Thursday

April 16, 2015

Hello to all. Its Thursday, April 16 3:40 PM. We are on an anchor at Fort Matanzas, Florida, having arrived here last night after a long northbound fifty-four mile run from New Smyrna Beach in the rain with a fifteen knot wind on our nose. But we were accompanied by dolphins on and off and we seemed to be the only boat on the ICW (at least in sight). Throw in a few manatees and virtually thousands of pelicans and the journey was anything but boring or uncomfortable.

We are laying low here at Fort Matanzas to rest up before beginning out long journey back to Virginia. Tomorrow we are bound for St Augustine to provision and visit new friends at Hurricane Patty’s (a local watering hole). Fort Matanzas was built in 1740 by slaves, indentured servants and a few drunk Spaniards and used to defend the southern approach to St. Augustine against those low rent, dirty scoundrel English raiders.   

We arrived back in Florida on April 1 after spending three and a half months in Virginia for Christmas with friends and family and rotator cuff surgery. The cold, snow, dark winter days, surgery and rehab just about did me in. But we are back at it. Flicka has a brand new dinghy (little boat used to come and go), life raft (more on life rafts later), new bottom paint and other upgrades. Our original plan would have had us in the Bahamas all this time but the surgery rehab took longer than I expected. The Bahamas are just going to have to get along without us until next year. So we are bound for home over the next six weeks largely covering the same ICW route and maybe a few off shore runs.

I have been remiss in blogging so I have some catching up to do. Just hitting the highlights for the past two weeks.

We spent the first week back in Florida working on the boat and driving around looking at stuff. Splashed Flicka in on April 8 and on the 9th left Titusville headed south making 40 miles to Melbourne. The next day we headed south to Vero Beach where we met my old high school buddy Dennis Latta and his girlfriend Pat. Dennis is recently retired and living in Florida. He had a remarkable career as chief sports editor for the Albuquerque Journal. His many experiences included ten final fours and watching Mohamed Ali dance around a few opponents. We had dinner together at the Dockside Grill in Vero Beach. The owner was especially attentive to us because Dennis had wowed him earlier in the day with sports stories.

Next day we motored south with Dennis and Pat to Fort Pierce where for a while we watched the ongoing salvage operation of a barge that sunk in the middle of the inlet.  Fort Pierce is where one begins to see that azure blue tinge to the waters characteristic of the topics. Emily and I were planning to go off shore at this Inlet on our journey north but the sunken barge changed our minds.

We motored back to Vero with some pleasant sailing on a broad reach, said our goodbyes to Pat and Dennis and anchored a little north of Vero Beach. On Sunday, April 12 we motored northward on the ICW for forty-five miles and anchored in the vicinity of Cocoa Beach and on Monday, we motored from Cocoa to just north of  the Addison Point Bridge that connects the mainland to Cape Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center.

We were there to watch the anticipated launch of a Space X Falcon 9 rocket that was to carry two tons of supplies to the International Space Station. Space X is a private company under contract with NASA. They have made multiple deliveries to the space station over the past few years. They are working on a way to capture the jettisoned rocket on an ocean barge for reuse. We had a front row seat for the scheduled 4:33PM launch but at T minus four minutes it was cancelled due to thunderstorms in the area. The US space effort is a remarkable story – one that these days seems sort of routine to us mortals. But the actual story as it is unfolding today is anything but routine. Soon two astronauts (actually one astronaut and one cosmonaut will live aboard the space station for a year.  One can read about it at the NASA web site. Lots of great science being done and many heroic stories.

The launch did not happen for us so we left that anchorage and went to Titusville where we anchored for the night just outside of the Titusville City Marina. Off course the launch went off successfully the next day.

On Tuesday, we left Titusville, crossing through Haulover Canal where saw hundreds of roseate spoonbills and many manatees. I’m not sure there is anything more beautiful than a roseate spoonbill in flight. Thirty-one miles later anchored for the night at New Smyrna Beach and on Wednesday we slogged our way to Fort Matanzas. So here we are. St Augustine tomorrow for a couple of days then homeward bound.

