We’ve spent the past few days exploring North Bimini, meeting fellow cruisers, trying to sort out a data and phone plan for the next month, and swimming in the azure sea.
There are two main roads on the island, Kings Highway on the eastern shore and Queen’s Highway along the bluffs of the western shore. They are actually cement roads one-and-a-half car widths wide with no sidewalks. Most residents ride around in electric or gasoline-powered golf carts as everything is no more than 3 miles away. There are small bodegas, two bakeries, conch shacks, bars, a hardware store, town offices, and a craft centre (closed at this time). There’s a Hilton resort and small casino that has changed hands 3 times in the past 15 years and still is a mess of a construction site at the northern end of the island. It’s the kind of laid back atmosphere where all the residents know each other (and many are related) yet they’re friendly to visitors, giving a nod or a bit of directional advice.
We were in search of a Bahamian SIM card for a phone and a router for data needs. We were told to see Loreen at Dolphin Electronics, about a half hour walk from the marina, after the big curve in the road. We asked 3 residents along the way if we were on the right track and they all looked at us blankly. They’d never heard of Dolphin Electronics. (We later found out that the store goes by a different name to locals.) Anyway, by the time we got there, the last router was sold (more coming on Wednesday) and we’d need to come back at 1:30 for a SIM card. So our short shopping trip turned into a most-of-the-day excursion. We’re on island time now, folks.
So we headed to Stuart Conch Stand, heralded for the best conch salad in The Bahamas and enjoyed the view over Porgy Bay.
With SIM card in hand, we walked up to the Queen’s Highway for a walk on the beach. Be forewarned, family and friends in New England, our daughter declares these photos are “evil.”
There have been times on this trip that I have doubted my own abilities and level of experience but each time I’ve placated my fears by telling myself, “Well, David will know what to do.” I liken it to an endless Trust Walk. When we left the Miami area at 5 a.m. on Friday morning (two hours before sunrise), I really had to breathe deeply and remind myself that he has years of experience as a pilot, flight instructor, off-shore sailor, and is comfortable sailing and flying by instruments. Me? OMG, I felt like I was jumping off into the abyss!!!
Seriously, that’s what it was like when we left. I was on the foredeck with a spotlight trying to figure out whether the light I saw in the distance was on top of a mast, on a fishing boat, a commercial vessel, an airplane, an angel—who knew?? Your sense of perspective goes wonky and your imagination goes wild. I thought of our trip to Machu Picchu some 35 years ago where the ancient Incan high priests held solstice ceremonies when the sun rose directly over the Intihuatana Stone or “hitching post of the sun” carved into the Andean granite of that remote outpost. Had I lived in a different era, I, too, surely would have worshipped the sun and it’s life-giving (and vision-giving) light!
The Bimini islands are only about 50 miles away from Miami. To put this in perspective, it’s about 45 miles across Massachusetts Bay from Boston to Provincetown. The big difference: The Gulf Stream. This massive, fast-moving, unseen river of warm water has taken on almost mythical proportions during our planning for it is one of the most powerful natural forces on the planet and must be reckoned with respect and awe.
It flows from the Caribbean basin, up the east coast of Florida to Cape Hatteras, all the way to Newfoundland and onto Europe. While Ponce de Leon first documented the strong current, it was actually Benjamin Franklin who first charted the Gulf Stream. Having an accurate chart of the current shaved days off the voyage times of ships back in the era of the slave/rum/molasses trade triangle as well as for commercial traffic today.
In the Straits of Florida between Fort Lauderdale and the Bahamas, the current is strongest and can reach speeds up to 5 knots. It is predictable in that it will be there, but the precise location and speed of the Gulf Stream changes daily. That’s why we poured over charts, graphs, weather and crossing reports, asked advice from other boaters, and set our course about 30 degrees south of where we wanted to end up because we would be pushed northward by the Gulf Stream as we traveled east.
