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I finally got around to updating the “About Istaboa” section of this blog. Istaboa’s new interior inspired me to take a few photos and pictures often trigger an itch that only writing about them can scratch. I guess every picture does tell a story.
This is the final installment of a multi-part section that covers finding N57-26 back in 2006 and the years aboard Istaboa that have led up to now.
For those into 57s, there’s a lot about N57s in general and Istaboa in particular — See the column to your left.

Real Time

10 Years After

It’s now 2019: The economy is booming so everything’s great, —however— the boats are getting bigger, the marinas are packed, many of our old favorites have been bought out by large corporations; then there’s the boat fixers and insurance companies.
Things have changed.       Flashback to 2014
I guess we miss the easygoing days of the better than average “good” economy, however… we tentatively adjust.

It’s been more than a decade since moving aboard and putting Tennessee behind us – and almost 20 years since we started traveling around on boats. Mel and I have covered a lot of water since those early days. In that time, one of the things we’ve come to realize is, (this may be discouraging to some), our boating lifestyle is never glamorous and rarely exciting, but it is the life we chose and for the most part it’s exactly what we dreamed about  —maybe it’s in our DNA, but for sure it’s not just a line item on a list of things to do before we can’t.

Our boating habits have evolved over time, as has our boat. No longer full time liveaboards, we have a home in Jupiter, FL. (Mel and I finally asked the question, “wanna live here?”, one time too many.) We love our little beach house and the simple life there we share with our dogs, nevertheless 90% of our time is devoted to boats/marinas, and still, 3 to 6 months a year is spent aboard.

Our M-O

For us, a good boat trip is to comfortably motor around till we stumble on an out of the way place that’s interesting, not too crowded, then slowly blend in and make it home for a while.
That’s the beauty of this boating thing: home is where the boat is.

Last year we spent 6 weeks in little Georgetown, SC and had a nice time, however, I don’t think we would’ve felt that way 10 years ago. Georgetown’s a very calm and tranquil little harbor town and at this point in our life, tranquility’s a blast.

Recollections

Years back, The Abacos, Elbow Cay specifically, was home for a while. We once tied up at Sea Spray Marina thinking we’d stay a week and 2 months later we left.
That year the late spring winds, as they often do, blew hard and incessantly into the summer months. The weather kept us tethered to the dock, however that didn’t stop us from making the best of things.
Mel and I made lasting friendships during that long blow that have stood the test of time and in retrospect, if it weren’t for those unfavorable conditions, none of us would’ve ever have taken the time to get to know each other.
During that, “Whisky Wind” (as Junior Maynard, the Dock Master, called it), no matter what kind of boat you owned or what your socioeconomic status was, we all had a part in each other’s good time: everyone dressed similarly, ate the same food, drank the same booze; we were all trapped in paradise together, and life was good..

We once spent 4 months at Compass Cay in the Exumas. Life around the Pipe Creek area was simply special, and after some time we were welcomed to be honorary members of the Rolle family: an honor we’re very proud of.
Eventually, our stores of food and drink were depleted and we learned to get by as the out-island folk do. Departing friends and boaters would kindly leave us their unused provisions, weather permitting, we’d make runs to Staniel Cay where the Blue Store or the Pink Store might have some vegetables, and on a regular basis the local boys would bring us fresh fish.
Tucker taught me how to waste not, “Clean da head, dat’s the best part”, he’d say. Tuck was right, fresh fish head, eyeballs and all, made an excellent stew. (I’d eat the eyeballs, but just for effect… they really have no taste)
Following a nice Bahamian lady’s instructions, a few onions, potatoes, lady peppers, Bahamian thyme, a big clean Grouper head, thrown together and slow cooked in a big pot fed us all for 3 days. Spider crab, lobster, conch – as soon it was known we would cook, things just showed up on the boat and became dinner for those who wanted it.
Maybe it was the astounding blueness, possibly the island vibe, whatever — that long stay was mind altering and forever changed my life perspective. This is when we first experienced the zen of, “being” or — how to exist in the islands and maintain a grip on reality.  It took a while, but eventually we settled into island think. Need food? Go fish, or conch. Don’t worry about the small things, never get excited, find some shade with a good breeze, and in between naps, watch the tide roll in and out, and the tourist come and go.
It was quite interesting sitting in the shade of Compass’ dock overhang, watching the many big charter yachts running pell-mell up and down the Exuma chain, picking up or dropping off guests at Staniel Cay, anchoring at Big Majors, selfies with the pigs, then in a panic calling Compass on the VHF to ask Tucker for a slip and shelter from the impending storms.

There was good work done. We brought communications to places where there was none. It took much longer than it would have in the states, but no one cared. Soon it becomes apparent, the aim of Exuma life is to make the best of the moment. You “be”.

We’d take our little Albury to visit the other islands and do what shopping we could, and soon, Mel and I became acquainted with some remarkable and eccentric private island dwellers. They too were happy to have fresh company to get to know.

