Meeting Miss Beryl

2024 Wikipedia By NASA/Matthew Dominick
 https://www.nasa.gov/image-article/studying-hurricane-beryl-from-space/
 Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=149984683

Living on an island, you learn to respect weather.  Not that we check forecasts every day, but it can be helpful to keep out of trouble.  Trouble though, sometimes finds YOU!  So here then, is our tale of Caribbean daring-do… 

In June 2024, after months of repair work on our sailboat, Windjammer 3 in Trinidad, we finally “splashed”.  Tropical waters under clear, blue skies beckoned.  Only days after setting the hook in Carriacou, we learned of a tropical system moving west towards us.  Time to pay closer attention then.  So, this is how we met Hurricane Beryl, up close and personal!  These are notes we took from weather reports as Miss Beryl progressed threateningly towards us.  

24-25 Jun 24.  Tyrell Bay, Carriacou.  A tropical system is moving west off the coast of Africa.  At anchor, we experience wild squalls and 53 km/h winds (a near gale) overnight.  Neighbours head into mangrove lagoons or boat yards for shelter.  Given the system’s track, our Cap’n decides north is best, rather than our pre-planned “Escape south to Trinidad.”  Very wise indeed!

26 Jun 24:  Bequia, SVG.  Atlantic system on the move.  Island-hugging, as we move north, lessens the impact of increasingly strong winds and choppy seas.

27 Jun 24: Rodney Bay, St Lucia.  Tropical storm on the way. Winds reach 65 km/h.  Locals seem non-plussed by this impending storm.

28-30 Jun 24: Rodney Bay Marina.  Record breaking hurricane coming!  St Lucia is gusty and overcast.  Moving into Rodney Bay’s sheltered lagoon, we refuel before taking a Marina berth.  After lashing WJ3 securely into her slip, canvas and sails are removed.  Hopefully, the lagoon’s narrow entrance will limit storm surge.  Preparations continued with re-stocking essential supplies.  Time to sit and wait.  We cling to a chance that Beryl wobbles south.  Every mile counts.

01 Jul 24:  Beryl (now Category 4) hits the Caribbean.  The eye passes over Carriacou, 157 km away, at 220 km/h causing unbelievable damage.  Thankfully, St Lucia’s airport records 75 km/h, a strong gale.  Despite days of rain, flooding was minimal.  We were safe, this time!

Feeding off unseasonably warm waters, Beryl moved on, quickly intensifying into Category 5 with unimaginable 270 km/h winds.  Over two days, Beryl had strengthened into a major Hurricane; only 6 others have accomplished this record.  Spare a thought for Hurricane Hunters who fly through these beasts to collect meteorological data!  Days later, news and drone footage filtered out of unbelievable damage sustained by islands to our south.  

We remained in St Lucia for the remainder of 2024 Hurricane Season, making a decision not to haul out in Trinidad, but make a dash for Deltaville to a less exhilarating life on USA’s Chesapeake Bay.

  

Fifth Leg

Finally, the calculations for our very long Season 2024-2025 are done.  

Always chores...

End of Season:  Our figures for 2024-25 from the LOG came in as follows:

From: Chaguaramas, Trinidad Lat/Long: 10:40.993N 61:38.029W  Date/Time: 10/04/24: 2230

To: Deltaville, Chesapeake Bay USA Lat/Long: 37:33.621N 76:19.279W  Date/Time: 4/04/25: 1200

Time Taken: (this year): 514.5 hrs (at sea)  Distance: (this year): 3086nm

Distance Total: (since 2008): 31,368nm  

Weather: El Niño (increased rainfall & reduced hurricane activity) ended in 2024, ushering La Niña conditions (drier conditions, colder winters, and increased hurricane activity).  So, we found ourselves not far enough away from record-breaking Beryl.  La Niña lived up to expectations and after a 4½ month hiatus in St Lucia waiting out the end of hurricane season, we juggled local weather conditions, not quite to “tropical paradise” standard, with a definite need to keep moving.  This year, we splurged on adding Starlink to WJ3’s now impressive collection of antennas, so we had internet connection and therefore weather reports in all but the most isolated anchorages.  It would have been handier had both our computers not decided to give up the ghost during this trip.  We are still blaming Beryl!

