MOVING ON

Lake Boca, FL 26º20.684N | 80º04.420W

When we are in one place for more than a few days, a real lethargy seeps into my bones, the longer the stay, the deeper it seeps. At some point, natural law takes over, and inertia seems to turn up the gravity under my feet. Even the boat gets sluggish, weighted down, the bottom, the rudder and the prop start looking like a dang chia pet. The anchor chain grows heavy with slimy green algae. I guess that's what happens to my psyche: it gets green slime all over it. Ick.

It takes real focus to shake it off and get underway again, but I have to admit, I'm an addict, completely hooked on a drug called 'movement.'

Moving the boat a few hundred yards is enough for my drug-of-choice to kick in, filling me with energy, hope, optimism, industriousness, adrenaline, creativity. Any lingering lethargy is left behind with the algae in that slimy patch of water. Everything's fresh again.

Before getting underway, we put the boat in order, stowing loose objects, getting out the tools of piloting, raising and securing the dinghy. When all these minor chores are done, it's like having a packed suitcase by the door with your passport sitting on top. It reeks of readiness and the promise of adventure.

The pouring rain in Fort Lauderdale could not deter us this morning. I raised the anchor with my slicker on, hosing a month of slime off the chain as it rolled in. The anchor came onboard with a glorious CLANK. I do love that sound. Chip pointed the bow north.

We're excited to visit great friends and destinations along the Florida coast on our way to Georgia, where we'll keep the boat safe from hurricanes for the season.

Our first stop tonight, Lake Boca, is a lovely spot where I only ran aground twice (!)(really just kisses) trying to enter. And with the anchor down, the ultimate reward of traveling by boat kicks in. The rain has moved offshore leaving us a perfect, cool evening ahead, energized and content from a day of travel, and we never left home! Our beautiful house is right downstairs -- no suitcase required.

Enjoying my last New Mexico treat.

WE THREE

Lake Sylvia, Fort Lauderdale, FL

Land life certainly has its creature comforts, but after a few days, the land feels terribly stationary, the air dry, my feet restless.

What a rich feeling coming home to Chip and Cara Mia. I am wealthy indeed. 

We are sluggish, we three, and ready to get moving, north for now. Cara Mia is expected in Brunswick, Georgia, for hurricane season; Chip and I have a date with Paris June 19th.

Mother Nature has decided to kick up a fuss offshore, forcing us to meander up the ICW. No worries. No hurry. First stop: Lake Boca.

Goodnight, Lake Sylvia, goodnight.

UNDER ONE ROOF

From New Mexico

My Aunt Hazel here in New Mexico asked me the other day if we had a way of covering up our household belongings when it rained. I guess she thinks we live on a Tom Sawyer raft, but that's my fault, isn't it? I clearly haven't done a good job of describing our boat or living quarters.

Yesterday my sister brought over a jigsaw puzzle, and everyone was surprised to hear that I do puzzles onboard. "You have enough room to do a puzzle???"

Well, bad for me.

Here's some proof, if not flattering proof, that we can do puzzles onboard:

Puzzling on Bell Island with Karen & Dale from Jessie Marie.

We can entertain guests:

Our kids with Chip's parents, Nancy & Ted.

They're being affectionate, not crowded.

We have entertained as many as eight guests below (in the living room/kitchen) without feeling too cozy.

We have room to make our guests do chores:

Remi & Casey doing chores in the Exumas.

We have a full kitchen where we can both work at the same time:

This is an old photo. I promise another one soon.

Three burner stove, double sink, big refrigerator and freezer.

We have a beautiful bedroom with a queen-size bed:

We have a complete bathroom with sink, toilet and shower, and another bedroom with a queen-size bed -- and it is all covered by a roof!

I realize that by land standards, this is very tight quarters, but for a cruising sailboat, it is quite spacious.

And our backyard is spectacular.

LAUDERDALE'S WARM EMBRACE

Fort Lauderdale, FL

The other day during our exciting transit of the East River, I was grumbling about not feeling all that welcome in Fort Lauderdale.

