Last Updated 10/24/05

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Snowbirds are that species of cruiser who migrate each fall from the crisp autumn setting in the northern climes to the warmth of the south and beyond. They are many, and the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) and near shore waters are the liquid interstate highway that carry them. Canadians seem to comprise at least a quarter of the flotilla which is not surprising when you consider how cold the winters are there!

Snowbirds come in all forms, but the vast majority are sailboats, generally in the 35-45’ range. The powerboats are of three types – trawlers, Clorox bottles (large plastic yachts often festooned with multiple burgees from yacht clubs so as to make clear the lofty status of the owner)., and sportfish. Their cruising speeds seem to be 8, 18, and 28 knots respectively. The captains fall into two groups - competents and idiots. The latter have perfected the ability to slow from their high-speed grind to a point just before they get on plane. Thus, they have satisfied themselves that they are slowing as a courtesy to those they pass while assuring the largest wake as they do. There are exceptions – i.e., those who don’t even attempt to provide an easy pass.

Sailors and slow boats can make their own problems at times by not slowing from their own 6-knot slog to permit a smooth, easy pass. To get around them one must do 7-8 kt, and in our boat that makes a fair wake. Many times we have tried contacting a slower boat by radio, by horn blast, and by hand signals only to be greeted by oblivion, and our conscience is clear as we, too, “wake” them.

Usually the powerboats find marinas each evening and the sailors, being notoriously thrifty, anchor out – even in large cities. So do we. It is far more peaceful, private, and much more scenic to be looking out over the water, woods, and marshes than your dock neighbor’s propane gas grill.

Most snowbirds are easy to meet and greet. What goes around, comes around, too. Over the course of a couple weeks, boats hopscotch each other several times. We often saw vessels we had passed (or been passed by) a few days or a week earlier. When conversation starts the fleet further divides into those heading to Florida to tie up to a marina for the season, and those going offshore, at least to the Bahamas. That is the group we fit into. Of that high percentage of Canadian cruisers mentioned above, the vast majority of them have planned to head over.

On Tuesday, 10/19 we left Annapolis to begin our own migration. The three weeks there had been busy and restorative after our three month, 3,000 mile summer Down East Circle Loop of the Canadian provinces. Our friends Bill and Sandy were most gracious, sharing their dock behind their beautiful home on Spa Creek. Friends, family, business, dentists, doctors, bankers, storage, boat service, the boat show, our postal service, Gold’s Gym, all the local pubs, and West Marine had made the stay seem so short. It took us an easy 2-1/2 days from Annapolis to Norfolk – anchoring in Solomons Island, and a day later tying up in Deltaville, VA, where we could get cable to watch the Red Sox coming from behind to crush the hated Yankees. For a couple completely indifferent to pro sports, it amazed us how instantly involved (and expertly knowledgeable) we became.

Just five miles before arriving in Norfolk, we fueled up for the first time since Mt. Desert Island in Maine and were delighted to calculate that we were sipping 6.65 gph after factoring out the generator. We were also pleased that the price was between $.15 and $.30 cheaper than most other places we had checked. It still is up about $.75 from a year ago, however.

Over the couple of days there, we enjoyed visits with parents in Williamsburg, and the many friends we have in Norfolk. There came a point, though, when it was decided to get the boat to Wilmington where we were scheduled for some maintenance and minor cosmetic repair to scratched paint. It worked out that Andrea could remain with her friend, Ann for the several days, and Chuck would take the boat to ILM, leave it at Bennett Bros. For the work, and return by car a few days later.

On the morning of Sunday, 10/24, a brief passing shower left an amazing double rainbow in its wake from horizon to horizon! No doubt a sign, so with Ian joining the crew, we set off. The first night we tied up in Coinjock after patiently waiting out locks, a couple draw bridges, and one tug and barge hard aground in the middle of the channel. Andrea drove down and stayed aboard. The next morning we pushed 76miles to Belhaven. A friendly and energetic young couple owns the Belhaven Marina. We discovered it in June, 2003. It is quite small, but has all the facilities one needs and we will make it a regular stop as we come and go. Andrea drove down again from Norfolk and after dinner, she and Ian returned north.