Fastest Speed:  We moved at a reasonably consistent speed, found the shortest route, then used both sail and motor.  The aim was to travel about 50 miles per day, leave early and be anchored or docked for “sundowners”.  We were able to reduce our long overnighters to two - Puerto Rico to Turks Caicos in 3 days & then Turks Caicos to George Town, Bahamas in 2 days. This greatly boosted crew morale!  In all, over the total distance covered, we maintained an average speed of 5.9mph.  And for the record, there is no plan at all to upgrade to a faster catamaran or a sleeker hot water boat.  (Although after dreadful travel days, we did toy with the idea!)

Conditions: As this cruise took us on our fifth leg of the Caribbean, chances are we will not attempt it again.  It’s not a difficult run and can be managed over a series of mostly, one day sails.  The only real exception is the crossing between Turks & Caicos and the Virgins.  This time though, we tried something different.  After skimming T&C’s east coast, we headed south for Puerto Rico. Once there, with the Trades howling and a strong Gulf Stream running, it was a sensible choice to follow the coast west!  On reaching the Mona Passage, we ducked around the corner making a B line for Puerto Real - hoping to make it before the morning Trades kicked back in!  Naturally, it didn’t quite go to plan. Does it ever?  Still, we did learn that heading east means bashing into the Trades and timing is everything.  Seeing the south coast of Puerto Rico was well worth the effort though! 

BTW, the fifth leg is a fifth mast on a schooner – the sailboat variety, not a glass of beer!  Cheers, and we’ll see you on the Chesapeake in May 2026.

Home Run

After our pounding on the Alligator River, it was an easy decision to make to pull into the shelter of Coinjock.  Here, we had the pleasure of hot showers and a huge, very tasty seafood dinner at their popular restaurant.  We think they forgot our serve of hushpuppies though.  Never mind, next time!  We were keen to keep on moving, as miles were now vanishing under our keel at an amazing rate.  Great Bridge turned out to be another excellent stop – out of the wind, supermarkets close by and a free dock for 48 hours.  We took up that challenge (yet again) and shared a few bread crusts with other visitors biding time here - some very bossy Canada Geese. 

Tied up at Great Bridge between the Bridge & the Lock

C'mon Lady, deliver the goods or else...

With only 12 miles to Norfolk, we made an easy day of it.  Starting with the Great Bridge Lock, we pushed off into the Elizabeth River to undertake several bridge openings before meeting the heavily industrialised Portsmouth and Norfolk.  We arrived at Mile 0, off Hospital Point, yet again having to wait for northerlies to abate (just another 2 days on anchor – at least the sun was shining) to complete our last 47 miles up the Chesapeake to Deltaville.  

Waiting for the lock to open. Lowering of 2.5ft & from fresh into salt water

Back into the real world. Even our bicycle looks impressed...

We left Hospital Point, as scheduled but could hardly see for thick fog!  Thankfully, shipping traffic was minimal, Navy ships barely visible and only one large ship came into port, blasting alerts as he moved up river.  We noted again, we were the only ones heading north, tried to keep on the edge of the channel and were relieved to finally break out into Chesapeake Bay – even if we still couldn’t see anything.  

Don't look now, but something is following us...

Big shipyards and Norfolk city beyond

Nine hours later, WJ3 pulled into Broad Creek Marina where we are currently tied to the Transient Dock until it is time to haul us into their yard.  It’s still freezing and the Cap’n has just dashed off on a mercy mission to buy a heater for the cabin. He can never resist an opportunity to visit Hurd's Hardware! 

Warming up at last

By now you have seen many, many photos of our splashes and hauls, so we will end our 2025 posts here.  WJ3 will be sitting idle in the yard until our return to Deltaville in April/May 2026, with plans for time spent messing about on the Chesapeake and the Other Woman’s maintenance.  Right now, we’re looking forward to 12 months at home, even if we are looking down the barrel at yet another winter.  Just whose idea was this??

