It was cold even for early February in Spartanburg. I
moved the temperature control to full heat before I started the car engine. As
the day wore on, I adjusted the temperature away from hot; by the time I hit
Daytona I was running the A/C. At that point, I was about ½ way into the +/-
900 miles from my home in Spartanburg to Key West. I kept on truckin’, reaching
Manitee Pocket near Stuart, at about 11:00pm. I didn’t launch the boat at the
Pocket, I just climbed into the cuddy in a parking spot at the ramp for the night.
I was up and on the road before dawn, but it was light by
the time I finished breakfast at the Cracker Barrel just before getting on I95.
I wasn’t sure where I’d end up that night - somewhere in the Keys…I’d know when
it was right to splash NICKY, a 2000 Seaswirl 1850 W/A, pushed by a 115
Evinrude Ficht Ram.
When I saw the exit sign that said, “Jupiter”, I remembered
the last time I had been down this way, I swore I would stay off I95 between
Lauderdale and Coral Gables, so I picked up the Florida Turnpike. A few bucks
in tolls would surely be worth the aggravation of the ‘not long on manners’
Florida drivers. OK, I admit I probably antagonize those Florida folks who are
in a hurry to be somewhere else, because I only go 55 mph. Fifty-five is only
made possible by a recent purchase of a used 1998 Ford F150; previously in my
1972 F100, the max speed was 49 mph.
At the end of the Florida Turnpike there was a big as you
please Wal Mart - right at the traffic light. I love Wal Mart so I parked and
sauntered around the store…big store. Big, but none of the shoppers were
speaking English. No matter, a trip through the boating section -- not because
I needed anything, just out of habit, grabbed a couple bags of ice and I was on
my way. Hey, it looked like what appeared to be cheap gas on the way out – fill
up! Head down to the Florida City “Keys Welcome Center” a few blocks down US 1
to check out possible Keys boat ramps and pick up a Florida Keys booklet to
supplement my 1993 vintage Florida State map. I would have picked up a new
Florida map at the I95 Florida Welcome Center when I left Georgia, but they
were closed when I got there.
I’d done a little research on where to launch in the Keys.
I’d even swapped eMail with a marina north of Marathon, but I normally just
‘get close’ before making any decisions on the exact location. Turns out, I
didn’t see/find the marina and was getting itchy feet to get the boat in the
water, so I turned right off of US 1 into Bahia Honda State Park. The brown
sign announcing the park entrance had a picture of a boat ramp.
The Florida parks close at night -- no one in or out sundown
to sunrise, and there is a charge to get in. It makes me feel a little better
about leaving the truck/trailer in the lot when I’m out on the water over
night. The Bahia Honda State Park Marina is on a little pocket facing the bay
side, but still east of US 1. It’s a very protected area, the 3 ½’ controlling
channel depth obviously no problem for my outboard. I launched, ran the
channel, cut through an open section of the old highway bridge and headed north
toward Marathon.
I used up every bit of sunlight exploring the harbor at
Marathon. What a pleasant plethora of moored/anchored boats of all persuasions.
Resolute, Daisy, Sabo, Quality Time, Joyden, Honga and Papillion, all Krogens
were within ¼ mile of each other amidst the sport fishermen, cruisers and
sailboats.
There were several sunken boats and many others that were
floating only out of habit. I saw live-aboard folks on deck of at least ½ of the
boats. Deep inside the harbor, there are extravagant homes but also casual and
very popular shore side night spots. One of the bars even had two dinghy
areas…one for inflatables, and one for hard dinks. There was a constant barrage
of dinghies coming and going throughout the harbor, their focus being mostly on
the area from whence wafted Jimmy Buffet via a live band.
A gorgeous sunset presented itself as I was departing the
Marathon harbor. I probably could have eyeballed my way back to the anchorage
in front of the Bahia Honda marina if the sunset hadn’t mesmerized me into not
sliding the throttle forward as I left the no wake zone. Oh well, I’d just
follow the GPS track back. The trouble was, I thought I had the GPS track
resolution set to max zoom, and in fact it was two steps out. It appeared I was
only off the original (safe) track a smidgeon when the full moon warned me of
an island in the middle of my intended course. It didn’t take long to realize
the GPS needed to be zoomed in, and when it was, it showed me off course by
several hundred feet - enough to make a surprise landfall before getting to the
bridge. I like to think the depth sounder probably would have warned me in
plenty of time at my 12 mph rate of speed, but none the less, it was a good lesson.
