PART I – Key West to Tennessee

—  While your subconscious has all of the information and knows exactly what to do in the present situation, your habitually formed conscious mind starts looking for reasons to stifle your urge.  Whether it be a hot chick that just walked by and your hive mind just conferred with hers or an inanimate object that you want to pick up because the energy signature resonating through the universe was just right, you talk yourself out of doing what your body and mind already know is correct and logical.  This is called rationalizing.  We are told it is a necessary defense mechanism, but I find it an inconvenient obstacle between me and what I really want.  It feels like a socialistic leech, draining my energy so that I’ll never be 100% free, happy, or complete.  The minor pains of finding out the hard way are vastly eclipsed by the blanket protection scam that ultimately enslaves you.  —

I tell Jeff, “I’m in.  We leave in 2 weeks.”  This was a week ago when we first left Miami.  

I am helping Steve get settled in Key West for another week and then I’ll make my way up to Jupiter where Jeff lives.  We have some really good days and the mood stays at the tone of “Well, it’s been a hell of a trip.”  

We need a job, because at the time we had an increasingly meager supply of Ramen left and no means of replenishing it.  After walking around the island for several hours in an attempt to clean someone’s boat for cash, I decided that insurance and fear would not allow fruition.  I needed a job job.  So the next morning, I walk into a restaurant that is under construction and ask to speak with the foreman.  He’ll be here at 8:00am.  Ok, I have a half hour to burn, so I look for something to do.  I help unload a truck full of fans and lights.  Someone directs me to the back to help scrape a floor.  A gentle giant with the name Big Brian becomes my immediate supervisor even though I don’t officially work there.  We are cleaning mortar and glue off of an old tile kitchen floor.  I don’t mind the work.  It’s better than walking around looking for work.  When the Mingo, owner of Mingo Construction, shows up, he asks me who I am.  “Hey, I was waiting to talk to you, but I’m not good at standing around, so I started helping people.  I want to work for you.”  Mingo tells me to keep doing what I’m doing and to fill out an application later.

Bike week at Key West.  Pretty wild time.

Later that evening, I receive a small sum of money in my account from an old pending transaction so we are good on cash until Steve gets paid.  

This journey started as an opportunity that I couldn’t pass on.  Occasionally, everyone finds certain things where they just can’t help themselves.  It could be to briefly stop and watch an interview of their favorite athlete on a TV they are walking past.  Or a breakthrough in wireless technology that makes someone leave their teaching job to go do research.  Throughout my adolescent and adult life, I have spent so much time and effort on putting together travel expeditions, that when one is haphazardly put in my path, I have to drop everything and go.  If I didn’t, there would be a number of nights lying in bed wondering what my life could be like.

It seems like they are saying you can’t hitchhike, but this just says you can’t do it while standing in the middle of the road.  On the shoulder is fine and the 30 or 40 cops that passed me didn’t seem to mind.  It was highly unsuccessful as I got 2 rides in 5 hours for a whopping total of about 30 miles.  I walked about 15.  So I jumped on a bus and began an overnight trip through Miami and Palm Beach.  I meet Jeff about 24 hours after I started.

 

Mickey, we had a hell of a time.  Marcia, those green beans were exquisite.  Tell Doc thanks for the drinks and letting us jump off his boat.

We have a map.  We have a creeper van.  We have 8 to 10 thousand miles of nicely paved roads which we will use for our own selfish entertainment.  You are welcome to join us of course.  After saying hello to people in Savannah and grabbing another guitar, we drive to Atlanta to drop off a book on Tesla (thank you Molly) and say what’s up to White-dog.  Nostalgic feelings of love and hate tingle my upper spine as we weave through Atlanta’s crazy ass roads.  Memories everywhere I look.  

There is something else I have to take care of while I’m here.  Something that’s been on the corner of my mental desk since July.  Unfortunately, sometimes you have to tackle tasks that are not of the light-hearted nature.  I’ve seen a couple of intense situations in my life, but in terms of depth and daunt, this undertaking is very serious:

Krispy Kreme vs. Sublime Donuts

Microsoft Word doesn’t even acknowledge Krispy Kreme as a valid word; that’s how old school it is.  Of course Dunkin Donuts was not even offered cheap seats tickets to this event mainly because they are a coffee shop that just happens to sell bottom shelf, dry, tasteless, pride-less, sad excuses for a pastry.  Everyone knows a 3-day-old Krispy Kreme is preferable to a fresh Dunkin. 

