stuart to Miami

1/23-30/98

The Intra Coastal Waterway was our home in the ‘70’s while we lived aboard.  We seasonally cruised the waters between the Chesapeake and Miami, spending the hurricane seasons in Beaufort NC and eventually following the sun as far south as the Caribbean.  Fond memories of  experiences on the Florida ICW had me perpetually making plans to return.   We’d owned a trawler for awhile, berthed in Washington NC, but never had the time to get her any farther south than Charleston SC.  The overhead associated with owning a 35’ boat which was kept 350 miles from home became overwhelming and we sold her.  It took 2 years to find a suitable replacement; a boat my wife, daughter and I could spend weekends aboard, one that could take us back to all the places we’d been and also take us to the places we’d missed.  QT is a 15’11" cuddy, sporting a porta-potty, 14 gallon fresh water tank and canvas camper back, pushed by a Honda 50.  She’s the most fun, care-free boat I’ve owned and is my ticket to rekindling all those memories of the ICW.

I am going into the third year of boating with QT - the first year was spent mainly trying to get the new Yamaha outboard to work properly.  After months and months in 5 different Yamaha shops trying unsuccessfully to get the warranty work done, I traded for a Honda and began to enjoy boating again. I had my Florida ICW trip on the back burner while outfitting/customizing my little boat between long weekends aboard.  I did do a couple week long cruises in Florida on QT, to see a shuttle go up from the Banana River, and again to watch a Pensacola Blue Angles air show from the Gulf, before the Southern Florida ICW cruise became a priority.

The plan was to put in around Daytona and head south down the ICW.  Major points of interest were Lake Boca where we lived/worked on the hook for several months in the 70’s, the New River and associated sights in the Lauderdale area that were ‘off limits’ to our sailboat’s 4’ draft and 35’ mast, and No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne where we’d spent layovers waiting for weather to jump the stream to the Bahamas.

It wasn’t until I actually was preparing to launch at the Daytona Municipal Marina, looking at the Manatee signs, that I remembered all the restrictions I’d come across on a trip up the St. Johns River from DeLand to Lake George.  I also remembered getting busted by the water Sheriff for going 5 ½ in what he suggested was a 4.  I decided I’d head farther south to put in.  I meandered down A1A and US1, stopping at marine stores asking about nice ramps where I could leave my truck/trailer for a couple days.  I’m not sure why, but no one offered an enthusiastic response – most would just grunt instructions to a local ramp which they would offer little to no information about.  About the time I got to Stuart, I couldn’t hold off any longer and headed for the nearest ramp.  I was very fortunate to stumble on a state park at Manatee Pocket that had first class facilities.  I put in (no charge for the ramp) and headed south down the ICW.

I headed S-L-O-W-L-Y south would be a better description.  Given free reign, I’ll usually put her on about 20 mph – just a little past where she gets on a plane, slowing to +/- 8mph in interesting areas, and bringing her down to 4 mph or so when courtesy dictates.  According to my GPS trip computer, the restrictions imposed to keep the Manatee safe were limiting my average speed to significantly less than 8 mph.  None the less, I continued south, determined to revisit Hobe Sound as well as all those interesting boating facilities on Lake Worth.  All in all it was a very enjoyable run to Lake Boca where I hooked out for the night, but the Manatee had put a cramp in my schedule.  I decided I’d head back to the Pocket, take the boat out and trailer it closer to Miami, otherwise I’d run out of time.

On the trip back up, I was more familiar with the Manatee rules; No Wake vs. Slow Speed/Minimum Wake and Channel Exempt vs. Channel Included, and knew about how long the restrictions would apply, so I could pay more attention to the surroundings than to the qualifications to avoid getting busted  in restricted areas.  I also began to use the speed restricted portions of the ICW to fix snacks or meals and get things done that required minimum helm attention.

As I approached the ramp back at the Pocket, I realized that I wasn’t ready to put the boat back on the trailer so I spent a couple hours exploring the pocket.  Still not ready to call it quits for the day, I headed toward the St. Lucie Canal that takes one on to Lake Okeechobee.  Once past the open waters of the St. Lucie River, I throttled her back to a high idle and meandered down the canal.  I particularly enjoyed the serenity of the canal; the silent operation of the Honda allows one to soak up all the natural sounds along the banks, and being a four stroke, there’s no intrusive TCW3 oil smell..

Unless I have specific plans on the other side, I hesitate to make a lock passage.  In this case, as I approached the lock, I weighed the advantages of locking through vs. just settling in for the night.  It was Superbowl Sunday, and I decided to hook out and tune in the game.  I found a secluded spot, dropped the hook and before I found the game on the radio, the mosquitoes found me.  I climbed into the cuddy, closed out the bugs, opened some Cheetos and enjoyed the best Superbowl game in years -- on a scratchy AM radio station...

As is often the case while at anchor, I was up way before dawn.  I’ve added a new dimension to boating with the GPS.  Mine makes a bread crumb trail of where I’ve been.  On a nice night, I may use this trail to get out and around before the sun comes up.  This was one of those occasions.  I put the water on for coffee, pulled in the hook and leisurely made my way in the dark back toward Manatee Pocket.  Things look different in the dark, a new view/perspective of the area.  Sipping coffee and loping along the water into the sunrise; it doesn’t get any better…

I put her back on the trailer about 7am and took US1/A1A south, not knowing exactly where I’d end up putting back in.  I decided a spot half way between Lauderdale and Miami would be nice, so I started getting serious about finding a ramp near Hallandale.  I enjoy the sights along A1A but when a public ramp turned up at Sunny Isles just north of Bakers Haulover, I couldn’t resist putting in, especially when the folks at the Marina there said there was no problem leaving the truck and trailer overnight.

I anxiously looked forward to revisiting No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne, but the Manatee signs again dictated a slow pace.  I used much more of the daylight than I had planned, slowly making my way south down Biscayne Bay.  The sights had drastically changed since I’d been through in the 70’s, but I began to get nostalgic as I entered the open water past the Rickenbacker Causeway.  I remembered the nervousness and excitement my wife and I felt 25 years ago at the same spot in anticipation of our first crossing of the Gulf Stream on our way to the Bahamas aboard our 27’ sloop.

Relying on my memory from the ’73 trip, I swept around the southeast end of Key Biscayne and peered ashore for the entrance to No Name.  My depth sounder alarm was set at 4 feet but by the time it started sounding the boat had almost ground to a standstill on a sand bar.  I wasn’t the first to have this experience as the area was full of bald furrows angling across the grassy shallows in every direction.  I tilted the Honda almost out of the water, gave the bottom a couple nudges with my boat hook and idled back into deeper water.  I resigned myself to putting the coordinates of the harbor entrance in the GPS, did a GOTO, and made a straight shot into No Name.