Monday

December 13, 2014


Today Emily and I were hypnotized, mesmerized and bewitched by manatees at Blue Springs State Park about an hour northwest of Titusville, where FLICKA is tied up at the Westland Marina awaiting haul out. Titusville is near Cape Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center. They love their astronauts down here. Titusville is home to the Astronaut Hall of Fame and NASA attractions (National Aeronautics and Space Administration).                     

Florida has many unique natural features, including a number of fresh water springs that issue forth crystal clear water at a constant year round temperature of 71 to 75 degrees F. These springs are a hit with scuba divers and swimmers and manatees – which were here first.

Blue Springs, an hour northwest of Titusville, is one of these. This spring has, as its source, a nearly circular pool about 100 feet in diameter and 30 feet deep. One hundred million gallons of blue-green tinted water flows daily from it into the St. Johns River. The spring run to the St. Johns River is about a mile long, maybe a quarter mile wide and very deep in places.
 
 
The Florida manatee (Trichechus manatus latirostris), a subspecies of the West Indian manatee, is, oddly enough, more closely related to elephants than other marine or aquatic mammals. Go figure. This native, tropical animal has roamed Florida’s coastal and inland waters for God knows how long. During the summer months at least some of the 3,500 to 5,000 remaining individuals range northward as far as Georgia, returning to Florida in the winter. They will not venture into any waters lower than 68 degrees. Smart critters them guys are!

Blue Springs is one of their winter havens. I bet they have been coming here for tens if not hundreds of thousands of years. Think about that for a moment.
 
 
In addition to Florida’s springs, these days they also seek out areas around power plants, which discharge heated water as part of their normal operations. During the winter they bask in these warm waters, lazily cuddling up to one another and feeding on local aquatic vegetation, doing what manatees do – which seems to be a whole lot of nothing most of the time.

The latest count at Blue Spring is somewhere around 140 individuals. Of course now a days the manatees share these springs with human beings, Blue Springs having become a swimming mecca to thousands annually. Fortunately swimming is not allowed during the specific time when the manatees are present in the winter months. (Thank God for those onerous, freedom robbing guvmit regulators.)
 
 
These animals are big. They are referred to, unattractively I think, as sea cows. A large adult might go ten - twelve feet and weigh 1,200 – 1,500 lbs. Calves are 70 lbs. or so and maybe 4 feet long. They are surprisingly agile and, anthropomorphically speaking, act rather playfully. We watched them swim slowly and gracefully in loose formations of two to five animals. Sometimes a pair seemed to be cuddling and one of the pair would place its flipper on the other and sort of hitch a ride. Occasionally they would surface to breathe (being mammals and all) and sometimes roll over onto their backs, behavior reminiscent of sea otters I have seen in other parts of the world. All in all a docile critter, with a gentle nature and manner. Their face is something only a mother could love.

Manatees are endangered. Sadly, most of the remaining individuals have body scars from boat propellers – primarily power boats but I suspect a few sail boats are probably also culprits.

Scaring is used by state and federal biologists to identify individual manatees. Let me repeat that for effect– most of the remaining individuals of this species on this planet have been scared by boat propellers and that is how we identify each individual – by its own unique scar signature.

All along the intra-coastal water way in this neck of the woods – there are prominent signs announcing that these are manatee waters. The signs caution boaters to be careful and not exceed 25 mph. Twenty-five MPH is fast on the water. A boat doing 25 mph hardly has time to miss these ponderous animals who swim slowly along just below the water’s surface. I’m not sure what the rationale is for that speed limit.

The good news is that dedicated natural resource managers in these parts are working on manatee conservation and lots of citizen volunteers’ help implement manatee education programs for the public.  At Blue Springs Park at the end of the “manatee walk’ was a display table manned by a group of volunteers who inform people about manatee status and encourage folks to get involved with the conservation effort. They are amazing people – very dedicated to their cause.