Just hauled out in time before the heavens opened and foul winds blew

We promise to be back for more adventures end of April 2026.  Though no more open oceans, no more long voyages!  Just a casual cruise and catch-up on what's been happening along the shores of the Chesapeake in our absence!  

Never Cross an Alligator

Yes, it's still cold!

Adams Creek usually marks a point where the ICW, heading north, holds few surprises.  Thankfully, we’ve now left designated “problem areas” behind and are well on our way with the mile countdown.  We had hoped for improved weather, so it was a delight to be crossing the wide, wide waters of Pamlico Sound on a quiet, sunny day.  The Sound is bordered by a narrow chain of tiny islands bravely fronting the Atlantic that make up the Outer Banks.  Most famous of these is Hatteras Island, an area that many cruisers try to avoid, particularly in bad weather when off-shore conditions can be treacherous.  This area is otherwise known as the “Graveyard of the Atlantic.”  Don’t let those names fool you, this is an area well settled with beach homes, resorts and all the infrastructure to support it.  It’s also home to quieter wildlife reserves and Kill Devil Hills, home of the Wright Brother’s historic first flight.  We may well get to visit one day, but not in WJ3.  A car and kayak might be best…

We anchored off Pungo Creek (nearby Belhaven is famous for its crabs – we were way too early for this treat) and settled in to watch the sun go down with a quiet drink in the cockpit, listening to a nearby resident, busy we thought with a nail gun, fixing his house.  Actually no, someone was out in the woods, hunting.  We retreated below deck and left early next morning.  

The Alligator River & its bridge are miles wide. A swing bridge sits at the  intersection with the ICW. It's surprising how much commercial traffic (barges, tugs) uses this waterway. 

The ICW took us on a merry dance through areas seemingly remote to us but on a map are well-settled and criss-crossed by a network of roads and bridges.  On we trudged - up rivers and creeks, through narrow canals, across more broad sounds, Norfolk in our sights.  Nature had other ideas.  As we burst out of stumpy Pungo canal into the Alligator River, we received a Gale Warning for the immediate area.  Oh great!  In 2009, nestled among the duck blinds in this area, we had an alert for a water spout.  Yes, we set the anchor firmly and survived the night with winds blowing over 41mph.  Next morning it appeared to have calmed down.  Soon though, we came to a halt at the vast Alligator Bridge, sheltering in its lee from winds still blowing over 28mph….  We dropped anchor again.  This swing bridge won’t open over 30mph and we didn’t want to face bashing into open waters across Albemarle Sound with nowhere to hide.  It was worth the wait…  Next morning the Sound was still a little cranky, but allowed us to make headway.  And I might add, in the company of the first north-bound cruising vessel we had encountered to date.

Yet another canal to float through - at least it's protected by tall timbers.
And is that really blue sky?

Behind the Barrier

Early morning farewell to Bucksport Marina

Treated to early morning reflections in a calm Waccamaw River

After taking a break at Bucksport Marina, a friendly and favourite stop along the Waccamaw, it was time to take on the next challenge.  A canal led us much, much closer to Atlantic beaches and barrier islands, and all the civilization that entails.  More bridges to tackle, areas of densely populated housing, interesting canal homes, loads more local and commercial traffic, and skinny, shoaled waters when crossing a myriad of smaller coastal inlets.  In all, as we rolled along, we enjoyed the change of scenery that made our day seem to pass quickly.   

Some houses were very isolated

Others were certainly unique

When passing these inlets, it is often quite possible to catch a glimpse of the currently moody Atlantic Ocean – hence our decision to remain on the ICW rather than take “outside” legs.  Many inlets are inaccessible to the likes of us with our 5½’ keel anyway.  Luckily for us, we watched closely for repositioned markers and avoided bumping.  Unlike some poor soul in his hot-water boat at Lockwoods Folly who obviously ignored them or perhaps thought his shallow keel was sufficient!  We breezed past, watching a tow boat struggling to free him in a rapidly diminishing tide.  Worse, a nearby carpark offers locals a fine vantage point of escapades that must regularly take place there. 

