Here is a view, looking east toward the mooring field in Marathon from ILENE.

LOTS of masts. and more beyond them. A few of the boaters are at the marinas dock, a seawall.

And the marinas inner dinghy dock with lots of room. They have as much room again at the outer dinghy docks to the right at the rear end of the photo.  And they have "project rooms" where you can sew sails, varnish your oars, etc.

We had a very pleasant day with Bev, who was introduced to us by my friend, Hugh. She picked us up in her truck and drove us back to her beautiful home on Duck Key, about twelve nautical miles back east from here. Bev served us a lunch, let us do laundry and take showers, took me to Home Depot and Lene to Publix and then we had happy hour and dinner with her at the Sunset Grill, at the western end of Marathon, with great sunsets, before driving us back to our dink. It was a very full afternoon, on a day when the wind had moderated somewhat so we were not afraid to leave ILENE unattended. Bev lost her husband, suddenly, less than two years ago. They were boaters so she knows how to treat cruisers. She has five lovely grandkids in MA and in MO, where she will be moving back to soon. Bev is a pretty woman but sadly declined the offer to appear in this blog. Duck Key is an upscale residential community on an island south of Route 1, with mostly waterfront homes on the canals that run through the island. Shopping is a ten mile drive to Marathon. Sadly, we may never see you again Bev, but if you ever come to NYC and we are home, there is a berth for you.

These manatees come to the dock where there is a fresh water hose. But we are not supposed to feed them water because it encourages them to come in too close where they get hurt by propeller blades. You can see a white scar on mommas back (upper left). She is ten feet long! They are vegetarians and will not intentionally harm a human. Sort of a weird cross between a walrus head, a whales body and a beavers tail.

While at Home Depot, with a lot of help from a very knowledegable staffer, I bought all of the parts (except nuts, bolts, washers and sealant -- which I had) to install the aft, 360 degree white running light atop a length of PVC pipe.

The problem was that the base of the light had only a threaded hole for a six mm bolt. I needed to create a stub to stick into the PVC. About two hours of work the next morning in the wind sheltered inner dinghy dock area, and it is done. Until now we had to hold the white light on the top of one of our heads, which gets tiring on the arms after a while. And while I was at it, after looking at MANY other dinks at the dock, I tied a thin short line around the base of the dinks red and green bow light, with the other end secured in the boat. So when, the section cup fails, as it will, the $35 light will fall into the boat rather than into the sea.

Then we met Alex, proprietor of SeaTek. He had come recommended by John and Marcia of s/v Remora. A very pleasant and efficient young man with a beard who lives aboard his boat, anchored here. He advised us to visit Marquesas Key on our way to the Tortugas, and stay in an unmarked place where the water is deep enough. He is also an intelligent and inexpensive marine electrician. He came to our boat, fixed a lot of things electrical and ordered the "combiner" we need to solve our battery charging problem which he will install when we stop here on our way north. I had caused one problem when I installed the batteries: I crossed two black cables causing the Link interface to confuse the two batteries. Another problem was a fuse that took ten seconds to replace. He pointed out a poor crimp which I fixed after he left. I took the aft part of the boat apart before he got here to save time and was very pleased with how much he got accomplished in one $70 hour.

An afternoon of shuffleboard followed by Lene watching her TV shows on the Marinas wifi while I visited the Marathon YC, where, as Harlem members we are welcome to dine. They have 300 members, mostly power boats, and only 20 slips -- no moorings. Most of the members keep their boats at back yard docks in the canals. A rather unforgettable, except for presentation, dinner at Marathon Steak and Lobster rounded out our visit here.

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It took only three hours with a fifteen minute delay at a bridge near our destination that opens only every twenty minutes. Cold but clear with more wind than yesterday so we used only the small jib. We passed the Ponce de Leon Inlet with its distinctive lighthouse by the sea.

There were alternate buoyed routes at two points in this short passage and we took the one officially marked as the "ICW route" which was inland from the light. The last time I was here was crewing on a northbound 74 foot motor yacht, m/v "Sea Leaf," in 2012. Then we stopped at a marina by the light before jumping out into the Atlantic for a romp up to Beaufort NC.
Today we could have gone another 32 miles to Titusville, but we broke the trip there from Daytona into two parts by stopping here because Lene heard or read that New Smyrna is a nice town.  This has emerged as our plan for the winter: We are going south in Florida slowly. We are already in Florida but have several hundred miles to get to the Dry Tortugas, which is as far as one can go in the U.S.  This involves a lot of the ICW because many of the ports are not easily accessible from the sea. The two hops from Lake Worth to Fort Lauderdale and from there to Miami Beach, will be out in the Atlantic, during good weather, because of bridges. There are so many bridges that you have to wait for in the first such hop and a fixed 56 foot bridge in the second that we just can not ever get under. And the trip in the Keys is planned as a mix of inside and outside jumps. Having stopped almost everywhere in Florida on our way south, we plan to skip a lot of these same stops on the way north by going outside. A plan that has sort of come to us and like all plans is waiting to be changed.
Anyway New Smyrna is a very nice cozy well run, friendly municipal marina with good showers but mediocre wifi.