The entrance to No Name bore more Manatee signs, along with a notice that it now cost $10 plus tax to anchor overnight, or there was a $2 charge for day only use.  I wove an idle course in and out of the 6 boats anchored inside, stopping near one to ask the skipper if the harbormaster really stopped by to collect the fee.  I was assured that the fee would be collected.  It didn’t appear that there were any services offered for the $10…I didn’t even see any facilities ashore.  I dodged a manatee on my way out and because the seas were so friendly I anchored on the sand bar about a mile offshore where I had previously run aground.

I ducked into the cuddy for a nap, but after a short while I was awakened by the roar of one jet after another as the evening traffic in and out of the Miami airport regularly passed overhead.   I unhooked and spent some time exploring Hurricane Harbor and some other shallow channels into the island.  I would soon need to pick a spot to spend the night, but with the parade of jets overhead, I couldn’t get excited about the area.  I finally decided I’d keep poking about Key Biscayne until sundown, then head back north.

With the lights of Miami against the night background, I was guided back across Biscayne Bay to the ICW by the GPS bread crumbs.  I kept her at about 8 mph as I knew the greatest danger in following the GPS track is that it can/does get one uncomfortably close to (unlighted) markers.  The GPS also showed me that I needed to crab against the wind and current to hit my Miami mark.  Once I made Miami, I would run the ICW north until I felt like turning in – there would be no shortages of places to hook out along the way.

I dodged scores of small fishing boats in the dark waters between Venetian and Broad Causeways, finally ready to find a quiet anchorage as I passed Bakers Haulover.  There’s a sprawling cove just north of MM 1080; I anchored in the cozy hook at the south end and turned in.  About an hour later, at 1:30am I was awakened by loud crude voices on the bank; it sounded like 5 or 6 guys wondering how they could get out to that little boat anchored just off the shore.  I monitored their boisterous conversations until I was comfortable that I was beyond their reach, and settled back in.  Their ‘partying’ woke me up 2 or 3 more times before it got quiet enough to sleep the night out.

The next morning I continued north, again complying with the Manatee signs.  It sometimes appears that the Manatee like to hang out in high rent districts – the bigger the houses on shore, the more apt one is to have Manatee (or at least Manatee restrictions?).   I suppose all these Florida water craft restrictions are for the best, but it takes some getting used to.  It could have been worse.  I imagined myself at "Idle Speed No Wake" (4 mph?) on a sweltering hot day with mosquitoes, no-see-ums and green headed flies having me for lunch…

There’s a new addition to the waterway in the Dania area.  It’s a gambling casino posing as a catamaran, with a footprint the size of a football field.  I could have easily motored cleanly between the two hulls.  I wondered how they would get that beast through the A1A bridge to get out to open water. I was favored to witness the event on my return trip when this floating building swung in behind me from Port Everglades.  I put QT in about 4 feet of water at the channels edge and watched this mammoth rig not only successfully navigate the bridge, but also come to a stop and slide sideways up to it’s dock.  And to think I often have trouble getting my boat back on the trailer.

If you’re into boating at all, ya gotta love Lauderdale.  I checked out all the marinas in the adjacent waters, did an idle by at Las Olas where we’d spent several days on a mooring in ’73 and then headed up the New River.  The New River was too complicated to mess with when we were on the sailboat, but QT is the perfect vehicle to use to see the sights. I didn’t have charts for the New River, but that didn’t appear to be a problem and I suppose there were SLOW, NO WAKE and MANITEE signs along the way but I had planned to make this leg at 5 mph or less so I didn’t pay attention to the signs.  There’s so much to see; boats of every kind and nature, tied one behind the other for miles along the banks.  Boat yards, bridges, estates, water taxis, tour boats, folks along the shores …

I don’t usually have to worry about bridges as I only need about 6’ of vertical clearance, but there was a low railroad bridge down with a work crew grinding and welding away.  I wanted to check on my bridge opening protocol so I did a 180 to regroup and was immediately met by The Jungle Queen heading up river.  I grabbed the nearest piling and waited for this monster tour boat to pass, then fell in behind her as the railroad bridge made her a hole.  I wondered how a boat any larger than mine would negotiate a confrontation with this Jungle Queen, as she only leaves a couple feet clearance to the boats moored on each side along the river, and less clearance at the bridge.

Continuing north up the New River, I came on the North Fork/South Fork junction.  Not having a plan, I followed the wake of a boat that was taking the North Fork.  As I rounded the first turn, there was another low (highway) bridge, and the boater in front of me was shaking his fist at the couple walking out on the bridge.  I didn’t hear the specifics, but I guess the captain felt the bridgetender could have opened sooner – the wait couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes.  I followed the boat through the opened bridge.

I headed north for another ½ hr or so, until I ran out of water, then did a 180.  I don’t like to blow my horn, especially in a residential neighborhood, so as I approached the low highway bridge I dug out my handheld VHF and turned it on.  I could hear a lot of chatter between irate boaters and the various bridgetenders in the Lauderdale area who were following/explaining the rules.  There was one lady who couldn’t get a bridge to open, only to have her husband take over transmission suggesting that his wife was confused and was hailing the wrong bridge.  When I got close enough, I could read the sign, "Bridgetender monitors VHF 9", but nowhere did I see the name of the bridge and not having a chart I wasn’t willing to hash out the name of the crossing while on the radio.  I drifted for about 10 minutes while making a sandwich, but finally blew the horn.  The bridgetending couple immediately appeared, confirmed by voice that I wanted passage and opened the bridge.  When I returned to the North Fork/South Fork "Y", I took the South Fork.  The South fork was just as enjoyable as the North Fork.  It’s quite a bit farther on the South fork until you run out of water, and actually I ended up at a row of buoys that forbade further navigation.  I didn’t go any faster on the return that I did on the way up – there’s so much to see.

As I returned to the ‘congested’ area of bridges and boats, I turned on the VHF to get a feel for whether the railroad bridge would be open or not.  The first thing I heard was the Jungle Queen advising all boats in the New River that she was headed upstream, approaching the bridge and advised anyone navigating in the area to take appropriate measures.  So that’s how it was done when there’s room for only one in the channel – call ahead for clearance!  I pulled over into a pocket between two moored boats and waited until she passed.  She was immediately followed by several boats who had no way of getting around her in the narrow stretch. 

I spent quite some time in and around Port Everglades watching the freighters and liners come and go.  Then I checked out a recreation area that has an entrance on the east side of Dania Sound and runs parallel to the ICW for about a quarter mile in protected waters.  There’s a ramp at the entrance and a small water sports shop with rentals up inside.  The water is pretty shallow, but it would be a nice place to spend the day with the family. 

After observing the previously mentioned casino clear the bridge and tie up, I headed back to the ramp at Sunny Isles, obediently complying with the restrictions on the ubiquitous signs along the way.  I put QT back on her trailer and headed north on I95 to meet up with some fellow Interneters. 

