Saturday, January 22, 2006 –

A stretch of Intracoastal just off Jupiter is called Hell’s Gate. How appropriate. Somebody must have had a bad night on the water, as they managed to snap off green marker #57, which was now floating in the middle of the channel. I went out of my way to avoid hitting the thing, but I guess I was distracted and went too far, as the depth gauge that had been showing at least seven feet fell to 3 feet and then down to 2 feet of water under the keel. At 1.8 it was a nail-biter, so I put out the 'help, I need you' signal again. This time Tom popped up in a few seconds but neither of us knew which way to turn to get out of the mess. I’d already tried both sides but the gauge kept dropping. As soon as he took the wheel a dull thud announced we’d hit bottom. Tom maneuvered backward and forward and with each rev of the engine a muddy swirl from below turned the water from blue to brown until we were surrounded by a sea of mud. Then slowly, very slowly, we started to move but relief was short-lived. A rumbling vibration meant we must’ve picked up something so we weren’t out of the woods yet. I tried to remember where I’d stashed my wetsuit, dreading the thought of jumping overboard. The vibration wasn’t too severe so Tom kept moving, slower than normal, and before an hour had passed it disappeared - must have been a chunk of muddy bottom that got packed in the prop hub. I was lucky.

Waterfront estates stretch for miles in Stuart, Jupiter and Juno Beach, all the way to south Miami. I’ve stayed in hotels that were smaller. We must’ve passed Tiger Woods’ newly acquired property in Jupiter, as a newspaper article said it stretches all the way from the Intracoastal to the Atlantic Ocean. The opulence is mind-boggling.