Fernandina Beach to Stuart
Fernandina Beach is an interesting place. It had a cute, quaint downtown area with more bars per square mile than Newport, which is definitely saying something. A few days after I got there my good sailing friend Joey joined me and we spent the next few nights reveling in the small town and waiting for the weather to change. A cold front had stalled out over the eastern Florida coast and was not making an easy decision as to when to leave. After a few days we kinda just said the hell with it and proceeded down the ICW at about 4 pm on a Thursday.
I didn't think motoring down the ICW at night would be a huge deal, turns out I was wrong. Thankfully nothing dreadful happened, but when a day marker that's not on your Navionics app, nor your paper charts appears out of the pitch black darkness a mere 15 feet to starboard, its a freaky experience. I've done this in twilight before, in a much wider waterway with many well lit buoys, however the narrow, dark channel between Fernandina and the St. Johns river was a different story. Oh yeah, and throw in a huge dredger who we had trouble getting in contact with just for kicks. Joey and I decided to anchor, but not without running aground coming into the anchorage (I blame the Navionics app, it switched from a color-coded chart with numbers marking the depth to a unitless contour map) and spending the better part of an hour trying to kedge ourselves off.
We motored down the St. Johns river the next morning, heading into the open Atlantic. The NOAA buoys still said there was a 7.5 ft sea and winds out of the northeast gusting to 20 knots. Neither was accurate. There was still a 5-6 ft swell from the east but zero breeze. Sigh...this would be a long 48 hours, and indeed it was. We motored the whole 210 miles down the eastern coast of Florida in little to no breeze for 47 straight hours. We did sail a little on the final morning when it finally picked up again out of the north.
One thing I've discovered about myself is that I am not a sailing purist. I used to think I might be, reading books by the Pardey's, Moitessier and other engineless sailors, but that's just not my bag. Sailing is a lifestyle and sport that demands patience as it is, even under the best conditions I'm only going about 7 miles per hour. If the wind isn't blowing in my favor, or at all, I'll admit I'm quick to turn on the "iron spinnaker" and just get somewhere. I really don't mind it either, for me voyaging is more about the experience of travel and discovery than bobbing about in a windless ocean for days at a time.
I'm at my brother's in Stuart at the time being. I'll be spending Thanksgiving here and then motoring along the Okeechobee Waterway that connects the east to the west coast of Florida and then sailing up to Sarasota next week. Its a great relief to be down here and out of the cold that is gripping the rest of the east coast currently and, more importantly, to be around family again.
I didn't think motoring down the ICW at night would be a huge deal, turns out I was wrong. Thankfully nothing dreadful happened, but when a day marker that's not on your Navionics app, nor your paper charts appears out of the pitch black darkness a mere 15 feet to starboard, its a freaky experience. I've done this in twilight before, in a much wider waterway with many well lit buoys, however the narrow, dark channel between Fernandina and the St. Johns river was a different story. Oh yeah, and throw in a huge dredger who we had trouble getting in contact with just for kicks. Joey and I decided to anchor, but not without running aground coming into the anchorage (I blame the Navionics app, it switched from a color-coded chart with numbers marking the depth to a unitless contour map) and spending the better part of an hour trying to kedge ourselves off.
We motored down the St. Johns river the next morning, heading into the open Atlantic. The NOAA buoys still said there was a 7.5 ft sea and winds out of the northeast gusting to 20 knots. Neither was accurate. There was still a 5-6 ft swell from the east but zero breeze. Sigh...this would be a long 48 hours, and indeed it was. We motored the whole 210 miles down the eastern coast of Florida in little to no breeze for 47 straight hours. We did sail a little on the final morning when it finally picked up again out of the north.
One thing I've discovered about myself is that I am not a sailing purist. I used to think I might be, reading books by the Pardey's, Moitessier and other engineless sailors, but that's just not my bag. Sailing is a lifestyle and sport that demands patience as it is, even under the best conditions I'm only going about 7 miles per hour. If the wind isn't blowing in my favor, or at all, I'll admit I'm quick to turn on the "iron spinnaker" and just get somewhere. I really don't mind it either, for me voyaging is more about the experience of travel and discovery than bobbing about in a windless ocean for days at a time.
I'm at my brother's in Stuart at the time being. I'll be spending Thanksgiving here and then motoring along the Okeechobee Waterway that connects the east to the west coast of Florida and then sailing up to Sarasota next week. Its a great relief to be down here and out of the cold that is gripping the rest of the east coast currently and, more importantly, to be around family again.
Comments