To me, A1A is fun to travel.  Sure, it’s stop and go, but you'll find beaches, water, boats and related businesses.  It’s a recreational destination.  If you’re on A1A, you’re most likely pretty close to where you’re going.  If you take US1 up or down the coast, you’re apt to be heading somewhere else vs. the A1A folks that are pretty much where they want to be.  Drivers on US1 are in more of a hurry and are much more impatient than the A1A drivers.  Now you try I95 and LOOK OUT!  No one wants to be where they are on I95 between  West Palm and Miami…it’s every man for himself…spare no patience or courtesy!  I won’t do I95 again in that area, I’ll gladly pay the tolls. 

My next port would have been Merritt Island, to visit the first of 3 fellows I met at rec.boats Newsgroup on the Internet.  I would have arrived too late though, so I headed up to Daytona to check out a boating store called Blue Water Boats.  Bill Grannis, the service manager there, had e-mailed me some pointers on getting my Yamaha warranty work done and he’d also encouraged me to see the St. Johns River (which I had done on a previous Florida adventure).  The wind was blowing between 20 and 30, but I easily launched at the Municipal Marina and spent the morning checking out marinas and water sights from Ormand to Ponce Inlet.  I put QT back on the trailer late in the morning, then stopped by to thank Bill for his help and recommendations.  Bill was very busy and could only spare a minute or two away from his service department.

I then headed south, back to Merritt Island to get up with Paul Kruse (Jr.).  I was dying to see how his home built, 60 foot, power catamaran was coming along.  As he showed me the first of what would be many sections of his cargo/fishing cat. Paul bubbled with ideas, facts and techniques about the construction and uses for his custom rig.  Paul’s son, Paul III, is a partner in the undertaking and will be part of the crew when the cat goes to sea. 

After all my oohs and aahs had subsided and my questions had been answered at the driveway construction site, we decided to continue the conversation aboard QT for a night run out of Port Canaveral.  Again, Paul was a wealth of knowledge about the area and related businesses.  I never felt the need to pull out the chart as he piloted us through the night into the Atlantic.  We enjoyed a pleasant run south beyond Cocoa Beach before deciding to return. 

To me, Paul’s project is monumental - build a 60 foot catamaran in your yard?  Still, dreams are the nourishment of life, and Paul is an inspiration for us to believe in and follow our own dreams.

My next stop was Jacksonville. Bill Sheffield, of American Marine in Jacksonville, and I have swapped e-mail as a result of some posts on rec.boats and while I have never really needed the services of a Honda outboard dealer (except to buy one), I figured I’d stop by  and say "Hello".  Bill not only sells Hondas, he also builds and sells (Honda powered) Shoal Cats from 8 to 22 feet – he says his 17’ Shoal Cat will do 45mph with a Honda 75.  Maybe next time I can get him to take me out for a spin.  After Bill leisurely showed me his yard, we shared boating experiences.

The 500 mile trip back in the truck gave me time to reflect.  South East Florida has changed quite a bit since I was last there; the manatee have taken over and there’s much more boat and highway traffic, still it’s a great place to be on the water and provides a marine environment you’ll not find anywhere else.  It also made me appreciate the freedom, serenity and variety I tend to take for granted in my coastal Carolina waters.  Another thought crossed my mind on the way home – it’s ironic, but then again not so surprising after my own personal experience, that the Yamaha service guy was so busy, and the Honda guy had time to show me around.

Total Trip - combined miles = 2,029

Water miles = 355

Engine hours = 41.5

Boat fuel = 45 gallons

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Trailer Boating In The Rain

Charleston/Georgetown 11/24-25/00

I got away from work about 1pm Friday. I splashed just before dark at Wapoo Cut in Charleston, SC on the ICW.

The weather was a little windy, but warm. I spent the next 3 hours cruising the area looking at boats (and knocking a couple back), and then turned in to anchor in front of the City Marina.

The wind picked up at about 3am; the change in motion awakened me and I went out into the cockpit for a look around. Even with the wind, it was still warm. I brought the anchor aboard and toured the 3 nearby marinas - had to keep it slow because it was pitch black - no moon. I'd finished my tour and was venturing into the harbor, rounding the battery when I felt a raindrop. I headed back to the ramp and had the boat on the trailer before the rain finally came, but it was only a light rain.

I drove to the Battery and parked for about 45 mins. - got out of the truck for a spell when the rain let up, to just peer into the windy darkness of the harbor. Whitecaps could be seen, blowing and dancing in the glow from the lights ashore. I then drove to Folly Beach for a look around. It's tough to take time out to do these things if the weather is nice, because the only thing on my mind then is to get out on the water. This was an excellent opportunity to spend some time ashore, visiting the places I usually frequent only from the water. There wasn't a bit of traffic on the roads in these early morning hours; I enjoyed driving at my own pace, sometimes as slow as 5 or 10 mph, smiling every time I looked in the rear view mirror to see my boat right behind me. It's nice having her along even if we aren't on the water.

Had breakfast at Waffle House on the causeway with 20 or so other

early birds, then parked in front of WalMart and slept aboard until they opened. I had to lengthen the trailer wiring because the new receiver put the trailer back so far that a sharp right turn would pull the plug on the trailer lights.

I left Charleston about 10am for the 60 mile drive to Georgetown. The drive to Georgetown was very pleasant despite the intermittent rain. As I got to G'town proper, the sun came out so I spent some time in town and on the boardwalk before heading to the ramp. The anchorage was full of transients; I love just looking at boats, especially since these boats brought back vivid memories of the many pleasant trips my wife and I had made up and down the ICW when we lived aboard our 27' sloop in the 70's. I could see US out in that harbor over 20+ years ago, with 600 miles of glorious ICW to go to get to Miami, then another 60 miles to make landfall in the Bahamas. I have to be satisfied retracing that path in small sections these days because of work, but I look forward to one day being able to again spend as much time as I want on the ICW.

As I got out of the truck at the ramp to launch the rain returned, so I decided not to splash. I went back to town and dawdled for a spell, poking about the salty shops and wishing the transient boats a final farewell, then leisurely headed back to the interstate for the 175 mile run home, stopping at a few boat stores along the way.

The adventure hadn't been all fair weather and it hadn't been all on the water, but it sure was peaceful and satisfying - I got my 'boating battery' charged enough to last me until next weekend.

I got back home late Saturday -- so I could spend Sunday with my girls.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Extremely happy owner of:

Ficht 115 pushing the Seaswirl 1850 W/A

"NICKY"

Our European 'Cruise'

I don’t remember the date on this but I know it was over 10 years ago (from 2012). I’m blogging it because I found it on a drive that I recently partially recovered and thought I’d like to keep it around.