Despite the fact that several sailboats seemed to be well
anchored in the windy chop of the anchorage, my hook wouldn’t get a bite into
the hard bottom even after many attempts at various locations in the area. I
finally decided to run the little channel back into the Marina in the moonlight
and tie up to an empty spot on the harbor wall..
Up before the sun the next morning, hot coffee in hand, I
made my way back to Hawk Channel for the run to Key West. The boat did very
well in the short chop, but after making about ½ the distance to Key West I
decided to do a 180 and trailer the rig down. If the sun had been out and the
sea a little flatter, it would have been a different story…this was to be a
pleasure cruise, not an endurance contest. As I approached the spot where I had
almost run aground the night before, the sun made an appearance and the wind
died a little. I swung into the lee of the tiny island and dropped the hook for
a respite and a cup of breakfast granola. Getting the boat back on the trailer
was uneventful as usual; about 15 minutes after running the channel into the
harbor, we were trailering our way to Key West.
The closer I got to Key West, the more congested things
became. The traffic got thicker, the streets got narrower and everyone seemed
to be in a hurry to get to the end of US 1. I drove from the top to the bottom
of Key West, from one side to the other, ultimately deciding that the pace and
the crowds were more than I cared to deal with. I headed back north without
putting the boat in the water. I knew I’d be return one day - to make the run
to the Dry Tortugas, so I wasn’t at all disappointed.
Once out of Key West, I used every opportunity I could to
stay below the speed limit. I wanted to take in as much countryside as possible.
It’s a pleasant drive up and down US 1 if you’re not in a hurry. When Marathon
was ‘abeam’, I began seriously looking for a ramp. I hadn’t been concerned
about splashing before then, because from Marathon south, the primary cruising
area is outside in Hawk Channel. I at least wanted the option to cruise the
more protected waters bayside. Then I remembered that the fellow at the Welcome
Center in Florida City had given me a brochure for John Pennekamp State Park in
Key Largo; there was a ramp there. OK, so if I didn’t find something sooner,
I’d put in at Pennekamp.
As I headed north, I pondered how many miles of single lane
traffic there must be - this was the only way out of the Keys. Normally I don’t
go the speed limit, I’m in no hurry, but I kept right at the speed limit on
this stretch so I didn’t have a million cars backed up behind me. I was going a
little slower than the masses, but every now and then they would slow for one
reason or another and I would catch up to the same fellow in front of me. All
of a sudden, Swoosh – some jerk dashes around me in a no passing zone. I
wondered how much time he could actually gain, passing 200 or so cars, one at a
time; was there really any sense in it? I then tried to keep close to the
fellow in front of me so as not to entice any more passing by offering open
road ahead of my front bumper. Whoosh, another idiot pulls along side of me in
a no passing zone. I slowed to let him in, suggesting to myself it would be so
satisfying to see one of these maniacs get pulled over. YES! A short
punctuated werrrrrrp, brought my
attention to a blue light on the police car right behind the idiot.
Gratification! And did I mention that I found gas cheaper, just south of the
Pennekamp entrance than at the Wal Mart in Florida City?
The more I thought about Pennekamp, the better I liked it.
The park is billed as a Coral Reef State Park “America’s First Undersea Park”.
It was Tuesday evening, the lady ranger said it was really too late to check in
to go boating. I told her I wanted to stay out/aboard overnight. She said OK,
then began to fill out a ‘Float Plan’ for me. Boat make, model year, engine
make etc. were all easy enough questions. Then she asked? “Where will you
anchor for the night?”
I told her I wasn’t
familiar with the park, I’d just motor beyond the marina and drop the hook. She
said I would need to get out of the park proper before anchoring.
I said, “How about
No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne? I stayed there back in the 70’s when we were
waiting for weather to go to Bimini.”
She shook her head, “Too far.”
“OK, how about say, Angelfish Creek - another departure
point for the Bahamas? How far is that?” I inquired.
The lady ranger wrote Anglefish Creek on the float plan,
took $7.22 and said, “It’s about 15 miles. I envy you. You’ll have a great
time.”