We are at the furthest out slip, which, given how small this place is, was not a disadvantage. In fact it was an advantage because we had a clear unobstructed view of the Christmas Parade of lighted boats on Saturday night from our cockpit. About 20 boats, both power and sail, decked out in vastly colorful lights came up the ICW right past our cockpit. The photos do not do the spectacle justice.
They have a decent history museum here run by the historical society with interesting local artifacts such as the equipment used to cut "cats faces" (shallow "V" shaped slashes) on pine trees to collect the sap to make turpentine. The town got its name from the home town of the founders wife in Greece. The Marina is in the background, two blocks from the museum and between them is a 20 foot high plateau

on which is the ruins of the foundation of either the home that was shelled and burned in a naval bombardment from two US gunboats during the Civil War or a fort. The signage was more directed against vandalism than providing information. The museum has a copy (or original of an affidavit signed by a survivor, after the war, in support of a claim for reparations, asserting that no member of the family lifted arms in support of the Confederacy. I was interested in how the legal form of the affidavit has been relatively unchanged from then to today.
One thing I forgot to report from the museums in St. Augustine is that during the civil war, excluding the native Americans, the total population of Florida was less than 10,000, more than half of them slaves. But you cant believe all you learn in museums: In Fernandina I was told that the original native Americans here were a peaceable and matriarchal society; in St Augustine the story was about the chiefs and the wars between them. Because we can not talk to them directly anymore, each historian draws his or her own conclusions.
The main drag on this half of town, west of the ICW, is called Canal Street,

about six blocks long. We had dinner one night at Yellow Dog Eats on that street, which specializes in variations on pulled pawk. Saturday the street was closed for an antique and classic car show. My friend Jim would have loved the car show. Meticulously maintained and highly shined cars from the 30s through the 70s simply parked on the street, with their owners in lawn chairs nearby to answer questions. Some pride themselves on all original components while others have replaced the interior mechanicals with more powerful and efficient engines.
We took the shuttle bus that picked us up at the far end of Canal Street at Dixie Highway and took us to the beach.

The fare is $0.75 one way for a senior. After a stroll on the beach, we walked the two plus miles back through the main drag of the beach side of town, Flagler Street, and across the bridge that detained us on our passage into town.

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No, not a Maritime Museum. This is one of the fishing boats used by the Danes in WWII to smuggle most of their 7000 Jews into neutral Sweden. It is one of the many artifacts in the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

I spent a whole day (10 to 5:15) here and did not see it all. Designed of the same beautiful pale yellow stone that is used in most other government buildings in this city, the interior has a long atrium around which the horrible history unfolds, as one starts on the fourth floor and works ones way down. This atrium is glass covered and reminded me of a railroad station  -- such an integral part of the Germans "Final Solution". I have been to such museums in NY, Jerusalem and smaller ones in many other cities but none that were as comprehensive, with a significant slant on US responses before, during and after the war. It showed how gradually Hitler came to power, consolidated his power and set to work first trying to drive the Jews out by making life unbearable and dangerous, then deporting them and finally, exterminating them. One huge wall of etched glass, has the names of the numerous European towns where Jews lived before Hitler, including my fathers birthplace, Untergrombach, middle row, right, with my imagined "RR Station" below.

The place was very crowded with lots of high school kids who were very respectful. I was quite moved by the experience. The museum repeatedly discussed the plight of the Roma (gypsies) and other victims. It also had exhibits on the three post-Holocaust genocides: Cambodias killing fields, the Serbo-Croation conflict and Rwanda. It seems humanity has not learned yet, despite the saying "Never Again! We had lunch in the museums cafe, located in a small building outside the Memorial.
Our final day was for Congress and the Library of Congress. We had planned to visit the adjacent Supreme Court as well. I had to be admitted to its Bar to oppose a Petition for Certiorari  in the late 70s. (Since about 95 to 99 percent of such petitions are denied, winning that one was rather easy.) But our tourism stamina gave out before we got there, which was a shame because Lene has never been there. On our way we passed the Frances Perkins Department of Labor Building.