Found traffic (ship & bird) on the Cape Fear River

And quite a few hard working tugs and ferries

We rolled on to Southport and the Cape Fear River, a big ship channel with remarkable currents running, anchoring off-channel behind a spoil island at Tina’s Pocket.  The wind was blowing up-river, the skies were grey and we were cold and miserable, but the anchor held, doing a sterling job as it always does.   Best of all, we were well placed to tackle Snows Cut, where WJ3 was pushed through at an unprecedented 9kts.  And of course, more barrier islands, more inlets…  At least we had made North Carolina – mowing down the miles now!

Who doesn't need their own Lighthouse?

After another long day, we settled into a not so cosy Mile Hammock – again, the wind blew straight in on us, so we set an anchor alarm.  First time ever; thankfully not needed.  Mile Hammock is part of Camp Lejeune (US Marines) and we cruisers are kindly allowed to share this small harbour when not in use.  The ICW in this area then continues through their training area, so we left early to make for Beaufort, a pleasant little town with pirate connections (Blackbeard) on the Beaufort Inlet - another big ship channel.  Anchoring in this area is challenging, so we moved on to a perfectly calm and more peaceful Adams Creek, putting us in good stead for the challenges of crossing the large, open waters of Pamlico Sound. 

(Blackbeard’s history is quite interesting.  You might enjoy this story of his daring-do efforts at sea in the rather fetching Revenge and later, the Queen Anne’s Revenge.)  

And you thought it was just a load of old history...

Low Country

Georgia and South Carolina are home to vast areas of seemingly impenetrable marsh and swamps.  A visit to the remote Okefenokee Swamp is on our wish list, however, not this year.  That didn’t stop us watching carefully as we wove our way through mile after winding mile of connecting rivers and canals for wildlife.  This is the real low country, full of isolated homes, shrimp boats and crab pots.  All very quiet at this time of year.

Ben Sawyer Bridge. One of many we encountered. 
This swing bridge operates north of Charleston

Hell Gate was up to it’s usual tricks though and our timing was off – it would take months to travel this stretch if we were to wait for a convenient high tide, so on with the show.  And we skimmed over it with just a foot of water beneath the keel in one stretch of this narrow, shoaled cut.  We made it, just, but wouldn't want to try it again on such a low tide...

We eventually made Charleston on a beautiful warm sunny day.  That is, until we popped out of the Wappoo Creek cut, then crossed the Ashley River into this vast, windy and very busy harbour.  The dockhand helping us refuel, dressed in t-shirt and shorts, thought we were totally mad!  Dressed for the Arctic AND worse, travelling north… 

North of Charleston lies a very scenic section of the ICW (and it's deep, easy to navigate!)– the wonderful cypress swamps that line the Waccamaw River.  The river is rich, tobacco brown, lined with loads of stumps, swamp and marshlands.  This area was once wealthy and vigorous due to the production of rice and indigo.  We pulled into the Bucksport Marina, a favourite and quiet spot along the Waccamaw to refuel, deciding immediately that we needed an extra day to rest.    

Cypress swamp along the Waccamaw a bit dismal
in winter, and an ICW mile marker now a prize nest

Hard to spot, but those logs in the Waccamaw
are just covered in tortoises enjoying the afternoon sun

We’re travelling every day now with no plans to make any more longish stops from here, so there’s very little to report that’s especially interesting.  Even the wildlife is in hiding, (no alligators to report!) all remaining in Florida until Spring is well and truly in the air.  

