Miami to ??? (only Donnie knows for sure)

Had the alarm set for 6:45am; we weighed anchor at 7:00am.  We wanted to get an early start to the day, hoping to make it to Key Largo, if all goes well.  We had nine bridges to go through. Seven of them were fixed, so it seemed no problem.  We called for an opening at 8:00am and we’re told that the bridge was not opening until 9:30am.  We checked our Waterway Guide, thinking we had read something wrong.  Nope, it said “on signal (at request) from 7am-7pm on weekends and holidays.” When Donnie hailed the bridge tender a second time, a very unfriendly Hispanic voice said it would not be open until 9:30am as he was told previously.  A little dumbfounded, Donnie hailed him a third time, only to be gruffly told that the Miami Marathon was being run.  We dropped the hook, and sat….for an hour and a half.  So much for an early start. 

The Miami skyline was beautiful as the sun got higher in the morning sky.

The good news was while at anchor, Donnie swam under the boat to see how the temporary bolt was holding up.  Only a crank and a half with the socket wrench, and it seemed just fine. 

As we left Key Biscayne, heading out to the Atlantic to follow Hawks Channel down the Keys, we passed the stilt houses left from yesteryear.  At one time there was a whole colony of them, most sitting in two feet of water or less.  We’re told they are now government property, and they have been abandoned for years.  Tropical storms and hurricanes have destroyed all but six of them.  It made for an interesting photo. The Florida Channel Lighthouse is in the background.  It marks the southern-most place you can enter into Florida’s Key Biscayne with a well-marked, deep enough channel.  That’s where we “hopped off” to the Atlantic.

There’s a learning curve to this cruising thing…more to the relationship part of it between Cap’n and First Mate.  Nearly a steady two weeks of each other, and essentially only each other’s company, can stress even the best of relationships.  We (I) felt that stress today.  It seems there’s always something new to be learned about each other.  Cap’n likes to think of me as this adventuresome, spontaneous, go-with-the-flow kind of girl.  For the most part, that’s true, so long as there is a well-thought out, spelled-out plan to the adventure.  (I know, a contradiction to spontaneity!)  Just like Willis has gotten more comfortable with cruising (by sleeping under the pillow on the settee while the engine is on), I had also gotten comfortable with watching “road signs” (placards) and reading the map.  Cap’n laboriously spent an hour or two last evening going over charts, having out all of his measuring sticks, compass, and what not. (I obviously am not using the correct terminology here).  I took his diligent work at the chart table to mean that we had a plan for the day, about where we were going, how far away it was, how long it would take to get there, and where we would be staying.  I also thought the plan was to take on more fuel, pump out the head (as our ‘home’ is starting to smell like an outhouse), and fill the fresh water tanks, which were bone dry and we were down to just five bottles of water.  I thought that was the P-L-A-N.  Somewhere in the eagerness to get to the ocean and set the sail, that plan got abandoned.  By late afternoon, with hardly a road sign in sight all day, and a hot boat smelling like piss, I was OVER IT and I was ready to abandon ship myself.  I KNOW Cap’n would never have these types of conditions if he were running a charter for paying customers, and First Mate doesn’t rate even half as good?! Holy Cow, I was more pissed than the hot piss smell coming from down below.  Meanwhile, we were sailing in a pretty good chop, a bit rockin’ and rollin’ and I had no Bonine on board.  I was afraid to take the cat’s medicine, so I sipped on my Coke, let out a ridiculous amount of puke burps, and sailed on.  At least we were sailing.  It reminded me of the saying, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m making good time!”

With the main

and jib up, by

golly we're

sailing- on the

Atlantic Ocean,

no less!

The view of South Beach, Miami, as we headed out to sea. (without a plan)

By late afternoon, it was abundantly clear that there was not a clear plan for where we might anchor or pull in.  I mistakenly thought all this was worked out at the chart table the night before.  As we consulted our guide, we realized that most of the marina stops and anchorages are on the Gulf side.  I went down below and left Donnie to make the phone calls to various places looking for a place to land before hard dark.  We all know how well we do trying to find the markers, and a slip, well after dark.  Some woman took pity on Donnie and made some phone calls herself (as many marinas we’re even answering their phones).  She called back about twenty minutes later and said she got permission for us to pull in to Garden Cove, and tie up to the dock at Shipwrecks, so long as we ate dinner at their restaurant.  Things were looking up!  Navigating through the well-marked channel, we were still in just 4.5 feet of water- Welcome to the Keys!  I was just happy to pee in a REAL bathroom :)