Ms. Perkins was one of FDRs "brain trust" and the first female Secretary of Labor. She co-taught a seminar in labor history I took at Cornell in about 1964.
In 2008 Congress opened a huge underground entrance, visitors center, "Emancipation Hall," with Museum, gift shops, a large cafeteria and many restrooms to handle the throngs of tourists. We were shown an inspirational movie about how well Congress works, which is somewhat of a joke given todays hyperpartisanship. Leah, our assigned

tour guide was energetic and bright with the kids but the tour did not include either house of the Congress. We easily secured a pass to visit the House, which was in session, but just barely. The person acting as speaker recognized a stream of Representatives who rose to give speeches of up to four minutes. It was mostly women in red suits on the Democratic side and men in blue suits on the other side. Several democrats spoke in favor of refinancing the Highway Trust Fund and opposing yet-another bill to restrict abortion, which the Republicans are addicted to and will undoubtedly pass. The Republicans spoke in favor of the anti-abortion bill and in memory of slain police officers. They all spoke to an almost empty room. The speeches go into the Congressional Record and are fodder for the folks back home. "See how I represented your interests!"
After lunch we visited the Library of Congress through an underground tunnel which avoids having to go through security again. Our first time here.

The entrance hall reminded me of The Hermitage in St. Petersberg, with its staircase, marble, red, statuary and grandeur.










The main reading room is much smaller than the one in NY but more elegant.

A highlight of my stay here was a visit to the Geography and Map division, where I was given access to their collection of nautical charts published by the United States Navys  Hydrographic Office from about 1850 to 1950. The charts are numbered, to about 6500, with some omissions. I have been studying them and cataloging them, as a volunteer in the Map Room of the NY Public Library for about seven years now. They describe the coastlines of the world (excluding the U.S. and the Philippines which are the subject of a similar series of charts published by the Coast Guard. Each branch of the armed forces had its champions in Congress and back in the 19th century they worked out this geographic compromise.)  I had a good conversation with the director of the map room who invited me back. Maybe, by land, some day.

I also saw a German antiquarian map of the world, in Latin, published a few decades after 1492, purchased for $11,000,000 (less than half of it taxpayer dollars), an exhibition of Herblock political cartoons, and a recreation of Thomas Jeffersons circular library of Monticello (he sold it to the government) with mostly his original books. He was a well read man.

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Yes, twelve fun filled active boating days (and two nights) for Lene and me. Six were sailing days which averaged only about 3.35 hours per day, plus a work day and two overnights. Before that, a fireworks party on the 37th floor of Devs apartment, which was great, including the fact that due to the distance from the event, the fireworks were like children should be: seen but not heard.

The first sail in this period was with two of the men from my Book group, Arthur

and Gary, Arthurs wife, Marie Genevieve (the photographer) and Rafael, their son, on his dads lap. This pic, like many others are taken on the launch because your correspondent is too busy sailing the boat to perform his photographic responsibilities, and because the bimini and dodger do too good a job of providing shade, which makes it hard to get good pictures.

So we had the Chief Librarian of a prestigious New York university, an Emmy Award winning Film Editor and a practicing Psychiatrist. They were my friends who have became Lenes friends as well. Marie is the sailor in the bunch, with lots of experience with her father in Europe, and took the helm most of the time, but her husband and son took stints. Rafa steered like a Navy Helmsman, taking orders such as "a little to the right" -- because at eight, he can not yet see over the binnacle.

Next up were four of Lenes friends who have become mine as well. Sheila, MJ, Christine and Heather, all repeat sailors whose pictures are in other posts. We put up less sail than normal and went at a slow stately pace that the guests appreciated. We started with reefed main and small jib but finished without the jib.

Then came Ilenes first sail on Bennett and Harrietts new Beneteau. Lene, as I had been, was quite impressed with the boat. I was able to whip the ends of all of her lines that terminate in the cockpit. Another day, not underway, will be needed to get the other ends of these lines. She has a lot less lines than On Eagles Wings.

A work day to get the top of the Genoa working and mostly sanding the cafe doors for another coat of varnish, which could not be applied because the varnish I had had jelled to a solid. I also got two spare fuel filters - expensive little buggers, which, in their boxes are now aboard in zip lock bags to prevent rust.

For the final three days and two nights of sailing, in addition to the human guests, Whitty and Alpha Girl got reacclimated to the boat. That process was hardly an event; they walked about like they owned the place and tried to get into the cabinet where their food is stored. Cats are smart, especially when their dinner is concerned. Alfie is quite at home inside the aft end of the stack pack, atop the boom, when ILENE is on a mooring. The red and black lines are the first and second reefing lines, respectively.

It is warm and quiet in there. But we have to remember always to make sure we see the little devils before we hoist the sails to avoid crushing them. Our human guests during the first of these three days were Jill and Ken, her boyfriend. She is the kitties Vet and he is a family therapist and soon to be published memoirist. Neither of their expert services were required for this voyage, just the pleasure of their company.