So anyway – that’s my manatee story and I’m sticking to it.

God bless these people.
 
 

Lately I have been thinking and reading about Earth’s threatened and endangered plants and animals. Most of us have general knowledge about that subject, but when you start to dig a little and become a little better educated about basic ecological principles, the impact of human activities on plant and animal populations becomes suddenly a much larger, compelling and important subject I think. By many accounts I have studied, many animal and plant species are on the brink of extinction. Looking down the road, and if some predictions are correct, I can’t help to wonder what the world will be like without them. Maybe it doesn’t matter. I have never seem a white rhinoceros or lion or springbok or, for that matter, most of the animals biologists tell us are endangered or threatened, but the sadness I felt when I recently learned that there are only 5 white rhinos left on earth was real enough.  

Can we somehow live on this planet with other species besides those we have domesticated? So far evidence suggests that we are not able to do that. Many of the world’s species have become extinct on our watch and numbers of many other species are fast dwindling. Much of the overall story and current picture is disheartening.

However, there is a cadre of remarkable scientists, natural resource managers and citizen activists working world wide to improve this dismal picture and in some cases, there are teams of people protecting the last few remaining members of some species – like New Zealand’s kakapo (I know, go ahead and laugh.). The kakapo, a large, flightless, nocturnal New Zealand parrot, was once was a common bird on New Zealand’s islands, but today there are one hundred and twenty-six individuals left, those individuals having been captured and ‘translocated’ to three small, remote predator-free islands. The kakapo population has been ravaged by introduced cats, opossums, rats and stoats (a kind of weasel).

By the way – here is an interesting pearl – New Zealand never had a native population of mammals of any kind (except for a few bats). Any mammal on New Zealand’s islands is an exotic (except for those damn bats) and they have played hell on the native plants and animals. Because of the lack of mammalian species in New Zealand prior to human habitation, bird species flourished there. Of course that is no longer true because once predacious mammals were introduced the birds began dropping – well - like flies. A number of moa species (large flightless birds) are gone and the kiwi (another flightless bird) is threatened. New Zealand had a thing for evolving flightlessness in birds, after all if there aren’t any predators why expend all that energy flying around. [Information about New Zealand extracted from a recent article in the New Yorker, December 22, 29, 2014. The Big Kill, New Zealand’s invasive mammal species, by Elizabeth Kolbert.

I recommend two very well researched and written books on the broad subject of animal extinction.

The first is No Way Home: the Decline of the World’s Great Animal Migrations by Princeton Professor of Public Affairs, Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, David S. Wilcove. Dr. Wilcove chronicles stories of the demise of large land and marine mammals, insects, amphibians and other animals and addresses reasons for those declines.

The second – The Sixth Extinction – an Unnatural History by Elizabeth Kolbert, New York staff writer for the New Yorker magazine. Ms. Kolbert talks about the world’s known periods of animal and plant extinctions, the first five being caused by ‘natural’ events and the sixth which we are living through the latest and largest in scope and depth, largely caused by human activities. She writes with equal passion about the people trying to save engendered species and the species themselves.

So Emily and I ended up our day by driving back down to Titusville, and visiting, for a second time, the 140,000 acre Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, an area of coastal dunes, saltwater estuaries and marshes, freshwater impoundments, scrub, pine flatwoods, and hardwood hammocks that provide habitat for more than 1,500 species of plants and animals.

We drove the 12 mile Black Point Wildlife Trail and noted the following bird species: American Widgeon, Northern Shoveler, Hooded Merganger, Wood stork, Double Crested Cormorant, White Pelican, Brown Pelican, Pied-billed Grebe, Great Blue Heron, Great Egret, Tricolored Heron, Reddish Egret, Cattle Egret, Royal Tern, White and Glossy Ibis, Roseate Spoonbill, Black Vulture, Turkey Vulture, Common Gallinule, Ring billed and Laughing Gulls, Fish Crow, Common and Boat-tailed Grackles and American Coot and many old coots doing what we were doing – just hanging around.  