While Krispy Kreme has some key flavors that have stood the test of time, Sublime maintains taste patents to current and ever growing cultural flavor manifestations.  Oreo, Butterfinger, Reese’s, and let’s not forget the Orange Dream Star.  Sublime Donuts is half tattoo parlor, half donut shop.  Where else can you see your local tatted up skin heads working at the break of dawn?  Their company mission statement is to be requested as someone’s last meal on Death Row.  If you think about it, that is the highest award in culinary arts.  The Orange Dream Star is note-worthy.  It deserves a platinum statue of the donut being held in the air by Cupid with Bob Barker and Chuck Norris reaching for it. 

The bread is a little thick at Sublime, close to the consistency of Outback Steakhouse pumpernickel.  Krispy Kreme has it perfect, because I think donuts are a class of their own and should be baked as such.  Not like a Danish or cinnamon roll or Debbie cake, but like a donut.  When you bite into a Krispy Kreme, your brain doesn’t register that you are sinking your teeth through a doughy, crispy bread, it says, “mmmmmmm…donut…”  The flavor of the frosting matches the consistency of the entire food entity so that the sensation of taste and touch are muddled in a hazy fog of good feelings.

The chocolate frosting on a Custard filled KK glazed donut tastes like a slightly bitter candy that an old lady would give on Halloween that’s been in the back of her pantry since before the Cold War.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s good, I’m just trying to illustrate how old school the flavor is.  KK sticks to the basics and doesn’t bow down to the customer suggestion box unless it says, “Do whatever you want!”

Sublime is a little more alternative and because of its liberal nature, has discovered great new flavors.  The Orange Dream Star is a kick in the mouth, tangy, orange sensation of virulent freedom, filled with a smooth white cream that puts your buds on a magic marshmallow blanket and flies you through a drunken paradise where it rains feathers.  Really, it tastes good.

In summation I would put a KK regular frosted that has come straight off of the assembly line up against an Orange Dream Star.  They are each glorious in their own unique way, and reach an overall score of “Way better than anything else you have ever put in your unworthy mouth!”  If the Krispy Kremes are more than a day old, I’d have to give it to Sublime Donuts.  Next time you’re in Atlanta, check ‘em out.

—  Stress is there for the release?  Jeff and I ponder the idea that we stress ourselves out just so we can have a culmination and let it all out through rage or another powerful emotion.  Maybe the release has other health benefits.  —

After a night visiting Jeff’s friends in Greenville and Spartanburg, we drive through NC and the Smoky mountains to Boompa’s house.  He and Scott, an old co-worker are the last of the people we wanted to see, at least for a while.  Scott grills us some awesome brats and hooks us up with some movies on tape.  Perfect for driving through the desert because they are old westerns.  With no place to be and no one to see, the trip is really going to begin.  No plans other than drive North and then West.  In the morning we keep the sun on the right side of the van.  After noon, we keep it on the left.

—  This blog is taking waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too long to put together.  I am open to suggestions.  I will explore switching to a different blog site that makes putting it together faster and better.  I literally spend at the minimum 6 hours per post, after all the writing is done and pictures are taken.  —

Apparently whining is a side effect of being back on land.

We finally get some fish on the boat.

Candy that tastes bad is a good thing to have on the boat.  Good for cravings and you don’t wipe out the food supply every time you get hungry.

BAD MOOD

Ok, I am in one of those moods today and don’t want to write this.  I haven’t been able to rebalance myself for about 2 days now and the feud with Femi has been going on now for about a week.  Other than getting mad at me first, he really hasn’t done anything wrong.  I just don’t like the guy right now.  I’ve got specific reasons, but basically he doesn’t line up with my values.  We did resume communication after 4 days of silence after I paid him back for groceries.  I have a new understanding of the phrase ‘Money talks’.

The boat seems as if it is getting in worse shape.  Today, the main radio is not working properly.  The bridges cannot hear us, and everything sounds broken on this end.  The boat is pretty gross.  Really gross.  The cushions are all deteriorating with the rest of the interior.  When I’m in a good mood I can overlook all of the cosmetics and messiness, because the goal is to get to Key West, not to have a sparkling boat that never leaves the harbor.  Unless I had 4 OCD crew members, I couldn’t do both without going crazy.  Besides, Dubi isn’t gonna pick up after himself.

I wonder if I am crazy because I can’t stand to be around the same people for too long, as is also proved by my dating record.

