Day 55-56

Our brush with disaster in St. Simons Sound served as a bit of a wake up call for me. Yesterday, still a little shaken from the events of the night before, I resolved to get this boat ship-shape. After all, it was an engine failure that put us into that position in the first place. Pete and I spent that whole day in the marina, working on the boat, chipping away at our list of ship's projects. It was a fairly productive day. The marina provided a courtesy car so I could drive around to the different marine and auto supply stores for parts.

When we had left Cape Cod in January, the boat wasn't quite ready. We still had a long list of things that needed to be replaced or repaired. Although we'd been slowly picking away at the list over the course of the trip, it had not been with the kind of single minded dedication we should have had. Since the start of the trip, we had been fixing things at about the same rate that we'd been breaking things, so the length of the list had stayed pretty much the same. And of course, the cold was always an easy excuse for putting things off. For example, there's no rush to fix the toilet if the water in the bowl is frozen. The weather down here, however, while not yet hot, is certainly no longer cold. No more excuses.

The most important thing yesterday was to get the motor working again, which I did manage to do. However, as a not so subtle reminder that I am no mechanic, the air now has to be bled out of the fuel filter every five minutes to prevent the engine from stalling. This means that when the engine is running, if you're not manning the tiller, you're babysitting the motor. Its a set up that is neither pleasant nor sustainable. Still, I figure we can limp along like this for at least a little while, only using the motor to enter ports and set the anchor, until my dad arrives and can offer his opinion on the issue.



We got a nice early start this morning, retracing our steps through St. Simon's Sound and back into the open ocean. We figured motoring all day in the Intracoastal would be far too miserable with the motor in its present state and should it fail, there would be no way to sail in those tight rivers. If we did run aground, there would be no way to kedge ourselves off now that our dinghy was gone. Much better to be at sea where the water is deep and the motor is merely backup propulsion.



It was a beautiful day, moderate seas, and a nice brisk wind coming from just far enough west to allow us to sail. Ten miles offshore, we turned our bow south and set our sites on Florida and the St. Johns River to Jacksonville. We arrived just before sunset and saw our first cruise ship. We passed right beneath it as it was heading out to see. With a rakish wave and debonair smile, Pete and I posed for the hundreds of people lining its many rails. I think its safe to say we'll be making an appearance in quite a few family vacation albums.

We tied up at a dock in the town of Mayport, FL, a miserable little cluster of buildings at the mouth of the St. Johns River, wedged between the river and the the miles of barbwire fences surrounding the Mayport Naval Base. There must be some kind of helicopter training school here because at any given time we can look up and see as many as six Black Hawk helicopters circling the base. These flights are kept up twenty-four hours a day and quickly lost their charm for us.

For dinner, Pete and I chose to dine out at the seafood shack just down the street. Particle board walls, picnic tables, heaping piles of deep fried food, sweaty customers, even sweatier staff. One of the night's specials was dolphin. We had spotted our first dolphins in the waters of North Carolina and had been seeing them with increasing regularity as we've progressed south. By now, we've seen so many dolphins that we don't even get excited anymore. Still, their appearance on the menu surprised us. Pete and I had both been under the impression that dolphins were endangered or protected in some way or at least not available for eating. Pete speculated that maybe dolphins around here were like the Canada Goose or White Tailed Deer in many other places, so numerous they're considered a nuisance. Whatever the reason, we both agreed that we would no longer be making an effort to buy dolphin safe tuna, not if they were serving up dolphin deep fried with fries down in Florida.

Eager for a taste, we were ready to order until the waitress explained some things to us. There is a fish also called a dolphin. The rest of the world calls it the Mahi Mahi. This makes sense because the name "dolphin" would seem to be already taken but, in Florida, in the interest of promoting confusion, they call the Mahi Mahi a dolphin. As we'd always thought, the mammal called a dolphin is not available for eating. Too bad. They do look delicious.

Pete and I ended up splitting a combo platter, fried clam strips, fried, scallops, fried potatoes, coleslaw, and collard greens all washed down with Ice House beers. The platter is designed for one but the two of us barely finished it. Sitting there, each nursing another beer, feeling slightly ill, we watched in silence as a man at the table across from us put down a double combo platter all by himself. He did break a sweat, but he didn't slow down. I suppressed the urge to applaud and we headed back to the boat to be sung to sleep by the roar of patrolling Black Hawks.