The most remarkable thing about this daysail was the tidal effect of the so called "Super Moon" -- which was full and at the point in its orbit closest to the earth, increasing its magnetic effect on the water. Coming north back toward the mooring we passed what is usually safely east of  Stepping Stones Light. The depth sounders beeping alerted us to the fact that the rocky seabed was only seven feet deep -- 16 inches below the bottom of our keel. I veered sharply to starboard to get further away -- toward deeper water. At high hide that day, the water would have been another eight feet deep. The same low tide problem almost prevented us from getting back to our mooring. Other members of our Club, who had intended to race that Friday evening, had to wait for the tide to rise a bit, being stuck in the mud.  We made a groove in the soft mud bottom for about ten yards of our approach to the mooring; inertia carried us through. Our keel is 5.66 feet deep and the water was only 5.6 feet deep. After dinner at the Club, I took our guests to the subway so they could get home and listened to our Clubs mostly amateur but great sounding six piece rock band playing. But it was already 9:30 and my bed time. A calm cool night.
Next day, after breakfast, our guest was Christine, a frequent sailor with us, here with Whitty.

We had the best sailing of the summer so far. We beat deeply into the south end of Little Neck Bay on eight tacks using Main and small jib, then ran out and through the passage behind Stepping Stones off Kings Point, which required three gybes, and finally turned south into Manhassett Bay to the M.B.Y.C. on a single starboard close reach. Lene had the helm most of the way and has mastered the art of taking advantage of puffs that round us up slightly. Our speed rarely dipped under six knots and on the broad reach we were making eight.
MBYC charges $60 for a mooring and has a lovely big pool. We got there late in the afternoon and lounged on the pools deck. It was not at all crowded and we just read. Later the pool attendant told us that our guest mooring fee did not include use of the pool. Apparently this rule resulted from an experience a few years ago when a boater with twelve souls aboard took a mooring and his guests clogged the swimming lanes. But MBCY has a great guest shower which we did use before an excellent dinner in their restaurant. From the restaurant deck, you see the pool in the foreground, their mooring field in mid ground and a wee bit of the east side of City Island under the setting sun.

Another good nights sleep and a good breakfast aboard before sailing back to the Harlem.









Before casting off, however, I finished the improvements that I had been working on. I hung the wool (or maybe cotton) wall hanging of a stylized sailboat that we got in Finland (dare I call it a tapestry?).  (Sorry about the color and underlined nature of this next paragraph; I didnt intend it and cant get out of it!)  I installed a new block at the base of the mast and a new fifth clutch on the starboard side of the coach roof, next to the other four of them there, so the winch there can handle the outhaul. From now on I can change the tension of the foot of the main sail and thereby trim it better without having to go forward to the mast, laying on my back there, having Lene steer up into the wind and hauling on the outhaul line manually. My only mistake was caused by Lewmar, which provided absolutely zero instructions on how to install their clutch. To release the four existing ones, I lift a lever that swivels up and forward on a pin at the forward end of the clutch. So I installed the new one with the lever moving the same way -- which was backward!!

All the others open one way; this new different one, the other!

In other words, when closed, the clutch did not hold the line when you want to lock it, but it did prevent you from tightening the line. But having done all the drilling and bolt and washer selection and grinding and snakeing of the line needed for the first installation, it took only ten more minutes to detach and reattach the clutch the right way. The clutch is fastened to the coach roof reinforced by strong washers, above this removable panel in the cabin ceiling.

This little job used an enormous number of specialized tools and I confess that I was pleased with myself. Thanks go to my rigger, Jeff Lazar, proprietor of Performance Yacht Management, who encouraged me to do it myself and gave me some helpful hints. He had also told me the size of the Allen stud which I installed myself (And I sorely regret that I did not bring my camera to the top of the mast to gain pictures of our clubhouse and mooring field from an altitude of 63.5 feet above sea level. Lene cranked me up and let me down gently. Another time for that photo.) While working from the top of the mast of a nearby boat Jeff also advised me to possibly shorten the strap at the clew of the Genoa to lower it a bit. The last step on the clutch job will be using a punch that Jeff recommended, and a hammer, to drive out a horizontal athwartship pin embedded in the forward end of the boom on which three thumb cleats rotate. They were used to hold the out haul line and the two reefing lines (red and black, remember) in place. Now, that the third and last of them is led to the cockpit, the thumb cleats are worse than superfluous --  they tend to chew up the lines.
Our sail home on Sunday in the late morning was via the shortest logical route on a variety of port reaches, from broad to close. It rained a bit en-route and with more and heavier  rain forecast for the afternoon,  and my shoulder getting sore from too much sailing, we made a short day of it.

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Lake Boca is a large rectangle of water cut into the west side of the beach strip of Boca Raton, from the Boca Inlet north for about  .4 miles, along the east side of the ICW, .2 miles wide. The center of it is very shallow with only the edges navigable for keel boats. Anchorage for sailboats is in the NE corner. Access to land is in a park with a boat ramp and dinghy dock on the west side of the ICW, just south of the Palmetto Park Boulevard Bridge, north of the lake (less than half a mile away). We will have to request an opening of that bridge when we leave to head north.

Craig had a better idea about where to go ashore, because the tide runs fast under the bridge and big boats go too fast and make wakes: his boat, Sangaris, pictured above, is docked in a canal at the back yard of a private home about a mile further north. He picked us up there and we got to see Sangaris again, after all her European adventures.

