X-ing
File #6_A Gulf Stream Crossing & the Atlantic ICW
Ridin' the Ditch: Vero Beach to Daytona
(Silly
Rabbit? You may well ask? This (boat) name seemed appropriate given we’d
arrived at Halifax Harbor Marina on Easter Monday. Also, in our attempt to get to Daytona the
day before, we hit mud at New Smyrna Beach – not once, but twice… Just a couple of dumb bunnies. But not let’s get ahead of ourselves.)
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| View over Vero Beach Marina (from a bus window) |
Vero
Beach is a lovely spot. Warm, friendly
and very well protected. Ever so
briefly, we finally caught sight of the elusive manatee. Ever so reluctantly then, we let the mooring
line slip off and motored north in less than promising weather. Near Melbourne, GS threatened to take photos
of the Cap’n against grey, threatening skies. (A Melbourne weather joke of course!) This stretch of the ICW follows the Indian River, as wide as a lake,
with much of it very shallow except for the charted channel that guided us; red to
the left and green to the right. Don’t
step outside the lines or the mud will find you. At this point too, it becomes more remote,
rural even, although it’s often hard to tell what level of settlement hides
behind miles and miles of swampy marshes.
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| There's always an audience at the fixed bridges. And 63 feet is our mast height, so there's always hope for something to watch too! |
We
anchored for the night with fellow travellers at a popular spot near the town
of Coco. The barrier island opposite is
home of Cape Canaveral, NASA and to a myriad of spectacular, history making space
launches. Sadly, we’d missed one by only
a few days. We bypassed Titusville**
cautiously crossing the Indian River into the unhappily named Mosquito
Lagoon. The Haulover Canal gave us
plenty of opportunity to manatee-spot. Floating
mounds of globular jelly, with the occasional splash of a black, paddle-shaped tail,
was the best we were going to get from these shy, sensitive creatures. Beyond the Lagoon, the river became hemmed in
by marshy islands and cedar swamps. The
fishing must be good as this area seemed a very popular spot for caravan parks
(to use an Australian term), boat ramps and wildlife, including alligators.
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| No hurricane damage here... See those beady eyes watching us? |
At
last, our planned New Smyrna Beach anchorage came into sight, full of abandoned
hurricane damaged hulks. As it was
early, the day overcast and uninviting anyway, we made a snap decision to carry
on the 14 miles to Daytona. Forgetting
of course, that it was low tide. Red 34
saw to our undoing. Somehow in 4’ of
water, and with lots of bow thrusting, an intense Cap’n moved WJ3 back into
deeper water – well, enough to float us!
As we moved off, another couple
of sailboats charged by. The Cap’n
warned them, but somehow, they both made it through. “Let’s follow them!” proved a ruinous
decision – we ended back on that shoal.
Luckily, having provided much entertainment for the drinkers at the
Yacht Club/Marina, we pulled off and slunk back to the anchorage.
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| Endless miles of marshes & midges (no-see-ums) |
As
if life wasn’t challenging enough, our electrical problems became serious. We just managed to get the anchor down. Sensing trouble, the Cap’n left our motor
running all night. It’s just as well. Our morning’s exercise was hauling chain and
a heavy anchor. Once snuggled in our
Daytona marina berth, there wasn’t enough electricity in the batteries to turn
off WJ3’s engine. Silly rabbits, indeed!
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