The daily dolphin sightings continued into the busy part of Florida. My favorite part was when they’d pop up right beside the cockpit and breathe out a loud “Pfft!” – this usually startled Paul and he’d jump, then I’d laugh.
Our next stop was Jekyll Island, GA. We’d heard about it from our riggers/friends Dobbs and Suzanne at Walden Rigging, who told us about the restored historic homes there. At some point on our trip, I saw an ad for the marina mentioning golf carts and bicycles – I told Paul we had to go!
We were aware that to get to the marina, we would have to scoot by the state’s sketchiest shallow spot in Jekyll Creek. Early in the day, we were looking good for an arrival prior to sunset and several hours prior to low tide. However, by the time we had the tip of the island in sight, we were a little behind schedule, and to make matters worse, the current, wind and waves were starting to work against us. I recalculated our ETA as we slowed to 3.5 knots, and it wasn’t looking good. On top of that, the marina hadn’t actually answered the phone or returned our calls.
I looked at Paul and asked him what he wanted to do. There was a possible anchorage at the northern end of the island that we could pull into, instead of pressing our luck. We both knew this was the better decision, even if it meant skipping this stop altogether to stay on schedule. I tried to sound honest and reassuring as I told him safety was more important than…. golf carts and Rockefeller homes. He sighed, sensing my true desire for adventure, and said, “Let’s do this. I promised you those damned golf carts!”
Luckily, the marina answered our next call and told us to stay 30-45 feet off of marker 19. I checked the map and saw, based on that advice, that we’d be staying to the left to avoid the sediment that a side stream was dumping into the right side of the channel.
Unfortunately, we weren’t gaining any speed. We would now be arriving after dark and at low tide. As we passed the jetties at the creek’s entrance, we still had enough sunlight to identify the rocks we didn’t want to hit. Darkness set in just as we spotted marker 19 up ahead. We shined the spotlight on it and lined ourselves up to pass at the specified distance. We watched the depth drop on the chartplotter – 6 feet, 4 feet, 2 feet… we were crawling at barely 2 knots and holding our breaths… 1.5 feet below the keel… when it dropped below 1 foot I looked away and braced for impact.
“It’s going up!” cheered Paul, who had the guts to still be watching the numbers. Astonished and relieved not to be spending the night stuck in the mud, I prepped the dock lines. We had an easy end spot on the dock, but the marina was nearly adjacent to a bridge, limiting our room for maneuvers. Luckily, a couple ran over to assist us and pulled us safely to the dock.
“Good thing I grew out this beard,” Paul said to me, “because we just made it here by the hair on my chin!”
A bit amped up by the close call, we decided to walk into town. Jekyll is a cool place. Though touristy, the town has sidewalks and Adirondack chairs under palm trees all along the beach. The next day we borrowed bikes from the marina to head into the historical part of town – the restored vacation homes of America’s railroad tycoons and other such rich folk. Apparently those aspiring to be like that still come here – We saw people dressed in all white playing a serious game of croquet on the green front lawn of the clubhouse (where it would have cost the two of us $80 for brunch). We then borrowed the marina’s golf cart to tour the whole island.
I had been nervous about 9 foot tides in Georgia, but with low tide hitting when we usually weren’t traveling, Georgia ended up being much more relaxing than expected.
The whole trip had been very calm as far as boat traffic, so it was Daytona before things started to get busy with other sailors, fishermen, tour boats, and jet skis. At one point, I stood up to watch some boats passing in front of us and I see a STINGRAY leap out of the water!
I thought that was the best thing ever until the next day in the Haulover Canal when we topped it. The guide book said “lots and lots of manatees” in this area, to which I said, “Yeah, right, we’ll never see them.” But there they were, a huge group of manatees beside the canal, popping out of the water to eat leaves off the bushes. They were all over the canal, just floating along. We also saw our first sea turtle and an island full of all sorts of birds.
After this the water finally started to turn get bluer. We tried to go to a snorkel park near North Palm Beach but the visibility was awful, so instead I walked 20 minutes across a bridge to get a pizza, since we hadn’t had pizza since New Bern. SO WORTH IT.
It’s funny being in Florida though. In the southern states, people were so polite on the water and on the radio. Here it’s a rude free-for-all. People yelling at each other on the radio. Coast guard scolding people for using channel 16 incorrectly. Huge power boats ripping by with giant wakes. No more pre-tied lines and fenders at the fuel docks. It doesn’t bother us much, but the contrast is just starting.
(Feb 21-Mar 6 – by Lindsey)
Looks and sounds magical.
I read an earlier posting and thought I had signed up for posts it this one came from Kerry. I will try again.
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