~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve recently returned from a week on a houseboat/trawler in Venice. One might consider the equipment list interesting.

For instance:

There was no compass.

There was no depth sounder.

There was no VHF.

There was no fuel gauge.

There was no generator.

The refrigerator was 12 volt - the motor had to be run a minimum of 4 hrs/day to keep the batteries up.

There were two, ½” well worn poly mooring lines (and one spare somewhere we were told)..

There was one anchor, but we were told not to use it - no windlass.

There were 3 massive rub rails around the entire boat inlaid with stainless, and there were also diagonal ‘bumpers’ (of the same construction) at the bow from the upper rub rail to the waterline, and another at the stem.

The boat also had a sunroof over the main cabin, which slid back into the top so the main cabin was open to the outside air from above.

There was no drive shaft on the end of the 40HP diesel - hydraulic drive.  The boat had been retrofitted with this smaller diesel - we were told it was because a license was required to operate a boat with a motor over 40 HP. She once hit 7 mph according to my GPS.

There WAS a bow thruster, probably because it was a necessity. It was also hydraulic.

There was a box under a berth at the stern that was open to the sea below and extended up above the waterline; it had a watertight lid fastened on with wingnuts. One could remove the top of the box and reach down through it to clear a tangled prop without otherwise going into the water. I know because I watched the fellow from the agency pull a 20’ fishing net up through the box, that had fouled the prop before we were taken out on our ‘instructional’ cruise.

On Wednesday September 6^th, we flew from out our local airport in Spartanburg to Washington Dulles. We arrived in time to be waiting at the gate when my sister Natalie and her George arrived from Hawaii. From there, the four of us went nonstop to London, spent Thursday night in town and toured the next day. Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey. Yes there’s a lot of history, architecture and pomp, but has anyone been to Harrods? Took a river cruise: Cleopatra’s Needle, St Pauls, London Bridge (#3), Tower of London, and in Greenwich -- Gypsy Moth, Cutty Sark and the Old Royal Observatory where I watched my GPS go to 000 00.000

On Friday we took the Eurostar from London to Paris. My wife asked me how fast we were going. From the feel of the ride I guessed 70 or 80 mph. I got out the GPS and it was clocking us at over 190 mph. Spent one night in Paris at a hotel within walking distance of the train. The rooms were very small; couldn’t get my wife’s wheelchair in the tiny lift (elevator) but it didn’t matter much as the lift stopped on the stairway between the first and second floor.

On Saturday, we cabbed to the Charles DeGaul airport and took an Alitalia flight to Venice. Cabbed again from the Venice airport to Chioggia. Chioggia was very festive and colorful - it is the kind of place I expected Venice to be from pictures and reading I’d done. There were brightly painted houses and boats, beautiful canals and bridges, street vendors and souvenir stands. The four of us stayed at a first class 2-bedroom suite in hotel in town. We had unforgettable fish soup for dinner. To me it wasn’t soup; it was an aquarium that had been warmed up – there where whole shrimp, squid, mussels and more in that bowl.

We walked to the boat the next day. There was no building associated with the dock, only about 8 slips for the charter fleet. We were greeted by Marcelo. It took about 2 hours for him to complete all paperwork and familiarize us with the boat – his final duty was to take us out for a brief demo ride; that’s when we discovered the net wrapped around the propeller. Formalities and demo ride completed; we were on our way with several hours of sun left.

We spent the first night aboard about 15 miles north of Chioggia, in S. Piero in Volta tied to the seawall. The agency had recommended a mooring spot in the vicinity, but I’m not sure we ended up in it. It was very peaceful as the sun set. We sat up on deck sipping exceptionally good local wine, marveling at the landscape and complimenting ourselves on our first successful day in the Venetian lagoon.

Our serenity was terminated in the early morning hours when the fishing fleet began moving offshore. This picturesque little town we had chosen to spend the night in is right next to Porto di Malamocco, an inlet used by fishing boats in the area. The unforgiving seawall punctuated our rocking from the wakes to the point that sleep was impossible, we came to an understanding that for practical purposes, our boat was ‘invisible’ to local craft. Before first light, I went ashore and meandered the ¼ mile to the Adriatic. The glow of the spectacular sunrise gradually made the 40 or so fishing boats materialize on the water.

The run from S. Piero in Volta  to Vignole the next day (about 15 miles) was extremely pleasant. There are briccole (markers) every 50 meters making navigation somewhat less than challenging, but stress free passages were taken advantage of in absorbing local sights and vessels. That afternoon, we moored at a secluded, special agency mooring site in the canal that divides Vignole. We used this spot as a home base while we did Venezeia and Morano by waterbus. After getting the boat properly situated at the agency mooring, we hiked to the water bus stop and were ferried to Venezia. 

Venezia is spectacular, but crowded. In addition to the regular water traffic, there are huge cruise ships and yachts to contend with. I did get a kick out of the familiar khaki uniform of the UPS man standing proudly at the helm of his gondola, heading up the Grand Canal for his next delivery. St. Marks isn’t to be missed, but the density of tourists in the square was above my tolerance (not to mention the pigeons). Some of us stopped at an Internet café on the way back to the waterbus, but I abstained; eMail was one of the things I was on a vacation FROM.

The next day, Wednesday, we again walked the ¼ mile from our boat to the waterbus and lit out for Morano. Morano is the ‘glass’ island. There are glass factories, which produce glass in every shape, color and size from beads and jewelry to knickknacks to tableware to massive decorative sculptures. Murano is smaller, less crowded and there are fewer bridges to negotiate with the wheelchair. We thoroughly enjoyed Murano.

On Thursday, we needed to pick up a couple more crewmembers, Kurt and Richard, at the Venice airport. They had both spent time aboard with Natalie and George last year on the canals of France. We took the boat to get them, there’s water right up to the baggage claim area. The water traffic in the narrow channel to the airport was almost overwhelming. The well-marked channel to the airport was about 4 boats wide. We ran at cruising speed, 6 mph, for that run of 5 miles, being overtaken in one direction or the other every 15 seconds or so. Keeping out of the way of commercial traffic and compensating for their wakes, while trying to stay in the channel was a monumental task. A single turn of the wheel would change the attitude of the boat, but it would take a couple hundred yards for boat to realize a new course. The only way to make an immediate course adjustment was two and 1/4 turns (hard over), then it took a series of 6 or 8 corrections to get it normalized. This part of the vacation was more work than pleasure.