By the time I was in the water it was getting dark. The
channel is a shallow snaking maze through mangroves. I made a wrong turn on the
way out, ending up in what I later learned was Largo Sound. There were mooring
balls in the sound – the sign said to call the ranger on VHF 16. There were
other signs saying, “Area Closed to Watercraft with Combustable Engines.” I
didn’t want to be on a mooring, but was afraid I’d end up in trouble with the
authorities if I dropped the hook. I backtracked to take the other option at
the “T”. This time, after at least 15 minutes at idle speed, I did find my way
out into Hawk Channel, most of the way delineated by many more “Area Closed…”
signs at the edges of the channel.
When I got to the channel ‘sea bouy’, beyond the “Area
Closed…” signs, I did drop the hook in some pretty sloppy chop. By now it was
well after sundown and even though there was a full moon I hesitated to take
potluck in finding calmer waters for the night. I went below to study the
chart.
Angelfish Creek was too far in the dark. There appeared to
be a protected cove called Whitmore Bight less than 5 miles north. There was a
daymark off the bight. Not having the forsight to bring my dividers, I tore off
a strip of paper that was the length of the distance between 80 25 and 80 30
and folded it into 5ths so I could get an accurate read on the coordinates for
a GPS waypoint. Even this was somewhat of a longshot, the chart was from 1975;
the marker could have been long gone. I never did see the marker, but when I
‘arrived’ at the waypoint I swung due west until I ran into 4’ of water, then
north toward the beach enough to get out of the fetch. I stayed up for an hour
or so after dropping the hook, serenading the full moon. What a pleasant,
peaceful evening!
I kept the speed way down the next morning so as not to
jostle the coffee water off the single burner camp stove as I made my way
north. By the time the sun was up, I had hot coffee, and by the by, I did spot
the elusive daymarker off Whitmore Bight on my way out.
Angelfish Creek is another maze of watery ribbons through
the mangroves. After exploring several of the creeks, I hooked out for about an
hour to watch the fish and birds while enjoying a breakfast of Pop Tarts. Once
into Card Sound, I circumnavigated Pumpkin Key, then got on the magenta line of
the ICW south.
I love the waterway. The trip from MM1125 to MM1150 was no
exception, including a nap just south of the US 1 bridge. I cut back across the
keys and US 1 to Hawk Channel at Tavernier. I thought maybe I’d have lunch in
the ‘anchorage’ between Pt Lowe and
(little) Tanvrnier Key, but it
was too rough to enjoy myself, so I just continued on up to the channel back
into Pennekamp. At the junction in the Pennekamp channel that splits to the
marina or the Largo sound, I opted for the sound. I’d thought I’d like to get
to know the sound a little better in the daylight.
Well, the sound itself wasn’t much, but there were those
water ribbons through mangroves at the north end… I couldn’t resist. At a
couple junctions, I was glad I had the GPS, because it could have been
challenging to find my way back. I kept on meandering at a no wake pace for
over an hour, (not including the ½ hour I was tied to a mangrove toasting hotdogs
on my stove) eventually emerging into a bay with day markers defining a route
out into Hawk Channel. I cautiously ran the shallow channel out to the ‘sea
bouy’. At the ‘sea bouy’ (which was in 5 feet of water) I turned around to read
a sign warning those approaching from offshore “Shallow Channel - Local
Knowledge Required” or some such verbage. The sign was warranted, there were
some places squarely between the markers that were sounding at less than 3
feet. When I checked to see where I was on the chart, I discovered that
Whitmore Bight, where I’d spent last night, was only a little bit south down
Hawk channel. I could have run back ‘outside’, but I enjoy poking through the
mangroves, so I returned the way I’d come.
The lady ranger had told me that if I wanted to spend a
second night aboard, that I should report personally back to the guard shack at
the entrance to the park. I might have stayed another night -- I suppose I
could have left the boat at the seawall and taken the truck/trailer up to the entrance
to report in, but I decided that I might just as well trailer up the boat and
re-launch somewhere else.
I didn’t really decide which direction to drive until I was
out of the park at US 1. I knew I wanted to spend some time in Miami waters,
but it was the traffic that really made up my mind, it was easier to make a
right turn, than to go left. OK, so what boat ramp should I target. I had John
Lloyd in Lauderdale as a fallback, and I think they had a ramp at the park on
Key Biscayne…we’ll just see where we are when we get the urge.