Ive been saying that when I get too old to sail ILENE, a radio controlled sailing boat on a lake may be in my future. Well Kathy had to work, Lene did her phone work from Kathy and Craigs house, and Craig took me to another gated community a bit further north called Kings Point, which has a lake in which his club races such boats. Beauties, one meter long, high aspect ratio,with 3/4 of the weight in the keel. The control box is worn on a strap around ones neck and the right thumb controls the rudder by pushing its joy stick left of right, while the left thumb controls both sails with back to pull them closer hauled and forward letting them fly for the downwind legs of the course. Below is Craig, demonstrating and Erwin, also a Past Commodore of the Harlem and racer, to the right.

All I can say is that it is a lot harder than it looks and I lost every race; actually I did not finish them. When aboard a boat you can easily see if your bow is pointed to the right or left of a buoy; you feel the tension of the water on the rudder; you can see how close to the wind you are. But offset by 50 to 100 yards and at a strange angle, these critical facts are not readily apparent at least not yet, to me. And rudder control is maintained by constant pressure of perhaps a half inch on the "tiller". But these things can be learned and the fifteen guys had a good camraderie going. Kathy is one of the guys and quite competitive when she is not working. I raced her boat, number 3. Erwin brought some beer for the "after". We plan to see Erwin again before heading north.

And in the evening we had dinner with not just Craig and Kathy, but also Mike and Janet. The latter have a Florida home and we will see them again at their home in St. Michaels, off the Chesapeake on Marylands Eastern Shore, on our way home. I forget to take their picture but they are pictured from when we visited them in the Chesapeake in 2012 if you want to take a look. A nice Greek restaurant.

We rented a car for one day for trips to cousin Naomi to pick up a late arriving bundle of mail from home, the pet food store, Publix, the automotive store for things for the dink, the post office, the bank and the beach.

On our last day we toured around Mizener Village, which is a ritzy shopping mall. I got some new shorts because none of my old ones are unstained. We had lunch out and saw The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which celebrates India and aging. Good but not as good as the first movie. The theater is called Ipic and does not really want to be in the movie business. Seats are very large and comfortable and $14 if you want to sit in the first two rows, or $24 if you want even more luxurious seats with free use of a pillow and blanket and free popcorn. And Ipic has a full service restaurant and bar that you can patronize before or after and provides delivery of food and drink to your seat during the movie. And no reduced rate for matinees or for seniors.  The staff said it is a "good place to impress your date on a special occasion". The film is apparently just a gimmick to get folks to come in and spend money on the "entertainment experience package". This hustle offends me and I hope it fails, though we were the only two in the sixteen "cheap" seats while perhaps ten people sat behind us. We have had nice warm dry calm weather while in Boca. Next stop: Palm Beach.

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Anchor and other problems.
Hurricane Harbor in Key Biscayne is well protected except from the Northwest, and that is where the wind was coming from in the morning of our departure. I went forward to remove the snubber in anticipation of hauling the anchor, and woah! we were dragging, beam to the wind, and fast -- toward the closed end of the harbor. We got out by prompt deft use of forward and reverse to swing our head around. Breakfast was deferred until after the two hour passage.

The 8.6 miles were easy, toward and past the City of Miami in an ugly cold grey wind with several periods of rain. A big sportfisher boat almost pushed us out of his way, overtaking us, as we headed for a 65 foot bridge; we slowed down to avoid him.

We anchored in the tidal "river" that was running south past the west side of Miami Beach. When we left her, ILENEs bow was thus pointed north, upstream, and was about 200 feet behind the stern of the boat anchored north of us.We actually picked up and re-dropped the anchor to find the perfect spot before taking a garbage/water/laundry run into town. I got a haircut during the wash cycle and we picked up some supplies on the way back. The tide was then flowing the other way, so our bow pointed south but our stern was only 15 feet from the bow of the boat behind us. How could this be?  He had used two anchors, one upstream and one down, to hold him stationary against the tides. Our single anchor let us move about 180 feet total, from south of the anchor to north of it. We were too close. So we picked up and tried to find another good spot. But with strong wind from the Northwest and tidal flow from the south, the boats were pointed in every direction. We thought that when we dropped back 90 feet from our anchor we would be fine but our neighbors swung too close to us --or we to them -- same difference. After several attempts, we went much further away from the more congested area and grabbed a spot off the outskirts shortly before sundown.
Our nearest neighbor to starboard was a young, Montrealer, live-aboard on a Bavaria, s/v "Paradigme 2.0".