With the new crewmembers aboard, we headed back to our hidey-hole at Vignole. There was a dredge in the airport channel on this passage back. The dredge was positioned a little off the center of the channel to my side and if I wanted to leave him to port, I’d have to venture out of the channel. If I left him to starboard, I’d be blind to oncoming traffic in an area wide enough for only a single boat, until I was on his beam (at 6 mph this would have been an eternity). I was still weighing the options at about 100 yards, when a deck hand on the barge signaled me to leave him to starboard, indicating that my course should be under the bucket, which was positioned to plunge for another batch of spoils. I was within 50 feet of being directly under the bucket, when the operator swung the crane over the barge and out of the way. I think he did this when he saw the sweat running off my face in a manner to rival Niagra Falls. The rest of the way back to Vignola was a piece of cake.

Venetians are pretty casual about the way they leave their boats. In most situations, there are pilings right off the seawall. Where there are no pilings, there are rings at regular intervals built in along the wall. This place in Vignole had the pilings, but they were far enough off the seawall that the fenders were useless. The technique was to tie the mooring line to the cleat, make one loop around the piling, and back to the cleat – one at the bow, one at the stern. The boat just rode against the pilings. The loops would slide up or down as needed to allow for the tide. In the case of rings on the seawall, one just left enough slack…

Once we were again securely attached to the pilings in the quiet canal of Vignole, Suzy and I stayed aboard while the others took the waterbus to Venice and Murano. It was nice having the boat to ourselves – we took advantage of the opportunity for a nice nap. When the troops returned, they brought armfuls of wines, cheeses, breads and fresh fruits and vegetables. Before it was all stowed, a party went off on foot to bring back desserts from a nearby restaurant. Thanks to my sister Natalie (a gourmet cook) all our meals aboard (including breakfast) rivaled or surpassed the culinary delights we experienced ashore.

The next day, Friday, we all went to Murano. As this was our second trip to this island, we were able to take in details rather than being overwhelmed by new sights. I’m a people watcher and there was no shortage of opportunities to hone my skills. Also, while I seldom have the urge to venture inside stores, I do enjoy window-shopping. Suzy and I spent the morning watching people and peering into store windows.

Lunch was enjoyed at a first class restaurant on the Grand Canal (main street) of Burano. We sat on a terrace that was built out over the water. The seafood in Venice is unbelievable, probably because it’s fresh daily.

We wanted to experience the Grand Canal of Venetia from the water, and because our houseboat was not allowed there, we decided to do it by waterbus. We took a waterbus from Burano to Venetia, and then got on a ‘local’ to ride around Venetia and through the Grand Canal. We had planned to stop at Lido after our excursion, but this local waterbus made so many stops and was so crowded that we all began wishing we were back aboard the houseboat sharing a bottle of wine. We unanimously decided to cut Lido from the schedule and headed back to the solitude of our secluded mooring in Vignole.

Saturday was a day of preparation for the trip to Burano. The first task was to top off the boat’s water tank. We’d done this earlier in the week, so we knew the drill, especially the part about not having the current push us into the low bridge, which was only a few feet from the water source. We waited until the tide was against us, and then motored to a spot in front of the public fountain. We spun the boat in the narrow channel using the bow thruster and quickly tied the stern to a tree ashore, letting the current swing the bow parallel to the seawall. After the bow was secured via a long loop to a light post we broke out the tank filling paraphernalia.

The public fountain was short a stone column with a gargoyle head on one side which dribbled water out of the mouth. The flow ran 24/7 at about a gallon a minute. To catch the water, one cut the bottom off of a plastic liter bottle, poked a couple holes in opposite sides of the rim and looped a string between the holes. A hole was made in the cap that was just large enough to accept the end of an unterminated length of hose. Then all one has to do is loop the string over the gargoyle’s head so the stream from the gargoyle mouth is directed into the plastic bottle. The bottle then funnels the water into the hose, the other end of which is in the fill hole for the boat water tank.  Wallah! In a matter of only a couple hours you’ve taken on more than a hundred gallons of water.

The next task was to top off the fuel tank. The boat didn’t have a fuel gauge; Marcelo had told us to calculate fuel usage based on X liters per engine hour. We’d done that, and figured we could probably get by, but the route to our next destination, Burano took us reasonable close to a fuel stop. The fuel dock was just off the right of way for waterbusses, taxies, gondolas; UPS barges etc. so it was not only congested, but also wakes were also plentiful. Negotiating the approach through the traffic was a little daunting and there wasn’t much room for error as the fuel dock is just that, only a dock…room for one boat. We bounced through the wakes and I got the bow in close with the help of the bow thruster. We threw a line around a piling on the starboard side, and hurriedly offered a stern line to the attendant. The attendant waved off the stern line, and I truly considered teaching him some four letter docking words in English, but I decided to go with the flow. I cranked her hard to port and put her on about 1,200 rpm. As the short bow line strained, the stern made it’s way to a firm position at the dock. The wooden pilings attenuated the effects of the wakes as our stainless rub rails slid up and down their worn faces. We were all happy to get under way again for the peaceful trip to Burano.

On the way to Burano, we were passed by newly weds in a water taxi. The boat was festively decked out in flowers and ribbons. As they passed us, we had a good view of the happy couple cuddling in the back of the boat, he was in his tux and the breeze was blowing about her veils.

We moored beam to the fetch in Burano, at the place recommended by the agency. We were rocked regularly by wakes as we were right on the channel, but the motion wasn’t too bad. We split up as we left the boat to explore this rather small island. I call Burano the Lace Island, because that’s the specialty there, lace in all shapes and sizes, similar to how Murano was with glass. Burano was busy but not overly crowded. The tourist shops were concentrated near the town square along with several restaurants. There were residential areas and there were areas of small stores where the residents shopped. The local children played hide-and-seek and soccer in the square. The houses were brightly painted and in good repair, some with unbelievable gardens of fluorescent  flowers. The people were friendly. This was my kind of place.

We eventually all got together for a late lunch – this was facilitated by each group carrying a walkie-talkie. Those little 2 way radios are great for this kind of thing. Richard picked out a restaurant right in the midst of the busy tourist area; there would be a 10-minute wait. As we were being led to our table, we realized that the bride and groom that we saw in the water taxi were having their reception at this restaurant. Not only that, but our table was between the wedding cake and the keyboard player. George said he felt like he was part of a scene from The Godfather.

We all smiled and well wished the couple when they came within earshot, and we cheered the dancers and gave them thumbs up when the conga line passed by our table. My sister and her husband had their picture taken with the wedding cake. Even though we couldn’t understand the words, the music was outstanding – we felt like family at the wedding. As we were leaving, George boisterously congratulated the newly weds, and the entire wedding party rose to give him a standing ovation as he exited (maybe they were shouting good riddance?)

We were all back at the boat relaxing on deck, when we were approached by a local. Kurt speaks French and French is evidenlty closer to Italian then English, so Kurt became our interpreter. We got the idea that the local, now known as Bruno, wanted us to relocate (to a spot across and up the canal) because there was a forecast for severe weather. I wasn’t sure whether Bruno was concerned for our safety, or he just didn’t want our honkus houseboat moored in front of his house. Ultimately, we decided not to relocate. It was getting dark, we’d all had a few glasses of wine, I didn’t think the couple hundred yards of fetch over 15’ of water would pose much danger even if the weather did get nasty, plus that spot across the canal looked mighty small.