Over next three days I soloed the boat to Beaufort, then went offshore to Masonboro Inlet in Wrightsville Beach, and the final day made it to Bennett Bros. In Wilmington just as the tide went slack and Celebrate was immediately hauled. The boat was left there for a week as the captain and owner resumed socializing in Norfolk, Charlottesville, attended a wedding in D.C., got an absentee ballot and voted in Maryland, and suffered through an election evening. In a mournful mood we returned to the boat on Wednesday, November 3, where we did some light provisioning.

The weather was bright that week, but full of wind and since we had planned to go offshore as much as possible on our snowbirding sojourn, we elected to return the 20 miles back to Wrightsville Beach to wait it out. What was going to be a day or two turned into six as we enjoyed the anchorage in Banks Channel. We visited all the familiar haunts we came to enjoy last winter. This was the first real manifestation of our altered view of cruising. Heretofore, a pre-planned schedule ruled our days and routes. The lessons learned in Nova Scotia and Maine taught us that too much is missed by not stopping to smell the roses. We became converted forever by this first experiment in the joy of non-scheduling.

Finally, by 11/11 (Mom's 89th birthday!) the offshore forecasts were good for next couple of days, and we raised anchor and headed south with a stop intended in Little River. The weather and current favored us and we arrived at Bald Head at the mouth of the Cape Fear River, and went out to sea for the intended last 20 miles to the inlet at our destination. Well, things were so benign that after a quick calculation we discovered we could safely boost our plan and head for Winyah sound at the mouth of the Waccamaw River a half dozen miles from Georgetown, SC. It was a lot more miles, but with the weather in our favor we went for it, arriving at the inlet just as the sun was setting. Between charts, ranges, and lighted buoys we navigated into and a couple miles up the river where we dropped anchor in the dark just where the Intracoastal Waterway cuts south toward Charleston. It was a long (11 hours and 104 miles) day, but it was gratifying and we put a day in the ‘bank’ for future use.

On the 12th, we stayed "inside" and clocked the final 50 miles to Charleston. We hit it at low tide - and the water was really thin in a lot of places. Often, we saw only a foot under the keel, but we slogged along anyway knowing that if we bumped it was soft, and if we got stuck a 6' tide would soon be rising. Charleston is a great city. We stayed four days, sightseeing, visiting with our friends Tim and Hannah who live aboard their Grand Banks Slowly there, and generally appreciating the southern hospitality the place is known for.

Leaving Charleston, we stayed in the ICW for the 60 miles to Beaufort. We began to savor the "Low Country" charm of this region. The marshes were miles wide, the water deep, and the porpoises rediscovered the fun of surfing our bow wave and our wake. They are always the same, yet always different. We can see them at a distance, and watch them turn and head for us to have some fun.

Just as we arrived, we clicked over the 9,000 nautical mile mark on our GPS odometer. Another grand since Celebrate was commissioned. We stayed two nights in Beaufort and spent the full day working out, shopping, exploring its historical and gracious downtown district. On Thursday, 10/18 we raised the anchor early and cruised on flat water the 20 miles south, around Parris Island, and arrived at our Hilton Head Island destination in just a couple of hours. Shrimp boats are ubiquitous in these waters, as are mega-McMansions. We squeezed in the tiny lock at Windmill Harbor and tied up again at the South Carolina Yacht Club where Aunt Terry joined us for lunch. She took us on an exciting trip to the nearby Publix where we picked up a few provisions to hold us for the next few days.