Running up and down Pipe Creek everyday was like living in a dream. Sometimes I’d just stop the Albury, look in all directions, and take in the view, absorbing every shade of blue imaginable. I remember thinking how lucky we were to be experiencing all of this, and being part of it.
Like backstage passes to paradise.

Late summer, with all the tourist gone, the place is really amazing.

All of this became the norm and soon I grew comfortable running the little-known routes through the rocks and shallows; understanding which run to take at different tide levels, almost as good as the natives. Every rocky point, every shoal, the water color, it all meant something. Like abstruse road signs, and you’d better pay attention to the details or you’d quickly end up high and dry, or worse.

This was a magical time for us, however the spell was broken by September and the peak of hurricane season. It became apparent that it was time for us to move on and we left just days before Hurricane Sandy blew hard across the Exuma chain.

Yes, that four months was extraordinary and we still like to return “home” and fall back into the island life on occasion, but we understand, that’s not our world, it’s there’s, and we’re thankful the Rolles share it with us.

We’ll not wear out our welcome.

The Chesapeake still holds a certain charm and we’ll often bump around up there during hurricane season. Annapolis is our favorite city, Solomons and the Herringtons are our favorite hangs, but many of the historic, boaty little towns are cool.  

A bit like the panhandle of Florida, the food is outstanding. Think local crabs and oysters prepared so many ways.

We really like being around the folks on the Chesapeake. For the most part, they’re a live and let live, good natured bunch; they love the Bay and everything about it. We’ve made many memorable acquaintances and some great friends there over the years; we always enjoy going back.

We feel fortunate to be able to take our time, keep our plans open, and become acquainted with the many marinas in the many ports along our way. From Tennessee to Nassau, too many places to list, we’ve stuck many pins; some small little out of the way places, others in big cities, but in all our travels the one thing we’ve always found to be true: *No matter where you go, there you are. (*credit either Confucius or Buckaroo Banzai)

If one has a curious eye and takes the time to observe their surroundings, there’s almost always something unique and compelling to be found. (almost)
Maybe a funky little restaurant that serves up the best shrimp and grits, like the Beaufort Cafe, the feeling of home away from home like Pensacola or Brunswick, sometimes it’s just a good vibe and the transcendental “being” thing blossoms, think Compass Cay or Solomons, the helter-skelter of an urban harbor like Nassau or Ft Lauderdale, or the stillness of a sunset on the Sassafras River, it really doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re experiencing life from a boat, it’s probably pretty good.
“And remember, no matter where you go, there you are.”

We also love this verse from “The Boxer” — we too look for those places.

So now we’ve become seasoned boaters, which is a kind way of saying we’re getting older, (which is a kind way of saying we’re approaching old AF) and the days of ambitious boat trips may be winding down for us. Never say never, though we’re quite content bumping around familiar places.

So with all that said, I’ll sum it up with this mental image…

At the end of a long day, there are few things more comfortable than following an old track line into a peaceful harbor and tying up in the sunset.

That’s pleasure boating

I finally got around to updating the “About Istaboa” section of this blog.
Istaboa’s new interior
inspired me to take a few photos and pictures often trigger an itch that only
writing about them can scratch. I guess every picture does tell a story.

This is the final installment of a multi-part section that covers finding N57-26
back in 2006 and the years aboard Istaboa that have led up to now.
For those into 57s, there’s a lot about N57s in general and Istaboa in
particular — See the column to your left.

Real Time

10 Years After

It’s now 2020: The economy is booming, everything’s great, —however— the boats
are getting bigger and the docks are packed with them. Many of our favorite
marinas have been bought out by large corporations, gutted of their
personalities, and it seems a knowledgeable dock staff is a relic from days gone by. Due to this current illusion of prosperity, the boat fixers are busy, most
are arrogant, and they’re all elusive. 

I’m getting older (and grumpier) and time is flying by, but it seems things have
changed dramatically in just a short time —Flashback to 2014
I guess we miss the easygoing days of the plain old “good” economy, however…
we tentatively adjust.

Still — life’s good.
—
Now a decade since moving aboard and putting Tennessee behind us; almost 20
years since we first started traveling about in boats, Mel and I have covered a
lot of water. And in all that time, at least one thing has become apparent, our
boating lifestyle is never glamorous and rarely exciting, but it is the life we
chose and for the most part it’s exactly what we dreamed it would be  —
probably in our DNA, but for sure our life aboard is not just a line item on a
list of things to do before we can’t.

Like us, our boating habits have matured, as has our boat. No longer full time
liveaboards, we have a home in Jupiter, FL. (Mel and I finally asked the
question, “wanna live here?”, one time too many.) We love our little beach house
and the simple life there we share with our dogs, nevertheless 90% of our time
is devoted to boats/marinas, and still, 3 to 6 months a year is spent aboard.