The careful planning brought us safely to Blue Waters Marina in Alice Town, North Bimini, by about 2 p.m. As soon as we saw the clear aqua water, we knew we had made the right choice to leave Miami.
We were also reassured to know that everyone else we met from the states had tested negative for Covid and that the residents of the island took the pandemic seriously for they were all (as in ALL) wearing masks. Medical facilities are very limited in the Bahamas so the government requires all visitors to pay $60 for the Health Travel Visa which includes a health insurance policy that covers anyone who contracts Covid and an evacuation procedure for serious cases. We also need to take a second test in 5 days to confirm that we are still negative. And we have to fill out an online health survey every day for 14 days so that the authorities can track any symptoms or exposure we may have experienced. It all seems very reasonable and scientifically based to us.
Even in non-Covid times, a visiting vessel must fly the yellow “Q” or quarantine flag until the master of the ship has checked in through immigration and customs of the welcoming country. We have done this many times when we’ve chartered in the Caribbean. As captain, David is the only one who can leave the boat until we are “cleared in.” He takes everyone’s passports, visas, fees, etc., and usually spends a couple of hours filling out forms by hand in triplicate and then watches an administrator key the data in. I often wonder whatever happens to all that paper....When he returned to Onward, he raised the Bahamian courtesy flag. It’s the first time we have gone to a foreign country on our own boat. A moment to celebrate!
By late afternoon I was ready to finally break out the inflatable stand-up paddle board and get a little exercise. But then I saw this 9-foot bull shark coming by to visit the local fishermen as they cleaned their catch. I think I’ll avoid paddling around the marina! Tomorrow we’ll explore the island. On foot.
High-rises and palm trees lined the sugar sand beaches of southeastern Florida for miles and miles until we turned into Port Everglades, the entrance to Fort Lauderdale on Monday. If Palm Beach is all about golf and tennis, Ft. Lauderdale, the “Venice of America,” is all about huge motor yachts and canals lined with opulent homes. It’s difficult to capture the extravagance in photos. But, again, the natural beauty of the beach is what appeals most to me.
On Tuesday, on the way to Miami, we passed by Hollywood Beach. My parents had brought my brother David and me to live for two winters in Hollywood Beach back in the late 1950’s. My father’s plan was to work in Florida during the school year and then come back to West Boxford to run Benson’s Ice Cream in the summer months. I sent my brothers this photo of Hollywood Beach taken about a mile offshore. I doubt that the little 3-room bungalow they rented just off the beach is still there!
When we came to the entrance of the Port of Miami, David high-fived me—“WE DID IT!” We made it from Mattapoisett to Miami—almost 2000 miles!
Although “Miami” often conjures images of a long sandy beach, Art Deco hotels, Cuban sandwiches, and Latin music, (to name just a few) it is also a bustling port for cargo ships and hub for the cruise ship industry. We must have seen a dozen of the passenger behemoths at rest in the cruise ship terminals, biding their time until the pandemic can be tamed. We also got up close and personal with the container ships as we moved along the channel into Biscayne Bay.
Our destination for Tuesday and Wednesday was Dinner Key Marina on Biscayne Bay, just south of Miami. We were greeted by this friendly athlete—a member of the USA National Sailboarding Team. He makes it look so easy but as anyone who has ever tried it, boardsailing is really difficult!
We’re now in the land of tropical saltwater anchorages which bring their own delights and challenges. It was certainly the first time we’d seen this sign:
But it’s also the first time we’ve really been able to see the ocean bottom so clearly:
Here in Coconut Grove we took our first Covid tests (negative) and filed all the necessary forms for the next leg of our adventure. We’ve decided to go with Plan B and not continue to Key West. We have obtained our Travel Health Visas and are sailing on Friday to the island of Bimini in the Bahamas! Then it will be on to Nassau and finally south, hopping along the Exuma chain of islands. Our ability to communicate will be more limited but I'll try to keep posting on this blog as often as possible. We hope you’ll come along with us. Onward we go!