That evening at our anchorage I looked out to see a small yellow powerboat anchored just off our port side and shouted a simple 'hello.' That's how it all started.

Yesterday morning, we heard a tap-tap on the hull. Meet Bob of the yellow powerboat.

Meet Bob.

He had come bearing a sailboater's frankincense and myrrh: a 40-pound bag of ice (huge) and a 12-pack of beer. Really? Geez, thanks, Bob. Come over later.

Thus we became part of the family of Bob, his wife Etel, John, Lily, Paul and Sherry plus two dogs in bags. They rafted up to Cara Mia, this time bearing a whole case of beer and plate after plate of food, which they ate very little of and then insisted that we keep. Enough food and beer to send our marine refrigerator into a 24-hour recovery frenzy.

Then they insisted that we come aboard for a joy ride around the very busy weekend waterways of Fort Lauderdale, stopping at a bar where we met Gabriele from Venezuela, who drew us a cocktail napkin map of the best sailing spots in his country and subsequently bought us a round of drinks.

Etel and her doggies visit Cara Mia.

I had a chat with Etel once we were rafted up again to Cara Mia. Her family fled political unrest in Nicaragua when she was young, taking refuge in Honduras. Her parents sent her to Guatemala alone to attend a girls' boarding school, then to Mexico for college. In her twenties, she came to the U.S. alone seeking political asylum. She lived for two years in San Diego before moving to Fort Lauderdale, again on her own, where she met Bob. Her five siblings still live in Honduras, and her parents have been able to return to Nicaragua and reclaim their property.

Etel is a sweet and inspiring reminder of how very much we take for granted.

Bob, the self-appointed aquatic emissary of Fort Lauderdale, insisted that we must come visit his home, was offended that we might not spend the night (or two) and promises to come hang out again today with Venezuelan Gabriele in tow.

He pressed me for a grocery list, so he could bring us a 'few things,' but I refused (several times).

After we waved goodbye and they motored off, I said, "What's in this bag?" It was a plate of fresh calamari.

Welcome to Fort Lauderdale!

OFF WE GO!

Coconut Grove, Miami, FL 25º43.532N | 80º14.193W

Is this too close? Tight quarters on the mooring balls in Coconut Grove.

Coconut Grove released us in only nine days, a record for us. Fort Lauderdale calls -- and beautiful conditions for an offshore sail.

We attempted to outsmart the wind and tides to get a smooth trek through both inlets, 20 miles apart. With a little math, we decided to slip out Government Cut early afternoon, shooting for the Fort Lauderdale inlet at slack tide around 6.

I got my ponytail on...

...and then drove through the gauntlet of Miami traffic to the inlet, where Chip's sister Bonnie was finally at her condo to see us pass.

Bonnie looking at us:

Us looking back:

She's on the 17th floor.

And then we headed into a beautiful day of sailing with flat, calm seas and light wind from the EAST! (We were headed north/northeast.) When I daydream about sailing offshore, it's exactly like this. Unfortunately they are rare as a flattering swimsuit.

We took our time and relished every second, although I did fall down once. ? The sea was so calm, I let my guard down. I was standing in the cockpit taking this picture:

A random little wave sent the boat rolling once, and the cockpit bench just jumped up to meet me. I caught myself with my arm and wrenched my shoulder and neck. Oops. My bad. The photo kind of makes the point about how silly it was to fall on this day.

We sailed the whole way and reached Fort Lauderdale just a wee bit early, but the inlet was smoooooth. The only bridge we had to go under was a little tight for comfort, but the bridge tender was enjoying rush hour, and asked us to have a go.

Our height is 55' plus antennas.

I watched nervously as we passed under, but I always think we're going to hit, even if there's 65' of clearance.

See what I mean?

We ghosted on skinny water and anchored in beautiful Lake Sylvia.

Get to Fort Lauderdale. Done.

Our swanky new neighborhood.