How is this for a painterly sunset? 
South Edisto River, west of Watts Cut, South Carolina

Eyes on the Road

Anchored off Fernandina Beach, Florida. 
About to cross St Mary's Inlet into Georgia

Three days north of St Augustine found us safely out of Florida and up river in a sheltered Brunswick.  Tied to a transient dock.  With electricity and water, no less.  Bliss, when you’ve spent 9 hours travelling 50 miles daily along a narrow ICW corridor of lakes, rivers, and canals that can come with surprises all of their own, especially when crossing inlets.  And we’ve lost count of those… 

Well, it was a sun trap until the morning we left in 1⁰C

Brunswick Landing is a wonderful sun-trap. It is boater friendly and best of all, they have an easily accessible supermarket a few blocks over.  Our marina plan is usually to stay 3 nights.  By the time we arrive, often late in the day, then complete check in formalities, find conveniences, set up electricity and water connections and perhaps refuel (to save time on departure), our first night is chalked up.  Our two days were otherwise busy, spent washing clothes, shopping for groceries, reporting in to the Coast Guard, and fixing broken boat bits.  At least we were able to exchange a few good books in the Sailor’s Lounge and have long, long hot showers to get our blood circulating.  

Anchored in the marsh off Bear River, in Georgia.
Can you see the white mast of a cat anchored further round the bend?

Squeezing our way through some serious
bridge constructions at Thunderbolt

Getting to our first stop in Georgia had been something of an ordeal.  We managed to sort out our nav problems at St Augustine and were now glued to the blue dotted line (Bob423 overlay on Aqua Maps) following Bob’s good guidance.  The weather had other plans, and after those few sunny days in St Augustine, it was now somewhat wild and wooly, hitting lows of 1⁰C.  Crossing the St Johns River at Jacksonville, we’d encountered a nasty storm with rain, and strong, chilling winds up to 31kts.  At least the bridge with furious eddies was kind to us this time – we luckily, had arrived at slack tide.  And we didn’t bump into submarines crossing St Mary’s River Inlet either.  Always a bonus. 

Not exactly flattering, but at least we're warmish.
 (The Cap'n reckoned this pix will scare small children!)

All this cold weather was enough to send us ferreting for our down sleeping bags and jackets.  On any given day now, we are wearing up to 4 layers – long john thermals, tracksuits with hoodies, puffy jackets, wet weather gear.  All topped off with a fashionable beanie or two.  And you all thought this was fun!!

With quite the audience, unhappy at the disturbance, at some bridges

A Big Day Out

Side streets offered interesting heritage buildings too!

With the weather not being especially co-operative, we settled on a mooring ball in the huge field of St Augustine’s Municipal Marina for a few days.  It was a great spot to be, beside the Bridge of Lions, and very close to the walkable, historic part of town.  Ordering a phone sim to be sent to the office proved easy, as was finding a well-stocked boat bits store to keep the Cap’n happy.  We had less success locating a bank and a large grocery store within walking distance.  Although critical to maintaining crew harmony, we quickly dispensed with challenging chores for a better idea.  With time on our hands now, and a beautiful, sunny Florida day, we hit the tourist trail for a day of – oh, I don’t know – doing nothing but relaxing!   

Elusive Manatee - signage artwork

St Augustine was settled by the Spanish in 1565 and is considered the oldest continually occupied European settlement in the USA.  Henry Flagler, a wealthy and motivated industrialist, saw a business opportunity here in 1882, whilst on his honeymoon no-less.  Flagler built a series of resorts for the well-to-do, not only in St Augustine, but along the length of the Florida coast.  All connected naturally, by his Florida East Coast Railway.  

External features of Alcazar from Steam Room

Penny-farthings under Venetian Glass Chandeliers

We settled on exploring the Lightner Museum, once Flagler's 1888 Gilded Age resort hotel, the Alcazar.   Once resplendent with indoor pool, Turkish and Russian baths, ballroom and tennis courts, it attracted wealthy clientele.  Now a museum dedicated to hobbies and collections from the early 1900’s, it has a fine eclectic assortment including Tiffany glass, music room instruments, penny farthing bicycles, a stuffed lion, an Egyptian mummy, cut crystal glassware – the list goes on!  All staged against photos taken during those times.