I think I’d just paid the 3rd toll on the Florida
Turnpike when I noticed a brown sign. I’ve grown to like those brown signs
designating parks, sometimes they herald a boat ramp, and this one did.
Miami-Dade Black Point Marina. What a great place.
It seemed to be a habit, getting out on the water at dusk.
The 1 1/2 mile No Wake Manitee channel didn’t help things either. By the time I
reached the end of the channel the only light I had was the full moon. I knew
the drill…drop the hook, go below, check the chart for a marker with a clear
deep track near a good spot to anchor, put the coordinates in the GPS, make the
run to the marker, then slowly make my way into the anchorage. The run of about
4 miles to the lighted marker was easy. From the marker into the anchorage was
a different story. I bumped the bottom several times well before I got out of
the chop. Backtrack into deeper water following the GPS breadcrumbs, drop the
hook, go below and put in a new waypoint. This time, knowing the way the wind
built the chop, I was able to pick a better spot - on the bayside of Elliot Key
at about Coon Point. I went in slow until I was in 3 ½ feet of water, dropped
the hook, then sat in the cockpit for an hour or so in the moonlight.
The next morning I was up before dawn, sipping hot coffee as
the horizon began to glow with daybreak. I was going to stay awhile, maybe go
ashore…when I noticed a line of markers between me and the bay, about ¼ mile
off the beach. Worried that in the dark, I’d stumbled into one of those “Area
Closed to Watercraft with Combustible Engines” areas I’d seen so many of at
Pennekamp, I got her on a plane and high tailed it into deeper water. As I
cruised past the row of markers, I saw the writing on them that said, “Slow -
No Wake”.
Throttling her down to about 5 mph, I headed back inside the
“No Wake” markers and went north in 3’ off Elliot. I swung wide on the approach
to Sands Cut. The sun was now high enough to show me where the deep water of
the cut was. Deep meaning 20 to 24” in places. The tide was ripping in, so I
knew if I did run her up out of the water on a sand bar, it wouldn’t be long
before I’d float off, so I kept going. When I exited into Hawk Channel, I
thought about heading north to Key Biscayne, but it was a little sloppy out
there and with all the fascinations offered by the calmer bay, there was no
need to endure the chop. I ran back in the now deeper Sands Cut then decided I would take in Key Biscayne, but
approach it from the Bay side.
No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne has been a favorite place for
me since 1973 when we anchored there on our 27’ sloop, waiting for weather to
go to the Bahamas. It was the only place on this Keys trip that I had
designated as a mandatory stop. I wasn’t disappointed, spending a half hour or
so anchored amongst the cruising boats while I made myself a sandwich. I
remembered the camaraderie we experienced at this spot on the sailboat – there
were 7 boats ‘waiting for weather’. We partied until the weather was favorable,
then we all sailed across the Gulf Stream together. Those were great times, but
interestingly enough, these times are better. My little outboard powered cuddy,
NICKY, does not have the room below that the sailboat did but it is dry and
comfy. I can’t stand up to put my pants on after using the porta-potty in
NICKY, but the space I lost below I gained outside – the sailboat needed 4+
feet of water, NICKY’s cruising grounds include just about anywhere that’s
damp. How I enjoy poking about in those little creeks that are so inviting, but
were off limits in the bigger boat. But the wind is free, you may ponder, and
the outboard motor is always thirsty. On a good day, the single cylinder 10 HP
diesel on the sailboat got 16 mpg. At sailboat speeds, my outboard often gets
10 mpg – I know because I have a FloScan fuel flow meter that tracks gallons
per hour. My GPS feeds the FloScan the boat speed in miles/hour and the FloScan
uses that info to give me a readout in mpg. When I go 25 mph, I get 5 mpg, when
I go 40 mph, I get less, but my weather worries are almost nil, because I can
either get back on the trailer in a very short time, or find shelter up a creek
in inches of water. The sailboat was live-aboard capable, in fact we did live
aboard for over 2 years, but today 2 weeks is the longest time I spend aboard,
and NICKY is quite comfortably suited for that. When I left No Name, nostalgia
made me turn to port. I ran out to Fowey Rocks (on a plane) to relive the
excitement we felt on our first trip past “Gp Fl (2) 20 sec 110ft 16M” on the
way to Bimini. While looking back at Key Biscayne, I noticed something above
one of the Miami skyscrapers. It was an irregular shape, but I was far enough
away that I couldn’t see much more than a shadowey mass…it never moved. Maybe
it was a kite or something.
