Tuesday, October 31
At low slack tide on the morning of October 31st, we back
out of the slip that has been our home for five months. As
a friend throws us the last dock line, Caribbean Soul
and her crew are emancipated from the bondage of land. As
we say in Texas, "YeeHaw!" We're cruising again!
We motor out to the St. Augustine sea buoy to begin our 130-mile
offshore passage south to Cape Canaveral and then down the
ICW to Cocoa. Nick turns on the radar and is surprised to
discover that the peninsula of Florida has relocated to the
east and the Atlantic ocean is now west. As it turns out,
the St. Augustine company that upgraded the unit's firmware
didn't bother to mention that the radar would have to be reconfigured.
Fortunately, we're in cell phone range, so Nick calls Furuno
tech support. While steering to point at land with one hand,
holding the cell phone with the other hand, and programming
the unit with the other hand (how many hands is that?), Nick
gets Florida back to starboard and the universe is once again
in harmony.
By late afternoon, the wind has picked up enough to turn
off the motor, and Caribbean Soul glides across the
4-foot swells under sail alone. Under the glow of a half moon,
we enjoy a peaceful and rejuvenating night sail. Then around
midnight, storm clouds multiply on the radar display. Caribbean
Soul passes from a moonlit sea into a dark abyss. "We're
sailing into the mystic," I say as I hand the helm over
to Nick and go down below to sleep.
By 2:00 A.M., the wind is blowing 22 knots under a pitch-black
sky and pelting rain. The fun is over. We reduce sail and
restart the engine.
Wednesday, November 1
By sunrise on Wednesday we're off Cape Canaveral under stormy
skies. The swells exceed 6 feet with whitecaps, and the wind
blows over 20 knots. The port is under a dark veil of rain,
so we wait for improving conditions before heading in.
As the storms dissipate, we find ourselves slowly motoring
with zero to 2 knots of wind behind us. The boat rolls in
the swells and the sails flog uselessly without wind to fill
them. Nick is on deck trying to unwrap the topping lift that
became tangled on the backstay overnight. About this time,
a Coast Guard cutter pulls up behind us. Oh great, we think,
they're going to inspect us. Instead, they ask if we're in
distress. Good grief, do we look that pitiful? Nick assures
the Coasties that we're fine and thanks them for their concern.
By noon, we enter the port at Cape Canaveral. The lock is
a piece of cake after our Mississippi River locking experiences.
By midafternoon, the hook is down in a familiar anchorage
in Cocoa. For the exhausted crew, it's a hot meal, a warm
shower, and early to a bed that doesn't bounce.
Thursday, November 2
On Thursday morning, we have a pancake breakfast before making
the 15-mile trip to Melbourne. We anchor off Dragon Point
in the mouth of the Banana River. NOAA is warning of 20-30
knot north winds over the weekend, so we hope this spot will
be secure. The Seven Seas Cruising Association is holding
its annual convention here next weekend, so we'll be in the
Melbourne area for a week and a half before heading south
again.
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Anchorage at Dragon Point, Eau Gallie (Melbourne)
Offshore hitchhiker
Catching a few Zzz's waiting to enter Cape
Canaveral
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