 Nick complained vociferously about a catamaran on his starboard side which we could see was anchored, its crew absent, surging wildly back and forth almost hitting his boat. We invited him aboard for a beer but he brought his own; I guess that is the custom. He had his two Husky

rescue dogs in his dink and he told them to stay there, in French, of course. But they jumped from there to our dink and from there to our cockpit and gave our kittys a scare when they looked down into the cabin. Their tails got big and their backs arched. But no harm done. Here they are at a more placid time, on the porch; because I

have actually had a reader ask for more kitty pictures. Thanks, Kay.
The night was very windy. The wind would catch one side of the boat, heeling us as much as 20 degrees to leeward while the boat charged ahead as far as the anchor chain would permit, before turning her other side to the wind for the return trip leaning the other way. It seemed the howling wind was trying to rip out our slender tether to the earth. I checked our position frequently, instead of sleeping, but we were blessed   -- we did not drag. A wild night. In the morning, I looked out and saw a BIG problem: the dinghy was gone. Vanished. No where in sight. We called all boats and the Coast Guard responded and took a report. We called Nick who drove me in his dink through turbulent waters, over four miles, all the way to the seaward end of the breakwaters of Government Cut and back. We thought we might find the dink snagged at a waterside location, but I fear it was washed out to sea on the outgoing tide -- or stolen. Nick refused a financial recompense and offered to drive us to town but we stayed aboard the rest of the day and night to report the loss to the insurance company and the police and to shop by phone for a replacement. Like I said, days of problems. A bright side: once again we had the opportunity to experience the generosity that permeates the community of sailors.
Our guests were to arrive very late that night and Nick would have picked them up for us, but unaware of the dinghy loss they had elected to stay at a hotel the first two nights of their week here. On our second lay day here we worked in the aft cabin, transforming it from a storage locker to a guest chamber, largely by moving and arranging lots of stuff to the big lazarette in the cockpit. Then cleaning with Clorox, waxing with pledge and making the bed. Hey we run a four star joint, doncha know.
In the afternoon, we got a ride to shore with Nick and his two hounds and took him to lunch at Rosa Mexicana. Retired from the Canadian Air Force, he has a job offer selling boats in San Diego if he and his girl friend, who is currently in Canada because of a family death, can get their boat and car there. He is a very intelligent and personable young man who should do well with his extensive experience of sailing. Then we watched "Still Alice" at the Regal multiplex and did a shop at Publix before Nick, along with his friend David who is living on his own boat while trying to get work as a model,

drove us, our groceries and the two dogs home. We invited them for breakfast tomorrow after which Nick will pick up Christine and Heather at noon before we head for Coconut Grove with them.
We made arrangements to dock at the Coral Reef YC there for the next few days which gives time for the dink to be found. Jeff, of Lifeline Inflatables, is willing to defer our order and delivery until Monday, and to deliver in Coconut Grove.  So all told, except for the last lay day, these have not been the cheeriest or happiest days of this adventure but no one was physically hurt. Strong winds continued the next two nights, though not as strong as the first night. Ilenes anchor having held in higher winds, it held in the lesser and better sleep was enjoyed.

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We hauled the anchor at 7:15 to get to Hell Gate about 30 to 60 minutes before high tide at 8:40, measured at a tide station only 2.5 miles from that canal. It was cold and windy -- in the wrong direction -- but we passed through Hell Gate with no less than nine feet of depth -- about six more than would have been there at low tide. We got such an early start and partial favorable tides, that we changed our destination from Bull Creek to Beaufort SC, which had been scheduled as the next days destination; we got onto a mooring, rather than their dock where we had stayed our last two times here at 5:05 pm.  Generally the tides were running to the sea from high tide near Hell Gate for six hours and then rushed upstream. The course was so circuitous and involved going upstream on some rivers and down on others that it was always a surprise to us when we entered a new segment to find out which way the tide was flowing. With 2500 rpms on the Yanmar our speed varied from 4.8 to 8.4 knots depending on the current. Maybe some Comp Sci Ph.D. could solve the riddle of when is the best time to leave from point A to go to Point B, depending on your boats speed, unadjusted for tide, and the date in the lunar cycle. But I cant game nature. I mentioned hairpin curves and here is an early part of the passage

from the pliers at the right, through Hell Gate  at the screwdriver tip, upper right, past one hairpin curve above the big washer to just above the wrench jaw at the left. Overall,  the course for this segment was about 30 degrees, or north of northeast.
The portion of the days passage before we got to and crossed the Savannah River was new to us. It took us past Thunderbolt, the boating capital of Georgia. We had heard so much about this place, so close to Savannah, including that the marina brings you a free Krispy Kreme doughnut in the morning. Here are its boatyard and marina and a big beauty. I wonder how she got in this far from the sea with her mast vastly exceeding 65 feet in height.