Bruno reluctantly accepted our decision not to move and invited Kurt to his house. Kurt returned, explaining that Bruno had shown him some of his work – Bruno was a painter. It wasn’t long before George and Kurt both went back to Brunos, then returned with a Bruno original. Bruno came by a short time after, presenting us with a bottle of Grappa. I’m not sure what the official description of grappa is, but it tastes like it’s in the gasoline family.

Not long after we got to the ½ way mark on the grappa, another native came by to warn us about the bad weather – we thought we understood him to say “tornado”. I still wasn’t game to move, but I was outvoted. Of course by this time it was dark.

George took the helm, I untied us and we proceeded around the corner to Bruno’s recommended spot. This spot was just off of a dogleg up in the canal. With the aid of the bow thruster, we were able to get the bow tied off, then realized that no matter how we oriented ourselves from there, the stern would be hanging out in the channel so far that it would be impossible for larger boats get by. We ended up mooring at a spot directly across the canal from where we had been (< 50’ away) except in this spot we were stern to the fetch instead of bow to. I get really nervous when people are jumping on and off the boat in the dark, after a few drinks, but in this case there was no harm done. The ‘tornado scare’ turned out to be little more than a lightening display that kept it’s distance.

Sunday morning we were fortunate enough to be able to go up on deck and have front row seats for a parade of Venetian racing gondolas, oared boats, scows, power boats and small sailing ships. This parade was the beginning of a Regatta. The town was bristling with associated activities including a seafood festival. They had mounds of little shrimp, squid, octopus and who knows what else that were heaped together in a bucket of batter, shaken, then deep fried. There was no preparation prior to this battering; these little guys were whole and almost kicking. After they cooled a little, you popped a pinchfull into your mouth; Mmmm good! I’d go back to Burano for nothing more than a handfull of those little fried critters.

I was the helmsman for the 6 hour trip back to Chioggia that afternoon. We had to have the boat back early Sunday, and it was customary to spend the last night at the dock to avoid a late return because of weather or other unexpected conditions. We did take the houseboat out the last inlet before hitting Chioggia, just to get a little Adriatic Sea spray in the face.

Chioggia was a different town when we returned. It was still charming, but the festive atmosphere we had stumbled on when we arrived was missing. We learned that the weekend of our original arrival was the last weekend before the kids went back to school. The town that had been celebrating the last fling of summer on our first encounter was now void of the locals and local tourists and street vendors that had been out in full force the weekend before.

We ordered a van to take the 6 of us to the airport, but there was nothing big enough available, so we took two cabs. Kurt and Richard were on a different airline, so we split up in Venice and regrouped when we landed at Charles DeGaul in Paris.

We stayed 2 nights in Paris. We did a lot of walking to see the nearby sights. On Monday we had a full day in Paris. We took a double decker tour bus ride past such sights as ‘Eyefull Tower” (which I didn’t think was leaning), as well as other unmemorable places in the morning. This was especially exciting because we had the front row seats on the top deck, although sometimes we got a little nervous at the closeness of the traffic (sometimes inches from touching) – which seems to be the norm in Paris. Our afternoon excursion was on a different bus to Versailles. Now there’s a palace if I ever saw one but the cobblestone road up to it was a bear pushing my wife’s wheelchair.

The last night in Paris, we had dinner at a restaurant owned in part by Richard and Kurt. Great food, and outstanding service.

We were back home on Wednesday, in disbelief that we had for the first time in our lives, experienced Europe. This fairy tale was made possible by the generosity of George and Natalie who not only made all the arrangements and reservations, but also footed the entire bill. The only time I put my hand in my pocket was to pay for souvenirs. Not only that, George led all the tours and did all the organizing, kept things on pace and even made sure I had local currency in my pocket in case of an emergency. Suzy and I had all the responsibility of a 10 year old on vacation with Mom and Dad at Disneyland – the ideal way for us to do Europe.

If I had to describe the trip to London, Paris and a week aboard a boat in Venice, in one word, it would have to be FOOD. Between the first class restaurants that George and Natalie frequent, and the unbelievably scrumptious meals that Natalie fixed aboard we were in culinary heaven. And while I believe that a boat is the ideal way to do Venice, and you can’t beat the Venetian Lagoon for history, culture, architecture, local color, and food, I still think that it’s tough to beat BOATING in and around the good old US of A.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Bahamas - Not This Time

Port Everglades 2/4-8/00

Ever since I first got my drivers license, I’ve enjoyed spending time on the road. At that time I lived in Chicago. I’d drive 800+ miles to New York to see the Statue of Liberty on a 3 day weekend. I’d never even get out of the car, just wave at the majestic lady, do a 180, and head back. On several occasions I did the West Coast using only 5 vacation days – leaving Friday after work, returning late Sunday night. I’d volunteer to take a couple months off during slow times for a Florida vacation, with the agreement that I’d return and work the weekends if they needed me; and they usually did.

My wife and I lived aboard a sailboat for 3 years in the 70’s. Traveling on the water was just as satisfying as being on the road, maybe more so. We sold the sailboat in the early 80’s shortly after the birth of our daughter and a commitment to land based living. Spoiled by the comforts of a home, our next boat was a 35’ trawler. The trawler indeed offered all the comforts of home but it didn’t provide much traveling satisfaction; it was moored 350 miles from home and couldn’t be used for weekend cruising, not to mention a relatively limited cruising range for even a week aboard. The trawler experience lasted a little over a year. We went boatless for 3 years after we sold her. There were many road trips by car during those 3 years, but the void of not having a boat grew and grew.

I had time to contemplate the perfect boat after selling the trawler. I dreamed of something the family could spend a week at a time aboard. The wish list included a place for two (and occasionally 3) to sleep aboard, a toilet, a fresh water tank, a stove, a provision to be out of inclimate weather while steering, and it had to be easily managed. I ended up with a 15’11” outboard powered cuddy. It will allow all of my 6’ to sleep horizontally, in a straight line, with enough room for my wife beside me. The boat is equipped with a porta-potty, 14 gallon water tank, a single burner propane camping stove and canvas to totally enclose the helm. I also opted for the camper back, which encloses the entire cockpit, allowing a 3^rd crewmember to stay comfortable and dry while sleeping outside the cuddy. We call the boat “QT”.

My goal is to spend at least one night a month aboard with a couple weeklong trips a year. The last time out was when my wife and I spent a night on the water in early December to watch the Charleston SC boat parade and fireworks show. The rest of December and all of January slipped by without an outing; things were just too busy at work. QT sat patiently on her trailer, next to the house, waiting for her next adventure.