Now, I’ve got to practice what I preach and not worry about things that don’t matter or are out of my control.  In the words of DZ, “Ask yourself, is this gonna change your life?  If not, don’t worry about it.”

So, today, I will search for something that makes me excited.  I’m contemplating fixing some things on the boat or taking Mickey’s suggestion and riding a bicycle around Ft. Lauderdale.

FT. LAUDERDALE

The suburbs are not unbearable.  Instead of the nuclear family, it’s full of nuclear vacation homes.  Except every mansion and sub-mansion does not look the same.  The streets are ALL water and instead of kids, each home has 2.3 yachts.  It’s something to behold.

We are dropping the hook in Lake Sylvia to explore the city.  The anchor does not set very well and the boat keeps drifting in the wrong direction.  At this point I am about to jump out of my skin because I can’t stand to be on the boat another minute.  I debate just jumping off and swimming to shore.  I ask Steve, “Where do you want the boat?”  He points and I jump in the water to manually swim-push the boat to the correct orientation.  After a minute and a half of treading water and pushing the 6,000lb boat, I’ve got it just where Steve wants it.  I look up and Steve is pulling the anchor line, which undoes everything I just did!  I climb on the boat and am speechless.  I can’t even look at him.  I do some Spanish lessons on Rosetta Stone to cool off and then Femi and I take the dinghy to shore.  Steve wants to stay on the boat.

After we paddle under a really low bridge, we park at the other side.  Femi and I still aren’t talking and I think we are going to split up and explore FTL independently.  I am thinking the same thing I’ve thought all morning: Why am I putting up with this shit?  I am not enjoying life.  Do I leave or tell Femi to leave?  We are so close to the end.

I start to think Femi is a balancing mechanism to keep Steve and I from killing each other.  Just have to make it another week and then I can make a change.  I look for a convenient store towards downtown and before I realize, Femi and I are talking.  We talk about a runner or car jumping over the bascule (like two draw bridges for boats to pass through) bridge as it rises.  We walk around the city all day and meet some cool people.

Innovative creep-mobile.

No one knows what Dubi’s doing.

Thank you Isabella for the conversation at the art gallery, Natalie for the day-work info, and Emily for the art she makes.  Femi and I chill at Colee Hammock Park for a couple hours and have some deep sociological discussions.  Femi believes people should be able to discuss political and religious differences.  I realize that even though Femi and I have some different views, we share enough values to enjoy one another’s company.

When we head back on the dinghy, the low bridge is now much lower.  The tide rose a couple feet and we barely scrape underneath, contorting our bodies and pushing off the ceiling instead of paddling.  Steve has been on the boat for about 9 hours, but we come bringing General Tso’s chicken from a Chinese restaurant.  Tension has subsided.

I’m wired and it’s hot on the boat.  I read about Nikola Tesla in the cockpit until about 2AM and sleep under a towel.  The rain wakes me up just before the sun comes up and I relocate to the vee berth.  Steve and Femi start motoring just after dawn and I am awake.  The mood is good.  We head the last 20 miles to Miami.

MIAMI

Around 1PM, we pass under the final bascule bridge.  We passed under 82 bridges – in Florida alone.

We dropped the hook just north of Watson Island, across the water from Miami.

The next couple days is playtime J  The next island is Key Biscayne, the start of the Florida Keys.  As the sun is setting, we find ourselves in the oldest bar in Miami, Tobacco Road.  Cool place with 2 stages and 2 live bands (one sets up while the other is finishing).  Steve and I split a delicious South of the Border Burger with guac and chili on top.  Femi’s cousin picks us up and we go to some bars by the water.  Frozen margaritas = wasted.  Couple more bars and we paddle the dinghy back around 4AM.  It is evident that the people who tied the dinghy to the boat were drunk.

The hangover is pretty intense and we finally make it off the boat around 2 in the afternoon to go to South Beach.  Steve says the number of beautiful women he has seen in his life doubled today.  I’m so tired when I get back to the boat I pass out and Femi can’t wake me up.  He really couldn’t.

I wake up and Steve and I have the first real conversation in over 3 weeks.  We talk about our lives and minds and end up in really good moods.  We swim, drink rum, and are so deep in conversation that we are constantly rolling cigarettes.  The guitars come out and Steve has the idea to post up somewhere with a sign that says FREE LESSONS.  We head to the beach.