Namaste’

Wednesday

December 9, 2014


0930 – under way from Daytona Wind N 45 degrees.

Miles of high rise, medium high and no high rise condos. Still beautiful natural setting.

1100 Clearing Ponce de Leon Inlet

1145 – First BND

1245 – What a difference a few miles makes. We are in a beautiful canal with lots of wetlands, islets and an intricate set of backwashes to the east. Lots of birds.

1400 - Entered the land of the RV Park – extensive (Emily says – Oh My God – or OMG for all you device people)

1500 – Traversed Haulover Canal with hopes of anchoring in a ‘sweet spot’ small anchorage at mile 869 – but – OMG – it was occupied by 6 or 7 MANATEES. Ain’t that a kick – they got there first. That was our last shot at an anchorage. Damn those manatees. On to Titusville.
Manatee Country
 
 

1645 – Anchored in Titusville harbor wind N 15-20. We have arrived at our final destination for this leg of the journey. Tomorrow – Westland Marina for a haul out and flight home on Dec 15.

December 8, 2014

Last night the wind – out of the north blew 20-25 with gusts to 35 knots – now you know why setting the anchor properly is a big deal.

Today ain’t no better. Hunkering down to wait it out. Rain, wind. Read, sleep, read, sleep, read, sleep, etc.

December 7, 2014


Left our anchorage at Fort Matanzas and headed down the ICU past Matanzas Inlet on our way to Daytona Beach. Wind N 10 – 15 knots. 65 degrees.
Guys Working their Crab Pots - Look at those Wedges
Lester Bower's Daytona Beach Condominium

Anchored at mile 829 at Seabreeze Bridge on the Halifax River in a 20 knot wind. Welcome to Daytona Beach. Not much here I’m interested in. Sorry Daytona.

December 6, 2014

A day off. Stayed on our anchorage to kill time. Not due in Titusville until the 15th. Enjoyed a warm day, watching boats come and go, pelicans fish, tide coming and going.

Winds N 10-15. Temp 68, no precipitation

Our Anchorage this Morning

We completed some projects. Always projects on a boat.

I rearranged the ground tackle - which is all the stuff aboard having to do with anchoring - the anchor(s) of course, but also the anchor chain, rope (called rode), shackles and other various items. Chain – actual chain - is part of the ground tackle assembly because it weighs more than rope (remember rope is called line on a boat – rode when it’s part of the ground tackle). Chain, because of its weight, helps to hold the anchor down.

Proper anchoring is an absolute necessity to ensure a measure of safety, especially when anchoring in unsettled weather. Notice I said a measure of safety. Past performance is no guarantee of future gains. You do not want your anchor to drag on a cold, rainy night during a gale force wind.

Anchors have to be sized to the boat and there is an anchor for every kind of bottom (holding ground). Sometimes one should employ two anchors in the circumstance of questionable holding ground.

How does one know what the bottom is like in a given location? You can know by measuring the nature of the bottom the way the old time mariners did it – by greasing their lead line (a weighted line for checking depth), dropping it over board and seeing what sticks – mud, shell, etc. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Or you can consult modern charts (marine maps) that generally provide that information – at least in a general sense. Mariners through the ages have kept that kind of information as part of their daily ship’s log and those records have been compiled and published, thankfully, by highly energetic men like Mathew Fontaine Maury, an American astronomer, historian, oceanographer, meteorologist, cartographer, author, geologist, and educator. (Yes, I’m using Wikipedia.)