Finally, in early February, there was an opportunity to get away. I told my family that I would be heading south on February 4^th, and if they wanted to accompany me, they were welcome. My daughter had school and my wife had to work, so I planned to go alone – I’d be gone a week.

Nick’s Rule of Overnighting states that if the temperature will get below 40 degrees, head farther south to launch. I decided to play the best odds and head for Fort Lauderdale/Miami. I slept aboard in the parking lot of the Florida Welcome Center on Friday night. Saturday night was spent aboard, in the water, in Manatee Pocket near Stuart. The Pocket is a neat place. There’s an excellent ramp, the surrounding area is varied and interesting, and there was a chance that some fellow boaters might still be hanging out there. A circumnavigation of the Pocket, several attempts on the VHF and a cursory check of the area by car didn’t turn them up, but I did have a very pleasant time in the area. I cruised around to Stuart, as far as the Roosevelt Bridge anchorage, (I can clear the RR Bridge even when it is down), on the return I poked my bow out the St Lucie inlet, then meandered south down the ICW. It was so peaceful in the No Wake Manatee Zone that I dropped the hook for an afternoon nap. I was awakened by a passing Sea Tow rescue boat who hailed me to see if I needed assistance – I didn’t mind being disturbed, but maybe what I need is a flag I can hoist that alerts passers by of “Crew Napping”.

I eventually returned to the area near the ramp, put the boat in about 5 feet of water and dropped the hook for the night. It was cold, so I put up the top, side curtains and back curtain. This canvas closes off the cockpit from the windscreen to just behind the seats. The camper back would have been nice, but it’s larger and hard to repack so I don’t usually mess with it unless there’s 3 of us aboard for the night.

Secure inside, but a little cold, I fired up the single burner camping stove for a cup of hot chocolate. Mmmmmm, did it ever hit the spot. I left the fire going for awhile as I sat there taking in the surroundings. Occasionally, boats would pass by going up into the pocket and without exception, they would slow to a real no wake. I watched as a few boats were launched, and as several returned to be brought landside. Pelicans, expecting handouts, welcomed every boat that approached the ramp. A couple of fellows executed several throws of a cast net off the dock…I could see them bending over to examine their catch by the light at the end of the ramp. I finally turned in, climbing into the cuddy and my cozy sleeping bag. A chilly shoulder alerted me a couple times in the night that the sleeping bag was not keeping me completely covered.

I was up before sunrise, had the boat on the trailer, and was making my way to I95 well before dawn. There was a Cracker Barrel at the I95 interchange that wouldn’t let me past without having breakfast; I succumbed to a delicious omelet and a bottomless cup of coffee before getting on I95 south.

The next stop was the ramp at Lauderdale. I had been to John U Lloyd State Park, just south of Port Everglades Inlet, on a previous trip. It’s a couple bucks to get into the park, but there’s a very nice ramp, plenty of parking and the location is ideal. I put everything aboard I’d need for the next couple days, put the boat in the water, parked the truck/trailer out of the way, called the wife to check in/out and was on my way north up the ICW by about 9:30 am.

While living aboard the sailboat those 3 years, my wife and I spent the first winter in the Keys, the second in the Bahamas and the third winter we were in the Caribbean. We liked the Bahamas best, often dreaming about spending more time there without having to worry about draft, or the need to plan so far ahead because the boat could only make 5 knots. It would be great to be able to poke around the Bahamas in QT. However, crossing the Gulf Stream in a 16’ boat requires much consideration, caution, and preparation. But here I was, in Florida, at the Port Everglades Inlet knowing that if the opportunity presented itself, I would make a day trip to Bimini, or Cat Cay. With that in mind, I headed out into the Big Puddle.

The plan this time, as before, was to head east out the inlet, following a Bimini “goto” on the GPS. After an hour and a half, I would make for the nearest land. On a good day, in a well mannered Gulf Stream, 90 minutes at a very comfortable 22 mph would put me 33 miles off shore, substantially closer to Bimini than Ft Lauderdale.

My wife Suzy asked me before I left, “What circumstances I would have to experience in order to make the commitment to cross the Gulf Stream?”

I told her I’d just know if it was right, but she wanted something more concrete. I offered that the forecast would have to call for improving weather for at least 36 hours, and the current conditions would have to be conducive enough to favor Bimini using my hour and a half rule. Suzy knows the boat has positive floatation, I always wear my life jacket when heading offshore, and that in addition to the cell phone and fixed GPS and VHF, I carry a handheld GPS, and a handheld VHF. I also keep my Coast Guard safety equipment current and I have a sea anchor aboard. She also took comfort knowing that I had contacted Tow Boat/US in Ft Lauderdale and would file a Float Plan with them before committing. 

I can listen to the VHF weather for 15 minutes and if I don’t write down what is said, I won’t have a clue what the weather will be when I turn it off -- kind of like listening to the admiral 8-). I do remember trends though, and having listened to the forecast many times as I was driving from The Pocket and again as I made my way out the inlet, I knew the forecast was for improving weather…I guess I ought to note the forecast in the log book (next time I will make a point of it). Looking back I think the wind was 10-15 mph and fading out of the NE, with the forecast for it to eventually swing to the West at 5, before calming all together. The Gulf Stream was 8 feet, but would be diminishing over the next two days. I know the Gulf Stream can sometimes get calmer at night, and I would have considered coming back in the dark if necessary.

In spending over 1,000 days/nights aboard the sailboat, I grew to have a sense about venturing offshore. I had a feeling by the time I entered the jetties that I wouldn’t see Bimini on this run, but continued out anyway. If nothing else, it would be an excellent opportunity to ‘play’ some in the Gulf Stream…to learn a little more about my Arima without putting myself in appreciable danger.

Someone asked me once, “How do you know when the seas are too big, or the weather is too bad?” I suppose everyone has his or her own answer to that question, but to me, you are in trouble when your boat does not act predictably. This means that if you know how she will act under given conditions and can compensate if necessary, in a predictable manner, you are not in over your head (so to speak). Of course there will come a point where you can no longer predictably compensate, but hopefully by intelligently testing the waters, you will know where/when that point is and avoid it, at least until you have an opportunity to find a way to manage it.

After about an hour, I was 10+ miles offshore…I drifted with the engine off for about 20 minutes. I started the engine and let it idle in gear while I took the seas on the bow, stern and all points between. I did it again at 5 mph, again at 10 mph, again 15 mph, again at 20 mph = WOT in those conditions. This was the first time I had ever experienced the motor race from the prop being out of the water but the boat never gave me cause for concern. In fact, she reminded me of a porpoise moving playfully through the swells. I learned that while I wouldn’t normally expect to do any boating in this type of sea, there was certainly no reason to believe there would be any concern if I had to be out in it. I was convinced that I could have made Bimini, it just would have taken a whole lot longer.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting that next time the forecast is for 8’ that I will just allow more time. I’ve been in the Stream often enough to know it doesn’t listen to the forecasts…you can’t really know what it’s going to be like out there, and that what the Gulf Stream is dishing up today at 8’ could be quite different from the next 8’ encounter. No ‘etched in stone’ judgements could be made from this experience, it was simply an observation/experiment that was to be incorporated in my big picture of boating.

