It was morning rush hour, bird-style. In a pink-orange sky before sunrise, what must have been thousands of grackles winged their way along a pathway known only to them, prattling as they went. We stood at the stern and watched clouds of birds appear on the distant skyline for more than ten minutes before they finally thinned and dwindled to the last stragglers. We were at Manatee Pocket, near Stuart, our first stop after leaving Fort Pierce.

House being moved, Fort Lauderdale

All sorts of vessels ply these waters

Slower traffic

Unique waterfront home, Hollywood

Ft. Lauderdale calls itself the yachting capital of the world and I believe it. Megayachts fill private docks along canals for miles and it doesn't take a lot of them to churn up the water. It's one of the wealthiest places in Florida where every inch of the waterfront has been taken over by huge residences with concrete walls lining the water on both sides. Every time a shockwave emanates from a high-powered cigarette boat or cabin cruiser, which is almost always, it bounces off one wall and zigzags back across the water to the other wall until it finally fades away. By the time that happens, another has started. We bounced all the way from Boca Raton to Port Everglades amid a variety of water traffic.

The anchorage at Bakers Haulover Inlet was a welcome relief, a quiet cove of flat-calm water next to Ileta State Park in North Miami, and the best part was we had it all to ourselves. I paddled through mangroves for a look around and then rowed ashore for a walk on the smooth sand beach. There were more dolphins cavorting  in the roped-off swimming area than humans. 

How does Miami have room for so much construction? I thought it was already full. Tom counted 24 sky cranes.  

Once you pass under the Rickenbacker Causeway it's all open water. Following the water's edge around the curve of the earth, the sky is aquamarine all along the horizon except for hazy brown patches over developments on Fisher Island, Virginia Key and Key Biscayne. Miami, of course, has more than a patch; it has a sprawling ceiling of dirty sky hovering over it.

Biscayne Bay is a fairly steady 10-foot depth all the way across with the clearest water on the ICW. I poised myself at the bow to watch the bottom scroll by and I spotted soft finger corals, vase sponges, sea cucumbers, needlefish, pair of butterfly fish, three abandoned crab traps and one disintegrating life vest. It was like snorkeling without getting wet. 

Tarpon Basin in Key Largo provided our last nightly layover before a 4-month stay in the park. The sunrise, as usual, was gorgeous. By mid-morning we were anxious to get to our final destination and were practically counting the minutes, straining our eyeballs until the seven mile bridge came into view.

So here we are on November 12th, seven months from the time we left, back in Bahia Honda State Park, and I can't think of a better place to call home for the winter. Monday morning I made a short jaunt through the park with the camera slung over my shoulder and snapped a few scenes (below).  

Tom's temporary fix on the water pump held together so now he has the prospect of making a proper repair. Some goodies from Fed Ex waiting for him when we got to the park: a water pump and water pump kit. He has his work cut out for him, tearing the guts out of the boat, taking the water pump off the engine and then bringing it to a machine shop in Marathon where they'll install the kit. After that, he can put it all back together, all because of that sheared off key that damaged the shaft and pulley. Taking things easy is only a distant memory.

Our next (semi) scheduled departure date is April, 2007. Until then, wishing you all a happy Thanksgiving. See you in the spring! 

(click on pictures to enlarge)