A monument to Maury can be found in, of all places, Goshen Pass, VA. He was a naval officer but a leg injury kept him from sea duty. Following the Civil War, in which he served admirably, he taught at the Virginia Military Institute. Maury and others compiled and published nautical information about wind, currents, bottom composition and other maritime elements all over the globe. Their work is the basis for ‘pilot charts’ and ‘sailing directions’ - reference materials that provide guidance to mariners everywhere.   

On board Flicka we have five anchors, a Bruce, three Danforths and a Delta. The Bruce and Delta are stored on the bow in anchor chocks ready for deployment, each attached to its respective rodes, which are in turn attached to the boat in the anchor locker or forepeak. The Bruce we have is actually a Chinese knockoff which means it is probably cast instead of forged. The Bruce (knockoff) is our ‘best bower’ at the moment – the one most often deployed – stored on the starboard roller. The Delta is our ‘small bower’ – which is not really smaller – stored on the port roller. (Bored yet?)

One of the Danforth’s is stored on deck amidships, ready to be deployed as needed. Another smaller Danforth is in a canvas bag attached to 50 feet of chain, itself attached to 150 of nylon rode – to be deployed as a kedge anchor if needed. (Which we damn well had to use on this trip.) Kedging is what you do when you run aground. You put your kedge anchor in your dinghy and row it out to deeper water, put it over – back to the boat you go - paying the kedge rode out – set the kedge as best you can and after waiting an appropriate amount of time for the tide to turn and for yourself to calm the hell down, you slowly winch your sell off – hopefully!

Yet another smaller Danforth serves as a dinghy anchor.

Different anchors are designed for specific kinds of holding ground. Fortunately for us amateurs, the Bruce, Danforth and Delta cover many of the circumstances in which we have found ourselves.

So you pull into a place to anchor and the wind is whipping at you at 20 knots and there is a 4 knot tidal cross current that will change sometime in the night. There are shoal waters to the north and somewhere just to the south the chart says there is a sunken derelict boat hazard. 

Once you have made your best determination that the place you have chosen is the safest possible under the circumstances – working with your mate at the helm – in this case Captain Emily - you toss the anchor over board and back away from it – paying out the anchor chain as you go.

Then comes the most important, the most crucial step and that is setting the anchor – backing down until you ‘feel’ it grab the bottom as it is designed to do. Then and only then are you anchored – reasonably sure that you are ‘down’ – notice I said reasonably sure.

However at that point it’s time for an evening cocktail – or two.

On to more adventures tomorrow.

Good night.

Saturday

December 5, 2014

1330 – Left River’s Edge Marina after washing the boat (at least the dirtiest spots). Moderate NW wind temp 70 outgoing tide – partly sunny – pretty good forecast – chance of slight showers.

1436 – Matanzas River – south bound Anastasia Island to port. Red Power boat headed at us – Hey Tow Boat US – our good friend’s big towing business. Raining – nice day for ducks, fish and sailors

1447 – Large flock of WP (white pelicans)

 
Mark 47 Capsian Tern (Sterna caspia) on the buoy. Terns are related to gulls. Most terns feed on small fish by diving head first into the water.

If you don’t like the weather just wait a while – the ‘pretty good’ forecast of this morning as been altered a bit – now feeling our way through dense fog, rising winds, Rounded mark 81A into the Matanzas River (leaving ICW) for our anchorage Cut the corner a little to close and ‘bumped’ along bottom momentarily for another heart stopping moment but slid off quickly into deeper water. Anchored at 1530 in 11 feet with contrary current/wind. Lots of BPs and new bird – roseate spoonbill (Platalea ajaja) just flew over. That was a treat.

Anchored in site of Fort Matanzas, built by the Spanish in 1742 to keep those friggin' beer swizzling, dirty limey English pricks from sneaking through the Matanzas Inlet and up the southern arm of the Matanzas River to St. Augustine.


Our anchorage on the Matanzas River
Fort Matanzas in the Background 
 
Short day – killing time before our arrival at Titusville where Flicka gets a rest and we fly home for Xmas, 779 to 794 - 15 miles today.