On the trip back in, I started a run north up the shore when I got close enough to make out people on the Ft Lauderdale Beach, but decided I’d rather spend the time in more protected waters on the Dania Cutoff or the New River. I might even venture north up the ICW for a spell. And who knows, maybe tomorrow the Gulf Stream would quiet down some and I could give it another shot.

The 17^th Street Bridge had just opened so the waters on both sides were a maelstrom of floating real estate of all shapes and sizes. I hung back and waited for the mess to clear. My boat felt very sluggish as I slogged through the current under the bridge. The steep rollers funneling between the bridge fenders kept the bow up and the stern dug in, even at full throttle. The boat behaved as if there were more current than seemed apparent.

I cut across the ICW and tied up at the small boat dock of the marina. A bag of ice and maybe I’d pick up a beer to have with dinner on the hook. As I stepped out of the boat onto the dock, I noticed the bilge pump discharge. This was uncharacteristic. Maybe a cooler had overturned. I got back aboard and checked - nope, both coolers were in good shape. The discharge quit but it bothered me because it’s very rare for enough water to make its way aboard to activate the bilge pump. The only time I’d known that to happen was during a heavy rain.

As I stepped on the dock a second time, the pump came on again. The water tank…a line must have come off the water tank and it’s draining into the bilge. I tasted the discharge water - it was salty. What the heck could the problem be?

There’s a lagoon behind the ramp at John U Lloyd. I made my way to the lagoon and beached the boat. As much of the hull as I could see looked great while I was standing in the water, but the pump came on again. I took QT over to the ramp. As I waited in line for my turn to get out of the water, the pump came on several times. Finally I got QT back on her trailer.

There was no doubt the boating part of my vacation was over as I got a good look at the hull once out of the water. There was a 4” fracture at the starboard bow, just below the waterline. Several months back, a repair had been made by a boatyard to an impact point at that spot, and the repair had let loose. I considered patching the area with underwater epoxy that I carry aboard, but decided it best to contact the folks at Arima to see what they recommended to keep this from happening again.

I headed home via Savannah and Beaufort NC - even if I couldn’t spend any more time IN the water, at least I could spend some time NEAR the water.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Car miles = 2040

Boat miles = 63.7

Boat fuel = 10.1 gallons

Engine hours = 7.0

Freezer/Refrigerator Findings

I bought a small chest freezer for the boat; less than $150 from Walmart.

The Danby 3.2 cu. ft. Chest Freezer is perfect for placement in your garage, rec room or office, and fits neatly in smaller spaces for versatile freezer storage. Use it to freeze popsicles, TV dinners, meat, fish and more. The front-mount mechanical thermostat lets you customize the freezer's internal temperature, and the foam-insulated cabinet and lid keeps your food frozen. This versatile chest freezer also features a manual defrost function, and comes with a defrost drain and vinyl-coated basket.

The intent was to put containers of water in the freezer and freeze them solid while the boat was on the trailer in the back yard. Then while on 2 or 3 day cruises I would unplug the freezer, use it as a cooler and wouldn't have to buy ice. We could also use the thawed water in the containers for drinking.

Danby chest freezer on aft deck makes a nice table.

Under normal regular use, the unplugged freezer would would be a good cooler for 6 days yielding an internal temperature of 34 - 45° as the containers of ice melted. But I like my beer really cold, about 28°.

To lower the freezer/cooler temperature, I substituted the containers of water for a 5 gallon camping jug filled with brine - 5 gallons of water to 24oz of salt. 

The jug would 'brick' in less than 2 days and as the brick melted in the unplugged freezer, the temperature inside would stay at 30° in the lower part and low 40's up on top in the basket. This was perfect. I could keep my beer cold at the bottom of the freezer and my wife could use the upper part for a refrigerator. The problem was, if I needed to re-charge the brick, the freezer thermostat only allows settings from -4.0 up to 0°, so while 're-charging', the freezer would produce 0° in the process and destroy my wife's lettuce in the refrigerator section, not to mention freezing my beer.

The solution was a remote bulb line thermostat with an adjustable setting. Set the thermostat temperature to 28°, put the bulb in the freezer and plug the freezer into the thermostat. When the freezer temp gets down to 28° the line thermostat turns the freezer off. Now we were cookin'. This setup would even make ice with the freezer unplugged.

Just for curiosity, I connected a timer to the system and used the inverter to run the freezer. After 36 hours, the inverter had been asked to run the freezer for a total of 28 minutes. I'm sure this would increase dramatically with freezer/refrigerator use, especially with me putting warm beer inside, but it did offer insight into the possibility of running the freezer with the inverter.

As it turns out, needing to re-charge the frozen brine brick won't be necessary in most cases. The system maintained easily for a week with the freezer unplugged while we were on Lake Powell and it saw plenty of use.

The line thermostat will continue to be used without the brick while the boat is on the trailer...to keep my beer at 28°.

Line thermostat mounted in plastic box. Large toggle is a bypass to use in full freezer mode. Small toggle is for an internal 12 volt circulation fan.

More pics of line thermostat.

Top view of plastic container

Inside view of line thermostat wiring

The 9volt snap is the wires for the for the internal fan switch.

12 volt muffin fan circulation tower to normalize upper and lower temps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I quit using the circulation tower. I like the idea of having a 'freezer' in the lower part and a refrigerator in the upper part. We buy frozen stuff for our week aboard and put it low in the freezer. That food eventually thaws but is well preserved even for the last days of a week without power to the freezer.

I've since updated the line thermostat to a simpler, cheaper construction - about an hour and $40 bucks gets the job done.

And now, you don't have to make your own thermostat. You can buy one that's plug and play.

Get one on Amazon

Oh, and I've found the 5 gallon camping jugs can be a problem, so I now use a much sturdier version - a gas can.

3000i

Can you run a portable generator in an enclosed compartment?

You can if it's a Honda 3000i, and probably others as well. My remote start Honda has given me well over a couple hundred hours from inside a box. The box/generator used to be on my camper tongue, now it's on the roof of my boat.

The grill is the front of the generator and also air in. The round cover is for emergency pull start.

The top hatch opens for access to the gas tank.

This is the exit/exhaust side - through the louvers. The round brass thing is an old heat sensing alarm that came with the house, but you can see it's not really necessary - the louvers are not even discolored from excessive heat.

Here's how we fill the generator without using a gas can.