The first person to give us lessons is a 20 year old jazz student.  We give a couple more lessons and meet Sascha, a German dude backpacking America.  He slept on the beach last night, so I offer him a boat bed and a ride to Key West.  Femi may or may not do a ride share in a Smart Car to Savannah, but with only 3 more days or traveling, we can afford the space of another passenger.

Maggie and Shawn are awesome.  I felt awkwardly hurried because I wanted to leave Miami today.  We are still waiting to find out if Femi’s ride is gonna come through.  I started charging my phone in a bar and started talking to the bartender and his girlfriend.  My mood turned around quickly and I relaxed in the bar all afternoon, talking about the restructuring of the education system in the U.S. (she’s a 6^th grade English teacher) and the battle between new and old school thinking.  I feel better about the future of this country after talking to her.  The situation is immensely complex, but they are taking logical steps.  Looks like we are hitting the Keys tomorrow morning.  Pot luck at the Yacht Club included an amazing tangerine dip with chips and Guy bought us two rounds (we accepted one) and invited us to dinner he was grilling after hearing we sailed from NYC on a 27.

Dinner was awesome.  It was a potluck at the Yacht Club.  Grilled filet, tenderloins, sausage, chicken, fried zucchini with tzatziki sauce, mac’n’cheese, potato salad with bacon (get or make this!), and chips with two homemade dips.  The first dip was hummus, and the second at a glance looked like imitation crab meat, but was actually a fluffy tangerine and whipped cream concoction.  (Look up a recipe for this, also!)  It was sweet, good, perfect.  Guy never asked if we were hungry, he just said, “Eat.”  Based on his experiences, (he moved boats for 8 years and has been sailing for at least 20) I think he could tell we had an appetite.  

When we finished our plates, he walked by our table on the outdoor patio next to the pool and told us to clean up.  “Whatever’s left, you take with you.”  After our 3^rd plate, we were absolutely stuffed.  He walked back to our table with a few bags of leftovers and told us if we are back in Miami to look him up and “We’ll figure something out.”  Cool dude.

We walked along the highway to help digest the 4 pounds of meat we just ate and to see one of Invader’s (globally known graffiti artist in Miami last week) tags.  It gives me a sense of freedom to see well done graffiti.  No politics involved, just pure, simple, enjoyable art.  Sascha took the bus to the beach to get post cards.

We headed back to the bar in the Yacht Club and waited for Shawn to close the place.  We invited him to hang out on the boat for a while.  If we make it to Key West by Friday, he’ll have bar-backing work lined up for us.  Shawn blew my mind with his humble finesse and sharp reactions.  The dude is really, really bright and threw some serious philosophical bombs in my ear without blinking.  He’s one of those people that just looks past, through, or around what most of us see.  I haven’t man-crushed that hard since Fernandina.  When Sascha came back from the beach around 10:30 that night, Shawn paddled to shore and took off.  Sascha brought it back and we watched Pirate Radio.  How have I never seen this?!  Maybe it is just the great mood, but right now, it is one of the best movies I have ever watched.

I wake up to Femi and Sascha talking in the cockpit.  Femi is getting the ride share back to Statesboro to sell some things, clean out his apartment, and then possibly rejoin Stephen in Key West.  We say goodbye and Steve and Sascha paddle them to shore.  The boat feels empty and their company will be missed.  I know this contradicts what how I felt earlier, but that’s what happens when you share a small place for almost a month.  The boat is also much roomier.

We put up the new fore sail (Genoa) while the Miami skyline slowly shrinks behind us.  Sascha is a cool cat and definitely has some wisdom stored behind his quiet, polite façade.  The old discussion about enjoying the moment comes up and he says, “It’s not about having a good time, it’s being able to recognize a good time.”  The northern shore of Key Largo will be visible at dusk.

So today, I wake up my bed in the V-berth (part of the cabin under the fore-deck) and listen to the chain on the deck as Steve pull up anchor.  It sounds somewhat similar to dropping a bag of aluminum cans on the roof of your car.  Femi starts the motor and we are off.  I stay in the cabin and relax for an hour as they navigate through narrow rivers to the next spot.

More creative food: Corn meal and strawberries & cream flavored oatmeal pancakes.  Served with honey and peanut butter.

After a while, I go outside and do some stretching and Kung Fu workouts/techniques.  The boat is a great gym, especially when it’s moving through waves.  The sun is beaming (we have no bimini yet) so I tell Steve to go below where Femi is, and take the tiller.  Staying in the sun too long will drain you and kills the water supply.