The Pool in the Alcazar is now a Museum Cafe

We later strolled Old Town along pedestrian-only and very touristy George Street, eating ice-cream and thinking good thoughts about all the devoted grandparents pushing prams.  That was until a white fluffy dog popped its head up from under the covers.  Yes, it’s trending!  So, it was time then, Alice, to get back to reality.  We needed to knock a few more miles off our Mile 1018 start point total (from West Palm Beach.  Norfolk in Virginia is Mile 0 of the ICW) and judging by the northerlies and wild surf running at the St Augustine Inlet, an outside run up the coast was not an option.  GS sighed with relief

The quiet end of George Street. 
At least one dog was on a lead!

Skipping Shipping Hazards

Twins.  Let's Sea & WJ3 buddy up

Mike alerted us to a satellite launch from Cape Canaveral

Cap’n & crew arrived at Vero Beach Marina, thankfully in one piece, and settled in to marina life tucked away on a well-sheltered mooring ball.  Luckily for us, we shared with fellow Hunter 460 owners, Mike & Cala, on “Let’s Sea”.  So, much information was swapped and shared – and worse, new ideas generated!  The good times had to end, and after spending our time doing chores, shopping to replenish our sadly depleted larder, buying boat bits and doing repairs aplenty, it was time to move on.  We did wonder why we were the only ones heading north.  Still, those nasty, snow-laden fronts were at last, tracking well to the north, so there was some joy in that.  And our new Walmart tracksuits were proving just the ticket!  Given that we’d not had much “down time”, and a few more electrical issues had just cropped up (sigh!), we promised ourselves a few days respite in either Daytona or St Augustine.  

Flagship Towing to the rescue

Sadly, not everyone makes it though. Possibly hurricane damage?

However, ahead and lurking at New Smyrna Beach, was an infamous shoaled area of the ICW.  Even though we set forth in foggy conditions that morning, we managed to avoid it, so were feeling somewhat smug.  Its twin, half a mile further on, lay in wait though.  This time we became well and truly stuck on an unmarked sand bar in the middle of a supposedly dredged channel.  WJ3’s stern was in 8 feet of water, the bow stuck on 3.  Despite trying all the tricks of the trade to wriggle her off, nothing worked.  Worse, the tide was going out, quickly.  We’d become a shipping hazard in the blink of an eye!!

Then of course, out of the fog, along came the cavalry!  Flagship Towing must have been alerted to our plight and after some negotiations we settled on a fee for his assistance to release WJ3.  Our guy certainly earned his money, that’s for sure…  Finally, we were floating again, then carefully led through the danger zone without further mishap.  What a star!

In case you are wondering…  Yes, we had taken out towing insurance.  But had not yet been able to negotiate a sim card for use in the US, which = NO local phone.  (In Aus, we just about give sim cards away to anyone at Arrivals.)  Apparently, tow companies do not respond to VHF calls and who wants to disturb the Coast Guard?  So here we are in St Augustine, having successfully negotiated the equally hazardous Matanzas Inlet, shopping for a sim card.  Wish us luck!

Bridge of Lions at St Augustine

The Matanzas Inlet is a site famous in America’s pre-history.  In 1565, Spanish forces, led by Pedro Menendez de Aviles, defeated French forces, securing Spanish control of Florida for some 235 years.  Matanzas means “massacre” and we are pleased to say that, expertly negotiated by our Cap’n and charted by AquaMaps & Bob423 (our new charting system now in place), it was NOT another Tow Boat call out for us, this time. 

Ponce de León, the first Governor of Puerto Rico (1508), led in 1513 the first known European expedition of Florida.   Here in St Augustine, along with its remarkable Spanish Fort (1672), is a Fountain of Youth said to be discovered by de León.  GS sipped the waters in good faith in 2009.  After 17 years, she notes, it appears not to be working!  

St Augustine's character Lighthouse

That's the Bridge of Lions through today's fog...

The Shallows

Now, we’ve travelled the 1019 miles of Norfolk to Lake Worth ICW a few times since our first run in 2009.  It’s not our first rodeo as the Yanks like to say.  So, we are well versed in its challenging patches – the Georgia marshes, South Carolina’s shape-shifting, shallow inlets, North Carolina’s vast open bays and crab-pot lined channels.  Florida is never an issue.  Usually…  2024’s hurricane season saw much damage through this area and the Corps of Engineers, whose task it is to maintain ICW depths, have been stretched beyond their maintenance limits.  We use Navionics, paper charts and good ol’ Skipper Bob’s guide to anchorages (and nav alerts) along this waterway.  Even so, we still watch our depth gauge like hawks and stick to the magenta line (middle) of the channel.  

