The ICW is not exactly the most exciting place to be traveling through. Hours are spent spotting markers, looking for dolphins, Instagramming, and thinking about what to make for dinner (which by the way is my new favorite activity). Recently I’ve started to play a game, much like the TV show Chopped, where I try to use whatever is in my pantry to make our meals. It takes up about 90% of my thoughts, and the more I’m able to salvage, the more satisfied I feel that we saved a little money by not wasting food. Leftovers are re-purposed and once in a while, reluctantly, I use one of our cans as a supplement to our meal. This is a feat I’d like to overcome as it means, more money in our pockets, and more money equals more time cruising. Plus, it’s challenging and I’d like to think it makes me a better cook.
The 2nd day on the ICW was filled with many “firsts”, technically, seconds. On our way from Daytona to Titusville, Frank managed to run us aground. It happened so quickly as we were chugging our way merrily through the calm waters. Frank had just finished saying, “Is that red channel marker for us? Or is it for the other channel? Could you please look on the map and double check?” Just as I was telling him that yes, in fact, that was our channel marker, did we feel a soft thud. He was clearly outside the channel. Just then the depth sounder went blank and we were at a stand still. Of course, Frank freaked out on me and said that I must’ve misread the charts. Seeing that he was in panic mode, I took over the wheel, and started to push forward on the throttle, and turn the wheel back and forth. It was as if time stopped, and just like in the movies, I could hear the sound of my heart beating as I put the boat in reverse full throttle and forward in full throttle as I started to worm my way off the sandbar. In the background, I could hear in a muffled voice, Frank telling me that I was digging myself in a deeper hole. But for some reason, stupid as it may sound, I became one with the boat. I could feel every movement she was making, and I could tell that what I was doing was actually freeing us from the grounding. Just as I was putting it back into reverse, a powerboat sped by and created a wake for us, which finally helped free us. As soon as I felt we were lifted, I quickly cut the wheel to starboard, and continued on. Seconds later, I looked at Frank and we both started laughing. In fact, maniacally laughing. We couldn’t believe that we were able to get out of that. Frank humbly apologized for blaming me for misreading the charts, and even admitted that I was perhaps a better close quarter helmsman than him. I swear there are few times in my life where I wished that I was a robot and could just hit record. This was definitely one of those moments. I’d like to imagine that whenever he would question what I was doing that I could simply hit the repeat button and have him hear “you’re a better helmsman…you’re a better helmsman….you’re a better helmsman,” over and over again followed by my smug laughter. It’s the little things in life….
Aside from that, the day was pretty boring. Just a series of hailing bridges and motoring on. We got to Titusville in the late afternoon and were able find a deserted anchorage with depths that could accommodate our deep draft. We spent the next 2 nights there and even walked into town to re-provision our fresh produce. Next stop…Melbourne.
|A view from under the bridge|
|Moitessier anchored out. Isn't she lovely?|