The sun isn’t a problem for long because a storm is rolling in.  It starts raining and blowing.  “Steve! Turn on the weather!  Find out which way this thing’s moving!”

It starts getting kind of bad.  Shallow water and strong wind means choppy waves.  The channel is narrow and the wind is so strong, I can’t point down the channel, so I zag-zig.  At least we have rum this time J.

The rain/sleet is pelting my face to the point where I can’t look at the compass.  Luckily I had on some sunglasses gifted to me by our good friends Jarrod and Tina.  The GPS tells me where the channel markers are, but I have almost no control over the boat because of the wind and waves.  Femi reports back that the storm is moving NE.  Good, then I’m heading due South.

BLUE WATER

Up until this point, all the rivers from NY to FL have looked about the same murky, brown color.  The ocean gets clear, but not the rivers.  One of our awesome servers at Captain Hiram’s in Sebastian told us the river water changes color around Ft. Pierce.  Passing the inlet, there is a definitive line between the brown and teal, aqua blue water.  It’s so distinct, that you if swim in the water and half of your body looks like back home, and half in paradise.  We are wowed.

That afternoon, we anchor near the shore, a narrow strip of land between the ICW and the ocean.  After paddling the dingy 550 feet and tying it to a rock, we walk across the road to find a wall keeping us out of the private beach.

First coconut we’ve seen.

Today we are heading to Jupiter, where Femi and I have packages being shipped to us (thanks Boots).

More sweet houses on streets of water.  I am meeting Jeff, a dude I met in Teepee Town when I stayed with Boompa and the Metis Indians in January.  I lost all of my contacts, and only have his address.  Hopefully he calls.

We pull up in a bay and dropped anchor.  Dubi jumps in the water!  This is only his second time swimming.

 

I find this little guy snorkling around the boat where we dropped the hook.  Think it’s a sea cucumber.  It’s weird enough that I don’t want to cook it.  We swim around all day and Jeff leaves me a voice mail.

TANGENT

Need to clear up some false notions that may have been taken by the audience as a result of our highlight reel.  It’s not all sunshine and rainbows on the boat.  The most difficult challenges are all internal.  If the boat catches on fire and sinks, oh well.  Passenger survival is more important.   It’s just a boat and we can get a bus ticket to paradise. The hard stuff, which may or may not be apparent from reading the blog, is dealing with moods, attitude and balancing interpersonal relationships.

I can be in a bad mood for up to 2 days.  Just sour.  Whether it is illusions of grandeur, lack of progress, or growing friction with a crew member, it’s almost impossible to control.  Maybe after my neuron receptors get their fix on whatever chemical is associated with bad feelings or/and after enough time passes (I  get quiet and distant), then do I refocus on the bigger picture.  Then I go back to acknowledging good things like, “Hey I’ve got 2 legs, I’m pretty healthy, the world is a beautiful place filled with fun and interesting people.  Oh, yeah and I’m on a boat heading for paradise.

Einstein said ‘Weakness in attitude becomes weakness in character’.

Of course I write to you now in a good mood, because when I’m pissed, I only write depressing songs or look for something to improve.

I guess the summation of my thought train is: Not everything in life is a dick measuring contest.  Sometimes you gotta look around and realize how good you have it and keep balance by doing what you want.

I notice at the end of the day that tensions are building within the crew.  We all go to the store to get dinner and I forgot my wallet.  I don’t like to borrow money from friends, and already owe Femi for groceries, so I say I’ll just wait until tonight and eat back on the boat.  To some, my actions make no sense at all.  But it does to me.  I don’t like favors getting involved which will end up being leveraged one way or the other.  Anyway I think that either not borrowing money or just waiting until we were at the store to tell them put Femi in a bad mood and he hasn’t said 2 words the whole night.  He’s also had an occupied mind, because he may have to bus it back to GA to clear his old apartment out and sell his things.

This is the kind of activity that the crew undergoes daily.  There’s a big storm coming our way, Tropical Storm (projected to be a hurricane at landfall) Isaac, which will undoubtedly add to the tension.  Sometimes bad weather brings the crew closer together.  I need the crew in good morale when it comes time to make decisions that can affect the outcome of the trip.