One of the 10 bridges encountered on our first day on the ICW.
At most of them, we had to request or wait, for an opening.

The Blue Heron Bridge (a fixed bridge), only a mile into our journey north, is known as a bit of an unspoken challenge, offering less than the prescribed 65feet above the water.  The marker indicated 64ft, we need 63ft to not crunch the mast & various antennas attached to it.  We sallied forth, having never hit before.  This time, the VHF antenna touched, bending well over, thankfully not breaking.  

Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse
Perhaps we should have been paying more attention to it?

Our first day on the ICW went downhill from there.  We hit bottom at Jupiter Inlet finding 4½ ft (our keel is 5½), the Captain’s favourite chair jumped ship in Hobe Sound (but was fortunately recovered and read the riot act), then nearly lost our way in the confusion of markers, shoals, and skinny water in St Lucie Inlet crossing, and found ground at the Jensen Beach designated anchorage, supposedly 7-8ft, finding 3 ½.  Thankfully, our trusty Cap’n used a passing wake to hobby-horse WJ3 back into the ICW.   The up side of the day, was manatee watching whilst we waited for the Indiantown Road Bridge, and spotting dolphins, jumping rays, turtles, and loads of birdlife along the way.  Plus, it was warm.  Spring is in the air – well, at least in Florida!  

A well cared for (possibly historic) home along the waterway. 
Note the widow's walk fenced in on the roof top. 
Here, a Captain's wife would watch out to sea for his ship to come home. 

Fort Piece then, was our last chance for an anchorage before nightfall.  We chose to shelter in the protection of Causeway Island and nervously negotiated our way off the ICW.  Needless to say, we misread the channel's green and red markers before finding deeper waters. (Red, right, returning - only we weren't at the time -oops!)  WJ3's anchor was set just on dusk – at an early 6pm.  We had travelled over 50nm in 10 hours, negotiated 10 bridges and some seriously shoaled rivers & inlets.  Florida is supposed to be the easy part of the ICW – just what was in store for us over the next 3-4 weeks before Norfolk and Chesapeake?  Vero Beach was only 16nm away.  We couldn’t wait to get there!

Joy Ride

Approaching the WPB Inlet.  Welcome back to the Unites States!!
If we had broken down, GS was prepared to swim the rest of the way in...

Just inside the West Palm Beach inlet is a huge anchorage area, Lake Worth.  It is bustling with freighters, cruise ships, barges pushed by tugs, tour boats, sail & motor boats and pleasure craft of all persuasions.  Marinas line its shores; posh ones for the superyachts, facilities for racing boats, marinas for regular folk and heaps of yards.  Everyone who has a waterside home along the ICW seems to have a dock and some kind of watercraft too.  Boating is big business in the US.  

Looking south from our anchorage in Lake Worth

Lake Worth is also busy with hundreds of sailboats and motor cruisers either waiting for a crossing window to the Bahamas/Caribbean or just sitting out winter in Florida’s sunshine.  Luckily, we found a decent space not too deep into the waterway, set the anchor in waters unaffected by ocean swell and celebrated our arrival watching the sun set.  A Margaritaville Cruise (a 3 day, booze, food and casino getaway) headed offshore and trains arced up those compulsory, loud, lonesome, night whistles that can be heard all along the ICW.  

Water Tank near our lunch stop

Our plan was to visit Immigration & Customs at the Port in the morning, settle our cruising permit, then have a long lunch sitting in the sunshine by the dock at the Tiki Bar, renown for it's Mexican food and giant cocktails.  We looked forward to easier motoring/sailing conditions heading north along the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (ICW).  A quiet Vero Beach Marina mooring, 2 days away, was in our sights for a week of repairs, rest and recovery.  Well, that was the plan…