When Tom hoisted the anchor in the morning he had a big oops! Along with the anchor came a thick black electrical cable, but he was able to lift it off at the surface with a boat hook and avert a disaster. There were no signs posted.

We made it to Lantana by 2:30 in perfect weather. It had been perfect since we left on Monday morning: warm sunny days, cool nights, and light breezes. Lantana would be our port for the next two nights and I read about the anchorage in the waterway guide: “Anchoring is limited to 96 consecutive hours in any 30-day period, and a permit is required for stays of 18 hours or more.” We both felt this regulation was probably largely ignored but agreed we would walk the few blocks to the code enforcement office in the morning. But for this afternoon, it was time for relaxation at the grog house.

A gregarious bartender at the dockside bar asked us about the cruising lifestyle. She said she could never live on a boat, a comment we hear from a lot of people (except other cruisers), and their number one reason is that they need roots. For us it’s a liberating experience, more in synch with the natural world. The load just feels lighter.

After dinner we walked across the bridge and stopped at the bridge tender’s office to ask a burning question: What the heck is that stuff draped across the outside edge of the bridge that looks like barbed wire? She told us it was put there to diffuse lightening.

Next morning at the code enforcement office we put two clerks to work searching for that 18-hour permit regulation. What they found was that if a boat is staying in the anchorage more than 96 hours, a permit must be requested within 18 hours of anchoring. It was a nice walk anyway.

By the time we got back to the boat the wind had picked up and it continued to strengthen all day and all night. I’d hoped to walk over the bridge again to the other side of the narrow strip that separates the Atlantic Ocean from the ICW, but my plan was trashed. Rowing a 10-foot dinghy through whitecaps was not an option, so we stayed on board the rest of the day. The only event to disrupt our tranquility that night was four boneheads (of the young male variety) in a high-powered boat with an abundant supply of beer. They made five or six passes through the anchorage, full-throttle, beer in hand, yelling “Whoooo!” as vessels lurched and rolled on their anchors.

Whistling wind and waves slapping the bow kept Tom awake most of the night. At 5:00 he got up to pull anchor, expecting it to be fouled from swinging all night, but it wasn’t too bad. We got a beneficial push up the channel from a southerly wind but wallowed in a following sea. Around Jupiter there are long stretches of “Slow, Manatee Zone” areas, so the big behemoths with a gazillion horsepower are not able to run open throttle. Nice!