We stayed one more day in Hobe Sound, taking it easy and reading up on how best to time the 7 bridge openings we would need to pass through before reaching Palm Beach. I think we both agree that the passage on Sunday was the most nerve-wracking and anxiety-producing 20 miles (5 hours) of this entire trip. We were really, really, really glad that we’d be heading out to the Atlantic on Monday and far away from the ICW traffic that churned up the water like a Maytag.
Sunday’s travels took us along the western side of narrow Jupiter Island. The houses got larger and larger, and so did the “yachts in their backyards.”
(At first, I thought this was two houses. How silly of me.)
Just for kicks, I looked to see if there were any homes for sale. Turns out that the Jupiter Island Club is an extremely exclusive golf community but does have at least one residence on the market. For a mere $28,000,000 you, too, can decorate 13 bedrooms and clean 17 bathrooms...and hobnob with neighbors Tiger Woods and Celine Dion in your free time. Nice neighborhood.
Our anchorage was near the Lake Worth Inlet at Port Palm Beach and a bit busier than the two nights before up in Hobe Sound. There were marina and repair services for large vessels, including cruise ships, as well as a cement manufacturing plant that was lit up like a Christmas tree but fortunately was quiet by 8 p.m. Notice the white-roofed building on the shore (with no lights). That’s the Manatee Lagoon Educational Center. As we moved closer to the Center, a small patrol boat with a flashing blue light approached us and asked us to slow down (gee, we were only going 5 mph!) because “there are manatees everywhere around here.” We gladly cut back our engine and were well pleased to watch the officers approach every boat on the busy ICW, asking them to take caution and be on the look out to avoid disturbing the manatees.
West Indian manatees, also known as sea cows, are enormous aquatic mammals. The average adult male is about 10 feet long and 1000 pounds. They live in shallow, slow-moving waters such as quiet rivers, peaceful saltwater lagoons, and calm coastal canals from spring to fall. But in the winter they search for warmer water, heading to inland springs or even the heated outflow of power plants (and cement factories?).These slow moving giants are herbivores and, like all mammals, need air to breathe. They sleep about half the time but still surface to breathe even while dozing. They are protected by state and federal regulations, including the Endangered Species Act of 1973. We have yet to actually see one on this trip but they sure look prehistoric!
Ah, the Jupiter Island Club was only a prelude to the excess that is West Palm Beach, land of work-famous golf courses, oceanfront estates with sea walls and tiny strips of beach, Henry Flagler’s iconic hotel, The Breakers, (the photo below with two towers) and Mar-a-Lago. We took in the views from about a mile offshore, enjoying the freedom of the open air breeze and clear waters of southern Florida.
I’d been to West Palm Beach once before back in the spring of my senior year at Cornell. At one of our sorority chapter meetings, Joan invited “anyone who’d like to come” to West Palm for spring break. This was an offer too good to refuse! Some of us went to Disney World first for a few days, rented a car (how did we do that when no one was over 21??) and drove to Joan’s parent’s winter vacation home.
Now, when I had invited “anyone who’d like to come” to Boston for the Bicentennial the year before, I meant that there was room on our living room floor for anyone with a sleeping bag and their own pillow. Joan meant there would be an actual bed and for some, en suite accommodations. She also meant that when we came downstairs in the morning, the cook would make us breakfast as opposed to being handed a bowl and a box of Cheerios at my house. I remember thinking, hmm, I could get used to this.