After lunch at No Name, it was time for Dinner, Dinner Key
that is. I love looking at boats and I knew where to find them. A quick trip
across the bay and into the world of live-aboards. The anchorage just outside
the harbor is literally packed with boats of all shapes and sizes – it’s kind
of like a trailer park for boats…most floating, but some not. Then I went on
into the harbor. It’s a totally different atmosphere in there. Even the smaller
boats are clean and proper. In putting around the area for over 2 hours I
noticed something at the Dinner Key marina that I can’t remember being evident
in any other boat watching outing…a large number of these boats had people on
them doing maintenance; painting, cleaning, installing. I don’t know whether it
was the area or the season, but there was obviously a lot of money being spent
on keeping these boats up. I was glad my little eighteen footers’ ‘slip’ is
next to the house on the trailer, where I can do all of my own maintenance;
which seasonally is only a fraction of the cost of what these big guys are
spending for a single day’s worth of professional care. Little excursions like
this reinforce my feeling that small boat boating is the way to go.
Satisfied with my Dinner Key experience, I headed north. I
thought I’d take a peek at the Miami River. I took the south route around
Claughton Island and was getting ready to do a ‘hard to port’ into the river
when a sport fisherman came blasting through the water intersection in reverse.
I slowed, looking to peek around the bend up river to see what scared him out
in reverse, when I noticed a huge black cloud of smoke coming from around the
bend, then a good sized tug dragging a freighter backwards down the river
toward me. I too found reverse when I saw a tug at the other end of this
freighter jockying from side to side to keep the bow of the freighter in the
middle of the channel. Each time the tug moved across the bow and tightened the
lines, he’d goose the throttle to center his end of the ship in the channel and
belch sky darkening billows of smoke from his stack. In open waters, I’ve seen
tugs bow to the hull, pushing the freighter sideways, this river is so narrow
the only option is to yank the trailing end of the ship (in this case, the bow)
side to side using a short bridle. It’s beyond me how they get these freighters
up and down the river without banging against the boats along the banks and/or
fenders under the narrow bridges.
When the smoke from another of the tug’s corrections
disipated, I noticed a helicopter hovering at not to high of an altitude. Then
I noticed another, and another. The shape reminded me of something, yes, it was
the same shape I saw from Fowey Rocks. So that’s what it was, a helicopter on
station. I don’t think the helicopter had anything to do with the freighter,
but I’m still at a loss to understand what those whirlybirds were doing up
there - sometimes 4 of them, just station keeping. I even saw a fresh
helicopter come in and ‘relieve’ a one that had been there for some time.
What the New River in Lauderdale is to pleasure boats, the
Miami River is to freighters. After a length of marinas, repair facilities,
commercial fishing houses and restaurants, there were wall to wall freighters
along wharves on both sides of the river all the way to the flood gate. At some
places along the river, the clearance between freighters on opposite sides of
the channel was less than 75 feet. These huge ships were literally bumper to
bumper for miles. Some were empty, some had decks stacked high with plants,
bicycles, cars, mattresses, household entry and closet doors, and cartons of
various sizes. What an interesting stretch of waterfront. On the way out, I saw
the telltale billow of black smoke and knew what was coming. I found a small
feeder with pleasure boats tied to both sides. I had to back in because there
was not enough width between them to turn around and I wanted to be bow to the
spectacle. I tied off to a 40 footer that was either in the process of decay or
being restored, and waited. As the first tug approached the opening to the
little feeder, the water became turbulent and the level dropped. I got a little
claustrophobic when the freighter towered slowly past at such a close distance,
but it was short lived when the turbulence returned, hammering me against the
hull of the boat I was tied off to. The Miami River is a not-to-miss
experience, but I’d hate to think about doing it in anything bigger than an 18
foot boat. The helicopters were in their same station keeping positions on my
way out of the river – they’d been there for at least an hour. I headed back to
Black Point, a great downwind run.