We also passed Paris Island and Hilton Head, both of which I mentioned during our voyage south last fall.  We tried to motor sail in the afternoon, when we got to Port Royal Sound and the Beaufort River the last 14 miles, but the wind had died down and our speed brought it to our nose.
Our stay in Beaufort was quiet. Unlike our last two visits here, we took one of the marinas moorings. We used the marinas courtesy car to spend $290 at the Publix on Ladies Island, across the river. We off loaded several days of our garbage, filled our four one gallon water bottles, met with friends, including a pot luck dinner ashore. We had planned only one lay day, but the forecast weather seemed worse on the second lay day and we like it here so we stayed.
We made a date with Carla, co-owner of another Saga 43, "Reverie", as she was driving past this town between Charleston and Brunswick. But she had a friend as a passenger who did not want to stop, so our rendezvous had to be put off until the fall when, hopefully, Carla and John, who we have not yet met in person, will be driving through New York on a day when we will be there.
We spent some time discussing whether to divide the segment from Beaufort to Charleston into two halves, as we did on the trip south, but in the end decided to go almost all the way to Charleston and anchor in the Stono River, just south of the city. This solution avoids two problems. 1. It is hard to find a berth in Charleston due to Race Week. 2.  There is a strong tide under a bridge that is closed for rush hours which we have to pass at the end of another long day, just before Charleston.
We saw a matinee of Noel Cowards "Blithe Spirit", at the USC Beaufort campus theater. We sat next to Louise and Jim, nice folks, who recommended "Narrow Dog to Indian River" by Terry Darlington, which I am recommending to Dick and Elle.

Though in a university setting, the show was put on by the local theater group and funny, a farce: during a seance with a medium a mans wife comes back as a ghost visible only to him and torments his new wife. And only $20 per ticket for good seats.
And having had dinner and breakfast at Low Country Produce, located in the former City Hall, during our trip south, we had lunch there this time. Innovative inexpensive food in a place with cloth napkins  which also retails its food; one sits among display cases and racks.
The dink is hauled and we have to get underway early tomorrow to make the 7 am opening of the Ladies Island Bridge, less than a quarter mile away, or wait until 9:00.

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Dinner at the Downtowner, across the river, under the Andrews Avenue Bridge, outdoors, ten feet from the River, after dark, with great atmosphere, twice. Here from the other side of the river, by day.

Once, just the two of us, and the second time with Craig and Kathy. Their 45 Amel Santorin ketch, "Sangaris", is now back in Florida after they have spent the last fifteen years living aboard, as far away as the Galapagos in the Pacific, and throughout the western Med. Craig is a Past Commodore of the Harlem, now an honorary member. They have more miles under their keel than all the rest of us Harlemites put together. I was pleased to tell him that ILENE is the second most sailed boat in the Club. I raced a few times with Craig and Kathy on their old boat "C-Jack" and learned a lot about how to do this thing. Yelling never helps when things go wrong, as they invariably will. Quick, calm instructions on how to fix the problem is what is needed. We enjoyed some wine etc. aboard before the Downtowner.

We also enjoyed mango-sweet potato pancakes with Lenes HS classmate, Elissa and her husband Len, This was the advance guard of Lenes Lincoln HS class of 67 reunion in Boca Raton next week.

Since we left New York I have been meaning to shorten the length of the strap at the tack of the Genoa, to pull that sail down

about an inch in order to be able to stretch out its luff (front edge) more fully. I think that the sail has simply gotten stretched out a bit during the many years of heavy use so that unless I lowered the bottom, the top would get stuck and interfere with furling. I took advantage of access to the tack of the sail from the dock on a windless morning to do this job, doubling the bottom of the strap back upon itself to create a new loop to shorten it. It was too difficult to force the needle through the tough doubled multi-layered strap, even with the palm. So I used fewer stitches than I had planned and other methods to attempt to achieve this job. Time will tell whether the sewing will be strong enough.

We contacted canvas shops to try to get what Lene has sought since those cold days on the way south -- a cockpit, fully enclosed by clear plastic, which will warm up without the cold wind blowing freely through it. The boat came with five panels of mosquito screening to keep out the prevalent pests in the hot summery months in the Chesapeake, where the original owner kept this boat, then called "La Vie." I put these panels up once, on a rainy day, about eight years ago. So I knew they fit. But they did not keep the rain out, nor the wind. The plan is to use the existing Sunbrella canvas "frames" or "hems" around the outside of the panels, but cut out the screen material and sew in sheets of clear strong plastic. I put the panels up and took measurements and photographs. We sent what we have back to Doyle Sails on City Island who will do the work and send them back to us. Best price plus friendly knowledgeable local work at home.

"La Vie" is a lovely name for a boat, by the way, "The Life". But it was not as good for us as ILENE. It is said to be bad luck to change a boats name, but I have changed the name of each of the three boats I have had. The Pearson 28 went from "Y Knot" to "Just Cause".  The Tartan 34 went from "Alsterwasser" (the favorite beer of the late husband from whose widow we bought her) to "ILENE", as did "La Vie."

Carlos walked the dock, gave me his card and offered to clean and wax the exterior of the boat including the stainless, from the waterline up.  Cleaning is work that I can do, though in hindsight, not as well as Clarence. And though I can do it, I seem to not get around to doing it and  I have never gotten ILENE as clean and shining bright white as Carlos has. She had not been done since last spring. Carlos worked, with power polishers,  the better part of three days, and the money was well spent.