Turns out the house had once belonged to William Randolph Hearst, had a ballroom, servant’s wing, and a fabulous pool surrounded by lush plantings. Starved for warm sunshine after a cold and depressingly gray Ithaca winter, we lounged by the pool for hours, devouring romance novels by the gulpful. Wondering if there might be a municipal tennis court nearby where we could go for a bit of exercise, I asked Joan’s mother about the plock, plock I heard in the background. “Hmm, I think that may be the Whitney’s on their court—or maybe the Doubledays. I could call and ask if you could come by for a game.” Since most of my tennis experience had been hitting a ball against the back wall of the Gardner Morse School, I quickly demurred and buried my head in another Barbara Cartland novel (probably The Earle Rings a Belle or The Kiss of Paris or In Love in Lucca or.....)
Our stay in Cocoa Village ended last Monday and since then we have traveled southward, continuing down the Indian River past Melbourne to Vero Beach and beyond. We had visited Melbourne briefly right after Christmas. I missed driving around neighborhoods adorned with Christmas lights back in Massachusetts so I suggested visiting the drive-through Space Coast Lightfest sponsored (and set up and managed) by local Boy Scout troops. It was awesome! We loved the 200-foot long “Light Tunnel” at the end of the 1.5 mile drive.
The next three days we spent at the Vero Beach municipal marina. We decided that if we spend time in this area next winter, we’d like to stay at Vero. It was so easy to walk to the beach, window shop the upscale boutiques, enjoy dinner outside, and dinghy to the grocery store. In non-Covid times, we would like to visit the art museum and the Riverside Theatre, all within walking distance of the marina. There were many incredibly well-maintained parks for walking, areas for paddle-boarding and kayaking, and protected habitats to explore. We understand why so many cruisers call it “Velcro Beach”—it’s hard to leave!
But we want to keep moving where it’s warmer so we continued past Fort Pierce and Jensen Beach. We made the decision to stay on the ICW rather than go out to the Atlantic at St. Lucie Inlet so that meant we had to cross the busy St. Lucie River at the “Crossroads.” Just imagine 5 major waterways coming together with boats going in 10 directions, trying to avoid shoaling areas, battling currents and cross currents and waves—it was crazy! We were quite relieved to reach our destination. We dropped the anchor opposite Jupiter Island across from the Hobe Sound National Wildlife Refuge. The natural wilderness to the west contrasted strikingly with the manicured lawns and elaborate architecture of the mansions on the eastern shore. But nothing could compare to nature’s own beauty:
Much of the time we spend on the boat is pretty boring. We do the same things you do at home—cook, clean, vacuum, wash our clothes, hire a diver to scrape any barnacles off the hull, replace the carbon brushes on the bow thruster, fix the water leak (the pipes run under our bed)—you know the drill.
But then there are other times when we go exploring. Cocoa Village dates back to the late 1800’s when Flagler’s railroad brought carloads of tourists and settlers to the area and hauled Indian River citrus fruit back up north. Although most of the architecture is Spanish-influenced, some of the oldest homes in the area reminded me of the cottages on Martha’s Vineyard (alright, except for the palm trees).
But Cocoa Beach, located 8 miles east on Merritt Island, is where the boogey-boarding, sun-bathing, and surfing action is! Ron Jon’s flagship store (all 52,000 square feet!) is the L.L. Bean of Cocoa Beach—open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I think that it must have been designed by one of Disney’s Magic Kingdom architects:
In the heyday of the space program in the 1960’s, Cocoa Beach was the east coast home of the NASA astronauts. They lived in Cocoa while training at nearby Cape Canaveral, the other major attraction in the area. Some of the mid-century designed hotels (now condos) still line the beachfront, sporting names like the Apollo Inn, and the Saturn Hotel. We watched several SpaceX launches from the balcony of the marina but one evening Sarah, David and I climbed into my little Mini Cooper and bopped all over Merritt Island looking for an “up close and personal” view of the lift-off. We felt like the guys who drive around like crazy trying to chase tornadoes in the movie Twister! But our efforts were rewarded—what a thrill to see the Falcon rocket send a Turkish communications satellite out into orbit.
