Dec 4: Bumpy Night Ahead

Alana is anchored just outside the entrance to Port Everglades. I’m about 20 miles short of my original destination, Miami, but have made what I think is a wise decision to stop here for the night rather than press ahead toward what would have been a pretty sketchy Miami anchorage. Alana will be thrashing about on her anchor all night, but at least I will not have to be concerned with grounding.

Rush failed to invite me in for scones and coffee this morning, so I shook my fist in his general direction and headed south. His house, while enormous, was far from the gaudiest I saw today. It is hard to believe that there are as many apparently filthy rich folks in this country as there are. I saw sprawling mansions the size of Spring Valley Academy (where I sometimes went to high school). Rush’s place supposedly cost $44 million and appears to have more than enough space for a single man. I’d be proud to call either of the guest houses home, but would choose the one with its own pool.

The winds, when they did eventually pipe up were from exactly the wrong direction, so I ended up motoring most of the day. The western wall of the Gulf Stream in this part of the coast is supposedly 4-5 miles off the coast, but I was observing a northerly set as soon as I got more than half a mile or so off the beach. This made it impractical to tack my way into the wind, so I swallowed my pride and motored.

I’m not finding Florida to be particularly cruiser-friendly. If you are a wealthy tool with with an 80-foot sport fisher or a 150-foot mega yacht, this is your spot, but if you are looking for a place to conveniently anchor and obtain fuel/goods via dingy, forget it. There are zillions of marinas, most with awkward, piling-type slips that are rather tricky for a single-hander, but very, very few anchorages. South of here once you get into the Keys, there are anchorages, but they are tucked in between myriad sanctuaries, closed areas, and otherwise restricted. Anchoring laws in the state are apparently in a state of flux with local municipalities seeking to make life difficult for “migrants” and “live-aboards,” and the state government, led by the governor, attempting to rein in the zealots. I know there are a lot of bums living on boats; there are dozens of boats in Key West that have not moved in years and are obviously disposing of their sewage improperly, but I rather resent being lumped in with those tramps.

Once I leave here tomorrow, the plan is to head down to Miami Beach to get a little fuel, then head south to an anchorage off Key Biscayne for the night. Sunday I’ll actually start my trip down the Keys toward Key West and the Gulf.

It smells like the soup is almost ready, so I’ll sign off.