The next morning, after running and coaching, we set out at about 10 on glassy water in warm, clear weather. Out to sea via Calibogue Sound and Tybee Roads which is the main shipping channel into Savannah. Porpoises played all over. They are as plentiful as squirrels in a park, and because the water was so smooth, they were so easy to see. We did run through a fairly large oil slick that had come from a ship a ways away. We called the USCG who were aware of the problem and dealing with it. By mid afternoon, and 50 miles later,  we had entered St. Catherine's Sound and tucked ourselves into Walburg Creek. It was a delightful, pristine stream with woods on one side and marsh on the other. We were just relaxing on the bridge when Andrea heard an uproar from below and we discovered a stowaway in the galley. It soon departed.

Back out to sea the next day and had a somewhat lumpy ride the 35 miles to St. Simons Sound where we returned to the ICW and ran south just a few miles to Jekyll Island. The 'sea isles' region of Georgia is historic and beautiful. We biked all over the place for a day and a half and even found a Sunday New York Times. Nearly everywhere we found huge, centuries-old live oak trees festooned with Spanish Moss. The spreads on these are often over 100'!

Cumberland Island is only 25 miles south of Jekyll. It is the southernmost of the sea isles, and its southern end sits on the Georgia / Florida border. It is also, to our view, the most beautiful and interesting of all our stops along the Snowbird route. Originally owned by a small number of the turn-of-the-(20th)century like Carnegie, Mellon, Ford, Morgan, et al, who spent their winters here. Their summers were in the cottages in Newport, RI. Only a couple of the original estates remain, and one is a burned-out ruins. The island is now a National Park overseen by the Department of the Interior. Access is only by boat. Camping is limited to one small area. Otherwise, there are only 17 residents on the 18-mile long marine-forest hunk of the planet. We anchored out three nights and explored it on foot and on bikes. There's one dirt road and numerous foot paths.

Miles of marine forests. Wild horses abound. There's an occasional armadillo, too. On the ocean side, the dunes begin in the forests almost half a mile from the water. They are 20-30' high. The beach itself is amazing. Very wide, 18 miles long, and not a single stick of development the entire way. We picnicked there, took a dip, and in the seven miles we biked saw only five other people. We will certainly return next spring.

On Tuesday, 10/23 we raised the anchor, turned south and went out the St. Mary’s River to sea, thence about 25 miles south to the St. John’s River which leads to Jacksonville. We did not go that whole distance, but rejoined the ICW and in about 15 miles arrived at Jacksonville Beach. The next day we had our engines serviced. They are due every 300 hours, and we had put 297 on them since last they were serviced on Prince Edward Island. That seemed such a long time ago. We rented a car, and Andrea made a lot of rounds, including buying a turkey breast and all the fixin’s for the next day’s feast.

Thanksgiving morning we left, bound for St. Augustine only 27 miles down the road. It was clear, cool, and breezy. Unlike our trip north through this part of the waterway, the tide was high and the anxiety was low. Arriving in St. Augustine we anchored seemingly in the shadow of its iconic Bridge of Lions by mid-day. Andrea set about making a pie, making stuffing, and generally doing the big dinner thing. We remarked that it was the first time either of us could remember a Thanksgiving dinner just for two. That all changed when the phone rang around 3 p.m.

It was the Thompsons – Debbie, Rogers, and Ben – friends from Baltimore for years, and Ben was a groomsman in Chuck’s son Roger’s wedding this summer. They now live in St. Augustine and were by chance riding over the bridge and saw our boat – wanted to invite us to join them at a restaurant at 5. Instead we did a switch on them, and at 5 Chuck picked them up at the dinghy dock and it was Thanksgiving dinner for 5 aboard Celebrate. Andrea had planned so well, we even had some leftovers!

On Saturday we toured around the historic, and now megatouristy city. Sunday morning we picked up the Thompsons at the dock about 8 a.m. and set out for Daytona Beach, about 50 miles to the south. It was a beautiful day for a cruise. About half way there we stopped in Palm Coast for a brief visit with Jane and Jim. In late afternoon we tied up at a marina where Rogers and Ben had left one of their cars the prior day. They soon departed for their return to St. Augustine just before the big rain squalls set in. Instead of hunting a restaurant in foul weather gear, we called in for pizza, which was just fine. The next day we used the marina’s courtesy car to get to the YMCA to work out and to pick up some provisions for the next few days.