I think sometimes the word “Florida” conjures up a vision of a concrete jungle of strip malls, amusement parks, high-rise condos, endless 6-lane highways, and over-built housing developments. But truly there is a surprising amount of land and waterways that have been protected from “economic progress.” Many people don’t see these wilderness reserves because they are mostly accessible only by foot or by water—which works quite well to keep humans away so animals can live naturally. Merritt Island is home to one such National Wildlife Refuge, side-by-side with the technological wonders of the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral.
Another of our adventures involved a 5-mile hike through protected lagoons, marshlands, saltwater estuaries, scrub habitat, and freshwater impoundment streams. The 140,000 acre refuge is strategically located on the Atlantic Flyway, a major bird migration corridor. We arrived in the late afternoon and saw large numbers of osprey, anhinga, heron, egret, ducks, wigeons and teals. I’d highly recommend a visit if you have any interest in birding.
We were especially taken by the roseate spoonbills. The first time we saw them in the air, we thought they were flamingoes! They are a gorgeous shade of pinky coral and have an enormous wingspan reaching up to 4 feet. Up close you can see their paddle-shaped bills and bright red eyes. Wading in shallow water, they sweep their bills back and forth like a spatula, scooping up the crustaceans and small fish that in turn contribute to their rose-colored feathers. (I did not take this photo.)
So we traipsed along the trail for four hours as the sun slowly set over the Indian River, sending golden rays over the marshes and lagoons. It truly was lovely.
But we couldn’t help but notice the old scat on the pathway. At first we groused, :why don’t people pick up after their dogs?” But a pattern began to emerge. The scat was always dead center on the path and about the same distance apart. We suspected that it might be something more worrisome than a duck. But what? Florida has two large cats—the Florida panther (or puma or cougar) and the bobcat. I’ve since learned that there are only 200 panthers left in the wild (mostly around Lake Okeechobee) but lots of bobcats widely distributed around swamps and hammock land (yup, just like the area we were walking through). Let’s just say that we picked up the pace a bit as our imaginations ran wild and the sun dipped further in the west. We scurried back to the safety of the car.
Our final visit to the National Refuge was to Playalinda beach, close by the NASA launch pads. It was a cool, blustery day but there were folks out fishing on the deserted beach and a few children played in the surf.
The pinnacle “safari” experience of our time in Cocoa has to be the second trip we took down the barge canal. I don’t think I will ever tire of watching this truly “up close and personal” video:
Sarah’s drive down from DC was supposed to take 12 hours. It turned into a 2-day adventure since the car wouldn’t start again after she bought gas in the teeming metropolis of Walterboro, SC, population 5,477. A friendly fellow traveler tried to jump start the car but the problem wasn’t a dead battery. Instead, it appeared to be a rusted out starter that would need replacement. It being a Sunday and South Carolina, no service stations were open nearby so David got on the phone and tried to track down the needed part from a local auto parts supplier, hoping that would speed the process along once a repair service could be contacted Monday morning. God bless Angie at AutoZone who ordered the part for delivery by 10 a.m. Monday and recommended John at Advantage Towing for the repair. She even gave John’s cell phone number to David. Meanwhile Sarah checked into a motel across the street from the gas station, carried all her belongings there (a number of people offered to help—this is the South, after all) and hoped for a better day on Monday.
David called Advantage Towing at 8 a.m. on the nose. He quite obviously woke John out of a sound sleep. Rather groggily, John asked, “Didn’t Angie tell you we’re closed on Sunday and Monday?” (Oh, dear, not a good way to start the conversation.) “So, all right, is this an emergency?” he asked resignedly. David gulped, “Ah, yes, sort of,” and proceeded to tell him the situation. Donning that renowned Southern air of chivalry, John assured us “Now, don’t ya’ll worry folks, we’ll take care of your girl and get her back home to you soon’s we can. Just give me a while to shower and have my coffee and I’ll be back in touch.” (And that’s when you know you’re not in Massachusetts any more, ha ha!)