NICKY was on her trailer in a heartbeat after the long run
down the No Wake Manitee channel to the Black Point ramp. There’s a nice marina
on the site, but other than a walk through a ships store, I don’t have much use
for marinas. I got back on the Florida Turnpike, thinking that I could make
John Lloyd before they closed the park.
I pulled up to the John Lloyd gate at about 6pm. Knowing
that they closed at sunset, I told the guard that I planned to be out all
night. The guard said, “The park closes at 10:30. You and your boat will be out
of the park at that time.”
“OK”, I said. “But what happens if I don’t get back in
time?”
“You’ll be trespassing and the Coast guard will be
notified,” was the retort.
I paid the 4 bucks and entered, not knowing what I’d do when
it got to be 10:30. As I was launching, I talked to what appeared to be a local
boater, suggesting that on previous trips I had been out all night, and what
did he think about not leaving the park for the night. He said he too had
recently been out overnight, but things have changed and he wouldn’t recommend
it. After I got my boat in the water, I checked in at home using a public phone
at the ramp. I learned that my sister from Honolulu was in Miami at a
convention, also visiting her college daughter, and I should call her on her
cell phone.
Nat, my sister, was excited that I was so close and insisted
that I come by. I accepted, and put NICKY back on the trailer without ever
having taken her away from the dock. Nat had given me instructions to drive
back to Miami, then west to the Sofitel Hotel.
As mentioned, on a previous trip from Spartanburg to the
Keys, I had towed my smaller boat, a 16 footer through Miami on I95 with ‘Old
Green’ my 1972 Ford F100. I swore I’d never do it again, that’s why I had taken
the Florida Turnpike in both directions past Miami. Keeping with my “No I95”
philosophy, I headed down 441 to Miami, but after white knuckling through 5
miles of narrow 1 lane construction, I decided that I95 couldn’t be much worse.
The traffic on I95 was as bad as ever, but with my new-to-me 1998 F150 (I call
her Mary Kay, because she’s a champagne color) and brakes on this trailer, even
though the traffic was a mad house, I had a very tolerable trip through Miami.
It’ll be a toss up next time, I may use I95.
I found my sister’s hotel easily, it was right across from
the airport, outlined in neon against the dark sky. The parking lot had a
security guard. I felt comfortable leaving my rig parked conspicuously in the
back row. I met Nat and niece Jesse in the lobby. Jesse had brought Nat down
from North Miami and waited to say hi before returning to school.
My sister convinced the folks giving the seminar to invite
me to dinner. Great food, open bar, unbelievable dessert, mmmmm. What a
contrast to the cold cuts and hot dogs I’d been consuming. Nat convinced me to
stay the night, so I did. We parted ways early the next morning… I headed
north.
Old green didn’t have a radio, but Mary Kay does; even has a
cassette player. I had a Mamma Cass tape with me which I slid into the dash
when I was just south of Daytona. I played that tape all the way home. However,
I didn’t hear the same songs over and over. Each time the tape repeated, I
would put myself into a different musical place. It’s a literal execution of
the saying, ‘I really get into that music.’ Try it sometime…listen carefully,
then move your mind right in front of the vocalist – then don’t hear anything
else, just voice. Now go for the drummer – this was the most fascinating place
for me…the different sounds of the different drums, the percussion crescendos
and embellishments. Now do the bass, the guitar or the piano. What a trip. No I
don’t do drugs; boating makes me high.
There were many places along the way north that I might have
picked up a short detour to the ICW, but I didn’t have the urge. I did have the
urge however, to stop in Jacksonville for a visit with Bill Scheffield of
American Marine. Bill manufactures Shoal Cats - an 18' SHOAL CAT, 17'6" with an 83" beam, max HP
of 75 w/50 recommended -- weight capacity
1360 lbs., and a new 20' SHOAL CAT 20'
2" X 8' 4", max HP of 180, w/150 recommended --2500 lb. capacity.