I learned a lot at the New River Hotel, now the history museum, located in the former small modest cinder block hotel beside the former Florida East Coast Railroad depot. The FEC still screams past, many times per day, over that RR bridge, right outside the hotel, but they are freight trains and do not stop at the former passenger depot. There are plans to run passenger trains from Miami to Disneyworld over these same tracks. But there is some opposition to the plan because it would require the RR bridge  to open an additional 30 times per day with the loud train whistle reverberating at one second intervals while the trains pass through the heart of the city.

The train runs near Cooleys Landing, because Flagler couldnt persuade the Brickell family, who owned Broward County, to sell him a right of way closer to the coast. And that is why Flagler did not build his typical Flagler pleasure palace hotel here and this one was built by others. There was indeed a fort here, three of them in fact, one after the other, named after the commander of the first fort, one a Mr. Lauderdale. Most of us think of this place as a beach town, which it certainly is ("Where The Boys Are"), but the town grew up by the New River, where we are, several miles west of the beach. The river got its name, according two two competing legends, either (A) because an earthquake caused an underground stream to rise to the surface, i.e., a new river, or (B) because the mouth of the river kept shifting, causing it appear as a new river each time it was charted. Neither story sounds true to me. Cooley, after whose landing our Marina is named, was a local merchant and Justice of the Peace. He also operated a large facility extracting arrowroot from the roots of a plant he grew. When some drunken settlers killed an Indian, he had the culprits arrested and brought to trial. But he lost the prosecution because his only witnesses were Indians, and they could not testify in 1835. The witnesses were upset and blamed Cooley. Some time later they killed Cooley and his family. Class dismissed.

We prayed on the sabbath with Lenes cousin, Jeff, at Temple Beth Am (house of the people) in Margate.. Jeff is an officer there. The service was in the Conservative tradition, in which I grew up and belonged for the first 30 years of my life. Many of the melodies were familiar to me. The Rabbis sermon was timely and excellent, drawn from an essay whose author he credited.
The current spat between the Prime Minister of Israel and President Obama and Senator Boehner who invited Netanyahu to address Congress without asking Obama, was nothing but a bunch of politicians ALL behaving badly. They all agree that Iran cannot be permitted to get a bomb and that Israels security must be assured.  He traced the history of the U.S. - Israel relationship and showed that it was not a warm one until the 1967 war; that the chief suppliers of arms to Israel until then were first the French and then The Soviets via Chechoslovakia.  But, having failed to pacify Afghanistan or Iran after almost 15 years of trying, the U.S., under Obama, has moved to a policy of requiring the four major powers of the region to buffer each other and balance each other out, with U.S. air strikes providing a bit of assistance, to assist ground troops of the local rivals. The four powers in this regional analysis are Turkey, Israel, Iran and the Saudis, none of which like each other, and all of which have cause to hate ISIS.  The spat between Israel and the U.S. comes from Israels feeling of loss that that they were the favorite of the US.  Yet there are many hawkish right wing Jews in the US who hate our President for many reasons. Jeffs Rabbi is to be commended for not joining them.

 After services we had lunch with Jeff, his brother Alan and their Mom, Naomi, at a Chinese Buffet that Naomi craved. This was her first outing since our December visit, when she was in rehab for a broken pelvis. After eating too much we were driven back to Naomis house to pick up about six packages which we had shipped there and then back home to ILENE, for the rest of the rainy day.

I walked to and on the beach one day, via Las Olas Boulevard. Well, a quarter of the round trip was a ride, from the Post office, where I had walked to send off the screens. to the beach. I passed the art gallery district including Pococks, whose owner, though British, like George Pocock, was not related to that famous builder of cedar rowing shells featured in "The Boys In the Boat." I told him that he would enjoy the book.  On the beach I walked north, past the most crowded spot, called "Beach Place," covered with young bikini clad women and men who desired them, then past a gay section of the beach and finally a much more sparsely blanketed section by the Westin Hotel, featuring older people and families. On the way back, along Las Olas ("The Waves"), I noticed the towns logo: a boat with a spinaker on the bow and a phoenix or rising sun as the main.

I walked past the ends of the many canals that were dredged to Las Olas Blvd. and visited an open house in this almost completed new 7488 square foot home. It can be yours for less than $7M. Nice spot to dock ILENE comes with it. But not for us.

We had wine and then dinner aboard with my only nephew, David, who this lousy under-lit photo does not do justice, sorry Dave. He lives with his lovely wife and two kids in Atlanta where he has a business, but is also a partner in a business in Boca Raton and works here three days (two night) per week. He had a weekend with his father aboard "Just Cause" back in 1996, from City Island to Northport and back, but had never seen ILENE. 
We have several more days here in Fort Lauderdale.

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