When the repair was completed, John picked up Sarah at the motel in his Ford truck, complete with gun rack and Trump stickers and drove her (“down roads with no street signs into a dense forest—Mom, I thought, where on earth is this guy taking me???”) to his “shop” which was next to his personal junkyard or old cars and rusted equipment surrounded by chain link and electric fences—right out of an episode of Ozark. But the repairs were successful and she set off again down Rte. 95, bound for Florida. We were SO glad to see her!
I think Sarah’s initial vision of living for a few weeks in Florida included lots of sunshine, gently swaying palm trees, quiet evenings enjoying dinner in the cockpit of the boat and warm days at the beach.
Well, at least there was sunshine.
She did try to work from the boat the first week she was here. One morning she was on a conference call with the World Bank’s World Director for Land Use and Disaster Relief. She thought there would be many people on the call and that she’d be OK just listening out on the dock (while looking for dolphins) but it turned out there were only 6 participants. Then the Director asked that everyone turn on their video. She quickly came back to the boat so it would look more professional. With all the gauges and switches that surround our chart table (her desk), someone texted her from the Philippines during the call—“Are you on a submarine???”
We soon got down to the serious business of Christmas preparations. David and Sarah figured out how to rig lights up and down the mast. We felt very festive with all our decorations!
She and I had a fun time making and decorating Christmas cookies to share with others at the marina. She also built a gingerbread house covered in candy, a long-standing Antos holiday tradition.
Christmas morning was downright cold in the boat. It had gotten down to 40 degrees overnight which doesn’t sound bad except we are basically living in an uninsulated tin can. We have a small space heater but Sarah, dressed in her down coat, suggested we needed a wood fire to really warm things up. David and I were quite surprised to realize that she meant it:
Daytime temperatures the week between Christmas and New Year’s slowly climbed from the 50’s up to 80. Now that we had the use of a car, we took off for the beach on the warm days, burying our noses in the books we had given each other as gifts. Somebody even made a sand snowman! All in all, a most unusual Christmas but we felt blessed to spend it together.
You know that feeling when you finally admit to yourself that you should have been working on your term paper way, way earlier than today? Yup. So how do I capture 6 weeks at a dock in Cocoa Village in just a few paragraphs? Here goes:
In my last post I shared some photos of Cocoa Village and tried to convey the funky, artsy, and laidback feeling of the town center. There is a lot of civic pride in Cocoa—we enjoyed watching the Space Coast Marathon (Florida’s oldest marathons and a qualifier for Boston) from the end of the dock:
Although the town’s waterfront park and docks were decimated by Hurricane Irma in 2018, they have since been rebuilt (with FEMA funds) and provide welcoming access to all traveling the Banana River and landlubbers alike. Hundreds of spectators (few with masks—this is Florida, after all) came out to see the Christmas Tree Lighting, Holiday Boat Parade, the Bicycle Parade, and the 40th Annual Art & Craft Fair. We truly appreciated being able to walk to all of these family-oriented events since we didn’t have access to a car until December 14.
We did have access to Upward, our 10.5’ inflatable dinghy. Inspired by the lighted boat parade, we drove it across the river and walked to Home Depot to purchase Christmas boat decorations. Gotta have a Christmas tree and wreath and lights, right??
One afternoon we drove the dinghy north about 5 miles, went under the bridge that leads to Port Canaveral (home to Disney’s now dormant cruise ships) and headed down the Canaveral Barge Canal. Originally constructed to allow transport of crude oil by barge to the enormous two power plants in Titusville, the canal crosses Merritt Island from the Indian River (where we are) to the Banana River and then through a set of locks to the Atlantic Ocean. We only went as far as the Banana River but were treated to some pretty spectacular wildlife sitings—a kingfisher, a rather large alligator, and some dolphins:
We definitely wanted to share this with Sarah when she arrived. Later tonight I’ll share more of the adventures we had with her in Part 2 of this post.