WAITING

8-9 to 8-21
For another perspective, check out Femi’s blog:  http://drapeto.wordpress.com/

Dubi was allowed in all of the bars and restaurants in the historic downtown area.  Good food, $0.25 beers at the Palace, and live music.  We had a little too much fun and spent too much money.  For a combination of reasons, I ran in flip-flops for 2 miles to get to Huddle House around 4:30am.  Wherever we lack discipline, necessity will make us live more sustainably.

At The Green Turtle Bar

We met lots of cool people down there at the bars and playing in bands.  Thanks Becka for the hospitality, Jodi for the resources, and Paul for the references.  Jodi is the iconic surfer dude at first glance.  After talking to him for a few seconds it’s apparent that he knows the score and there may have been a bromance between he and the crew.  We all got along famously and hung out all night at Star Dog Tavern.  Becka was a super cool, wicked smart chick from Alaska staying on the island for a couple weeks.  She was part of operation Huddle #^@&#&% and I got to enjoy some It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia at their place across from The Green Turtle bar.  Becka introduced me to Paul, a witty local also living on the water.  Cool dude with a great demeanor; the kind of guy you would want with you during an emergency. Paul may be able to get us some day work in Ft. Pierce and Jupiter pushing cans at a recycling center or something of the sort.

Fred’s was an awesome local grocery store which allowed us to buy a week’s worth of Ramen and soup for about $10.50.  That will help make up for the loss in the bars and a $70 ticket for not having our dinghy registered.  Florida laws.  Pshh.

BACK ON BIG BLUE

Now we’re out on the ocean passing Jacksonville, bound for Cape Canaveral.  With decent wind speed/direction, we may make it there in 3 days.

Two dolphins are swimming with the boat and it looks ridiculous!  They  are huge!  We’re about 20 miles off land, so the water is really clear. J

Morale is high.  It feels good to be back in the ocean, back in international waters.  The dolphin episode was invigorating and they ended up swimming with us for several hours.  We also saw a sea turtle 15 feet away from the boat.  Of course I didn’t get my camera in time for it or the flying unicorn-seahorses, but trust me they were there!  It had lots of barnacles and stuff growing on its back and was about the size of a push-mower.  A few more dolphins came and there was a whole flock of ‘em jumping all over each other.  We are thinking they heard something about a bare-ass.  Note to reader: dolphins are friendly to people, but as Google and YouTube have shown us in recent years, they can be too friendly.

It’s surprising how fast you get rusty on your boat skills, but luckily it comes back soon.  It’s a good feeling when you can effortlessly scurry the foredeck.  Your legs learn the waves and you’re always holding onto whatever it is you are working on (main halyard, clew outhaul, reefing points, etc.) so there’s really no need to balance.  We are getting back our saltiness, but still haven’t managed to plan accordingly on land (we keep forgetting rum).

A few minor problems have occurred, but nothing big.  The dinghy got a hole in it from some cotter pin on the foredeck.  The roller furling (shrinks the size of the front sail) was jammed and had to be re-spooled with line right as we headed into a storm with 50mph gusts.  The storm was at Jacksonville, heading east, so it was gone by the time we got there.  We almost lost one of the screws holding the boom on the mast.  But almost doesn’t really mean anything on the water.  We almost hit a lot of things.

The wind has been in our face and some kind of current is keeping us from traveling south, at least until we are 20+ miles off the coast.  The Gulfstream is 100 miles off the coast, so it might be from big rivers nearby.  The seas have been pretty smooth, maybe 3ft seas, so although we aren’t making much progress, it’s a safe ride.  Like when Yogi Berra’s limo driver told him they were lost and he replied, “Yeah, but we’re making great time!”  We’ve made about 20 miles in as many hours.

The next morning, we had decent wind and made about 20 miles progress in 5 hours.  Morale is high again and the boat is so well balanced that I am able to leave the tiller untouched for 3 hours and maintain course!  We think FSM might have wrapped his noodly appendage around the tiller.  Later in the afternoon and evening it was no good and we tacked back and forth without making very much southerly movement.

For dinner we each had our own cup of ramen, with our own forks! Ballin!  And to drink, Steve made us a big jug of Tang.  We share on this boat.  Around 9:30pm, we dropped sails and rocked in the waves.  The wind is supposed to be good around midnight.

 Awesome day!  Autopilot (a rope tied around the tiller) took us through the night.  Lots of fish swimming around the boat, so we make a net out of a laundry bag, the old bob-stay (wire that goes from the bow-sprit down to where you’d connect  a trailor hook), and a dock pole.  First I tried using a crate, but it caused too much drag through the water.