The next three days saw us getting to Cocoa Beach (60 miles), Vero Beach (47 miles) and Hutchinson Island just north of Stuart (25 miles). Porpoises continued to stalk us and frolic in our wake.This whole run is in the Mosquito Lagoon and Indian River.  Both are wide and shallow, and attention must be paid to staying not only in the channel, but finding the deepest part of the channel. A lot of shoaling has taken place, and the two hurricanes that picked Stuart as ground zero have not helped. The damage became more widespread the further we went. Million dollar homes still had blue tarps on their roofs; lesser homes did not fare as well. In Ft. Pierce the marinas looked like automobile junk yards, except that they were filled with boats piled every which way on top of one another. These were not just little rowboats; many were recognizable 50’-60’ trawlers, sailboats, and motoryachts.

We reached Palm Beach Thursday, 12/2, and anchored in the north end of Lake Worth, a popular anchorage. We were midway between Jack Nicklaus’ home on the eastern shore, and Tiger Woods’ 153’ yacht, “Privacy,” on the west. Ed and Kara joined us aboard for a brief visit and then we all dinked ashore and drove to dinner. Ed is Ian’s dad, and was really helpful when we were outfitting Celebrate by getting us a great deal on our dink and our liferaft.

It was a beautiful and easy 50 miles from Palm Beach to Ft. Lauderdale. We went out to sea and relished in the deep blue of the warm (72°) waters of the Gulf Stream. Its color and clarity are hard to describe, or even to photograph. On the way we thought of our friend Peter Kennedy who would be due to start heading over to the Bahamas. We called, and it turned out he was in Ft. Lauderdale, preparing to depart in two days. After we tied up at the Las Olas city marina he joined us and we had a great dinner and visit. We called Karen at their home in Falmouth, ME, to keep her up to date on our doings.

Saturday we learned a mooring had just been vacated, and we raced to the boat, cast off the lines, and traveled all of 100 yards to pick up the only one in the mooring field that could hold our boat. We spent ten days hanging there as we enjoyed traveling all over Ft. Lauderdale by dink. Publix, West Marine, Bluewater Charts, Brownies. Andrea mastered the public bus system and ranged far and wide. Chuck got a lot of chores on the boat done. One day we went 5 miles south where we had arranged fuel delivery. To our delight we calculated that our burn rate was only 6.25 gph since we left Norfolk.

Day and night boats of all sizes passed us by. Kayaks to 200’ private yachts. Ft. Lauderdale is daunting in terms of the wretched excess of wealth. Without exaggeration, 100' yachts are a dime a dozen. It is common to see a 125' - 150' docked in front of an 8,000 s.f. home. Paul Allen's "Octopus," a 450' beauty and the largest private yacht in the world was there as was Larry Ellison's smaller one. However, Ellison is building one now that will be 452' long so as to claim the title of largest ego among largest yacht owners. We also noted that everyone seems to be in the Christmas spirit with decorations festooning homes and yachts alike, even the big ones. No accounting for taste, it seems.

In a mooring field there, we met a French couple who have been cruising on their trimaran sailboat for four years. Jean-Paul retired from Air France as its chief pilot having flown 747s from Paris to everywhere in the world for years and years. We had some great reciprocal dinners aboard, and wonderful conversations. Sonia printed a customized recipe book for us with great ideas for all the fish we will be catching! We hope our paths will cross down the road.

The time finally came to put Celebrate up for the holidays, and on Thursday, 12/16 we cruised up the New River and docked behind the home of Jim and Kimberly Upp. We'll return on the 28th and begin to provision and do the final outfitting in preparation for crossing to the Bahamas in early January. That will be a whole new chapter in our Ship's Log and mark the beginning of our 2005 adventures.

Stay tuned.

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