These are Bill’s own designs. Bill is also a Honda dealer and a great resource
for Honda outboard questions. One day I’m going to talk Bill into taking me out
on one of his Shoal Cats. I asked about a place nearby to launch and Bill recommended
a boat ramp just a short distance from his shop, on the St Johns River. I drove
to the ramp, but found it entirely too congested due to the influx of hungry
folks converging on Clark’s Fish Camp next door. Next time through J’ville,
I’ll allow time for a meal at Clark’s, even if I don’t plan to put the boat in
the water.
As I was leaving the ramp, for some reason, I decided to try
I95 through Jacksonville. Like I95 in Maimi, I had ruled out I95 through
Jacksonville when, on a previous trip, I was doing fine pulling the trailer
through J’ville in the middle of the night in a narrow single lane construction
area, when a dump truck paralleling me on the shoulder began clipped cones,
knocking them into my path. Anyway, as I was approaching the center of the city
I switched off Mamma Cass for a spell to see if I could pick up a traffic
report on the radio. Sure enough, there had been a wreck on I295, two cars had
caught fire and traffic in both directions was at a standstill. This whole trip
had been that way - I just seemed to be in the right place at the right time…
When I cleared J’ville I began thinking about getting NICKY
back on the water. Maybe when I got back into SC, I’d go east on I26 and spend
some time in Charleston waters before heading home. But when I got to I26, I
went West. Then the light went on – Murray. If I could make it to Lake Murray,
I could splash and spend the night aboard there. Murray is a few miles above
Columbia and Columbia was 50 miles… Piece of cake.
It was after midnight when I got to my favorite Murray ramp.
The lake was so low the floating docks were all in the mud. I decided not to
launch – there are too many stumps in the shallow water, and it was dark. I
backed the trailer into the water so I could rinse off the salt, and run the
engine for a freshwater flush. After 10 minutes of running the engine, I pulled
the trailer out of the water, then backed it in, then pulled it out, then back
in, then out, to get as much salt off as possible. Then for some reason I took
off the tiedowns and put in the drain plug. [I always leave the drain plug out
when rinsing the trailer, a) so the trailer doesn’t float up with the boat
& b) so I can check the automatic operation of the bilge pump float]. I was
off the trailer, idling from the ramp out into deeper water by the light of the
moon is less than 10 minutes.
When I was in 35 feet of water, heading toward the center of
the lake, I opened her up. All systems responded predictably, but it seemed I
was barely moving. Not thinking to check the speed on the GPS, I shut her down
and raised the motor, maybe I’d picked up a plastic bag or something. But
everything was OK. I lit her up again, put her in gear and slid the throttle
forward. It still didn’t feel right, but when I looked down at the GPS I saw
the speed was over 35mph. There you go. A glassy fresh water lake compared to
salt water chop – what a difference. More comfortable now, I realized that if I
had the reflection of the full moon in a certain orientation, I could see the
tiny ripples zipping by in the calm lake, confirming that I was moving at a
good clip. I spent about 45 minutes playing, then returned to the ramp, idling
into the cove where I would anchor for the night. I threw out the hook and
raised the motor but before going below for the night I again had my
traditional time in the cockpit contemplating the aspects of boating that kept
me coming back for more.
The next morning, I was up before sunrise and got the coffee
water going. While the coffee singles were steeping, I lowered the motor in
preparation to get underway, but the back end of the boat rose up out of the
water. I went back to see what had happened, and there, plain as you please was
one of those stumps. It had to be three feet across with the motor skeg planted
firmly in the center. I raised the motor using the button on the cowl and the
boat settled just inches above the stump. I boat-hooked my way to clear water,
then lit her up and made my way back out into the lake, this time in the
daylight.
I spent a couple hours frolicking in the calm fresh water
before loading her up to cover the last 100 miles to the house.
Looking back, it was a great trip. I’ve gotta get back to
the Keys. A guy could spend a lifetime down that way without doing the same
place twice. I’d like to have my wife Suzy along next time too. She’s always
invited, but invariable there is something that keeps her from making the trip.
But she’s good about letting me go alone. Suzy is the main reason I write up
these log entries.
I noticed another interesting thing about this Keys trip.
Once NICKY was in the water, the only time I disembarked was to put her back on
the trailer. I never tied her up to go ashore. It just goes to show you how
much I enjoy being aboard.
Car miles – 1971
Car gas – 137.1
Boat miles – 287.1
Boat gas – 56.7
Engine hours – 27.3