First scoop, a dozen bait fish.  Throw it on a hook and pull up a little shark.  He looked massive coming up because you can see 30’ down now.  We thought we were in trouble, and he turned out to be only about 2 feet long.  He was only gilled though and popped off before Steve could net him.

We couldn’t catch the sharks, so we went swimming.  The first time you go under water with the goggles, everything looks fake and you feel like you’re on Discovery Channel.  You can see really far and it’s pretty terrifying.  On one side is the bottom of the boat, and it’s covered with barnacles (hasn’t been scraped in a year) and there’s about 300 little fish schooling behind the keel.  On the other sides of you is unkown, but you can see so damn far you you have to occasionally look to make sure Jaws isn’t coming for a nibble.  I cleaned some of the barnacles off and chased littlefish around with Stephen’s elastic fish spear.

After swimming, we started moving again and a couple huge dolphins hung around the bow.  To finish off the day, we played guitar and had noodles and rice.

About food on the boat.  You do your best to stock up on variety, but there’s only so much space and money and there’s no room for pizza.  Yet.  You get creative with spices and sauces.  But the base foods stay relatively consistent, much more so than we Westerners are used to.  Once the appeal of trying new food is gone, you start eating out of necessity.  “Hey you want some tatsy rice and sriracha?”  Eh, I can wait a couple more hours.

More dolphins, but not making much progress.  Dubi finally dropped a duece, too!  Femi got him a little green grass door mat to use.  We were getting a little concerned after 3 days of holding it!

A few more storms were dodged; we caught the edge of one and got wet but were not struck.  We were gonna rename the boat The Unsinkable Storm Dodger, but will have to settle for Unstrikable.  After almost 5 days and 5 nights on the water, we pulled into New Smyrna Beach Marina and are patching the dinghy, welding the motor mount, and stocking up for the next leg.  We averaged 28 miles per day or a little over 1mph.  Our course looks like it was drawn with a seismograph.

BACK ON INTRACOASTAL WATERWAY

 They even had a mangrove island.  If a hurricane is coming, people drive their boat into one of these and tie it off in as many directions as possible.  NSB is a cool town and Panhead’s Pizza is awesome.  The people are really friendly and the whole town seems to know when you arrive.  At least a dozen people came up to us, even in the middle of a meal and asked us where we were from and where we were going.  We were there for a little over 24 hours.

Next town we landed in was Cocoa Village, across the river from Cocoa beach.  Rebelution had a concert on the water.  Now we are in Sebastian, FL at a sort of resort, chilling in a bar, posting this.  Next major destination, Jupiter Beach.  Tropical Storm 9 (Isaac) is heading our way and might hit Florida in a week or two.

8/6/12 – Monday –To catch up on the gap in time between stories, Stephen and I rented a wet slip in Wilmington Island, GA at a monthly rate.  I worked at Basil’s, a local pizzeria, which is kind of poorly run (I’ve seen a few) and Stephen worked at Tubby’s Tankhouse.  Our neighbors are awesome and the Steve at the boat yard helps us in every way imaginable.  He even checked out our rigging and boat for the trip.  Mickey and Marcia, our neighbors seen below, helped us in more ways than I can count. 

Mickey made a big impact on us.  He has a great attitude and is sort of a Leonardo Da Vinci with improving things.  Every time I was struggling on the boat, he’d say, “Oh, that’s an easy fix” and then fiberglass a drain on the boat or reach in his pocket and furnish a dozen bolts exactly the size I need.  We are expecting him to meet us in Key West in October.  After two weeks we began getting settled and started making plans of how to improve our lives on land.  This was defeating the dream to fix the boat and continue on, so we decide to bail by the end of the month. 

Two weeks later, 2 days after our monthly slip is up, we head south again with an improved boat.  New rigging, new motor mount, fixed motor, new Genoa, waterproof gas storage, and a dinghy.  We motor out in the morning and take the ICW because the wind is in our face and no good for sailing South.

Femi and his dog Dubious (Dubi) join us for this adventure.  The motor and dinghy are working great.  After an easy day of motoring and getting comfortable, we drop the hook just north of the Sapelo River. 

8/8/12 – Wednesday – Dodged some more storms; came up with a new name for the boat: The Unsinkable Storm Dodger!  Saw wild horses on Cumberland Island.  Enjoyed some cheesy-ramen-macaroni and parked the boat across the river from Fernandina Beach, which we will explore tomorrow.