With beam seas hitting us broadside, life aboard “Summertime” was more than a bit rock-y and roll-y. We tried tacking sailboat-style and that put the wind on our bow quarter and stern quarter giving us a much more stable stance for the ensuing three hours... yeah!
We had heard rave reviews about Marathon. Most cruisers arrive there in November and stay until April. We had been warned that space availability would be limited at this time of year. What we discovered was “No room in the Inn”. Boot Key City Marina‘s 226 mooring balls were filled to capacity with 30 boats already on a waiting list. We returned to the outer harbor overlooking the Seven Mile Bridge connecting the Middle Keys to the Lower Keys and Key West. The hubbub of activity in Marathon was out of sight, to our relief, and we enjoyed two sunsets before moving on toward Islamorada.
En route, the engine speed began to slow down. Wally discovered a damaged throttle cable. Since we were the only boat traversing the ICW, we dropped the hook in the available 7 feet of water. This allowed us to stay safe and gave Wally time to MacGyver a repair. We thank the Good Lord for helping us keep calm, letting Wally use his skills and jewelry-making tools on board. A new cable, 34 feet long, is on its way from Rhode Island!
Not being privy to local knowledge, we experienced shock at the shallow waters of Islamorada Harbor. The charts showed 7 feet of water, but our depth sounder showed only 4. The clarity of the water, new to us, made it look more like 2 feet...we need 3.2! (As we glided toward the anchorage, I pleaded for us to turn back before we ran aground. We didn’t.) With the Lorelei Restaurant and Bar off our bow, we caught our breath as the live music wafted over the bay. All’s well that ends well.
Boatman’s Mangrove Marina in Tavernier had one space left and we took it for two days. Even there we had only 8 inches under our keel. There is not much water in the Keys. Old Florida is alive and laid-back in Tavernier. The live-aboard boaters around us were very welcoming. We appreciated the nearness of Winn-Dixie to the north on Rte. 1-A and Dairy Queen to the south.
Yesterday we moved through the expansive Barnes Sound and into Card Sound...two hours from Miami’s Biscayne Bay. Today we are anchored just off the private island of Pumpkin Key, watching the Saturday morning sailboat races from the local yacht club. A powered committee boat is shepherding the class event, many competitors sporting colorful spinnakers. The calm night turned rather breezy about 4am, setting off our anchor alarm. It’s mid-morning and we’re still bouncing a bit, but the sailors couldn’t be more delighted.
En route, the engine speed began to slow down. Wally discovered a damaged throttle cable. Since we were the only boat traversing the ICW, we dropped the hook in the available 7 feet of water. This allowed us to stay safe and gave Wally time to MacGyver a repair. We thank the Good Lord for helping us keep calm, letting Wally use his skills and jewelry-making tools on board. A new cable, 34 feet long, is on its way from Rhode Island!
Not being privy to local knowledge, we experienced shock at the shallow waters of Islamorada Harbor. The charts showed 7 feet of water, but our depth sounder showed only 4. The clarity of the water, new to us, made it look more like 2 feet...we need 3.2! (As we glided toward the anchorage, I pleaded for us to turn back before we ran aground. We didn’t.) With the Lorelei Restaurant and Bar off our bow, we caught our breath as the live music wafted over the bay. All’s well that ends well.
Boatman’s Mangrove Marina in Tavernier had one space left and we took it for two days. Even there we had only 8 inches under our keel. There is not much water in the Keys. Old Florida is alive and laid-back in Tavernier. The live-aboard boaters around us were very welcoming. We appreciated the nearness of Winn-Dixie to the north on Rte. 1-A and Dairy Queen to the south.
Yesterday we moved through the expansive Barnes Sound and into Card Sound...two hours from Miami’s Biscayne Bay. Today we are anchored just off the private island of Pumpkin Key, watching the Saturday morning sailboat races from the local yacht club. A powered committee boat is shepherding the class event, many competitors sporting colorful spinnakers. The calm night turned rather breezy about 4am, setting off our anchor alarm. It’s mid-morning and we’re still bouncing a bit, but the sailors couldn’t be more delighted.
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