Our M-O

For us, and I’m not promoting our lifestyle as the boat life everyone should
subscribe too, but — for us —  a good boat trip is to comfortably motor
around till we stumble on an out of the way place that’s interesting but not too
crowded, then slowly blend in and make it home for a while.
That’s the beauty of this boating thing: home is where the boat is.

Last year we spent
6 weeks in little Georgetown, SC
and had quite a nice time, however, I don’t think we would’ve felt that way 10
years ago. Georgetown’s a very calm and tranquil little harbor town — at this
point in our life, tranquility’s a blast.

Recollections

Years ago, The Abacos, Elbow Cay specifically, was home for a while. We once
tied up at Sea Spray Marina thinking we’d stay a few days and 2 months later we
left.
That year the late spring winds, as they often do, blew hard and incessantly
into the summer months. The weather kept us tethered to the dock, however that
didn’t stop us from making the best of the situation.
Mel and I made lasting friendships during that long blow that have stood the
test of time and in retrospect, if it weren’t for those unfavorable conditions,
none of us would’ve ever taken the time to get to know each other.
During that, “Whisky Wind” (as Junior Maynard, the Dock Master, called it), no
matter what kind of boat you owned or what your socioeconomic status was, we all
played a part in each other’s good time: everyone dressed similarly, ate the
same food, drank the same booze; we were all
trapped in paradise together, and life was good..

We once lived at
Compass Cay in the Exumas. for a while. Life around the Pipe Creek area was simply special, and after some time we
were welcomed to be honorary members of the Rolle family: an honor we’re very
proud of.
About two months into that stay, our stores of food and drink were depleted and
we learned to get by as the out-island folk do. Departing friends and boaters
would generously leave us their unused provisions, weather permitting and if the
mail boat showed, we’d make runs to Staniel Cay where the Blue Store or the Pink
Store might have some vegetables, and on a regular basis the local boys would
bring us fresh fish.
Tucker taught me how to waste not, “Clean da head, don’t tro it away, dat’s da
best part”, he’d say. Tuck was right, fresh fish head, eyeballs and all, made an
excellent stew. (I’d eat the eyeballs, but just for effect… they really have
no taste)
Following a nice Bahamian lady’s instructions, a few onions, potatoes, lady
peppers, Bahamian thyme, a big clean Grouper head, thrown together and slow
cooked in a big pot fed us all for 3 days. Spider crab, lobster, conch – as soon
it was known we would cook, things just showed up on the boat and became dinner
for those who wanted it.
Tings to do wit fish

Maybe it was the overwhelming expanse of blueness, possibly the absence of
complication, probably the combination of all that and more, nevertheless that
long stay really was mind altering and forever changed my perspective. This is
when we first experienced the
zen of being  -or- How to exist in the Exumas and not lose your grip on reality. 
It took a while, but eventually we settled into island think. Need food? Go
fish, or conch: Don’t worry about the small things, never get excited, find some
shade with a good breeze, and in between naps, watch the tide roll in and out,
and the tour boats come and go.
Kicking back in one of the ragged lounge chairs scattered around the shade of
the Compass office overhang, it was amusing watching the many big charter yachts
running pell-mell up and down the Exuma chain. Their crews were always busy
picking up or dropping off charters at Staniel Cay then anchoring at Big Majors
where their guests would take selfies with the pigs then, as they turned to walk
away, have one of those cute pigs bite them on the ass.

In the mean time, back in the shade, (and disrupting my naps, I might add), the
ancient VHF radio would be constantly crackling, “Compass Cay, Compass
Cay”  and if Jamal answered, the yacht Caps would chat him up in hopes of
scoring a slip and shelter from the impending storms.

There was good work done.
We brought communications to places where there was none. Those projects took
much longer than they would have in the states, but no one cared. Soon it
becomes apparent, the aim of Exuma life is to make the best of the moment. You
“be”.

We’d take our little Albury to visit the other islands and do what shopping we
could, and soon, Mel and I became acquainted with some remarkable and
eccentric private island dwellers. They too were happy to have fresh company to get to know.

Running up and down Pipe Creek everyday was like living in a dream. Sometimes
I’d just stop the Albury, look in all directions, and take in the view,
absorbing every shade of blue imaginable. Not a day went by without thinking how
lucky we were to be experiencing all of this, and being part of it.
Like backstage passes to paradise.

Late summer, sans tourist, the place is really amazing.

As evidenced by the video below, Compass can become very crowded during season –
gentrification strikes again – still a beautiful place, though.

Cat Stevens – Longer Boats

All of this became the norm and soon I grew confident running the Albury around
the little-known routes through the rocks and shallows; understanding which run
to take at different tide levels, almost as good as the natives. Every rocky
point, every shoal, the water color, it all means something. Like obscure road
signs, you’d better pay attention to the details or you’d quickly end up on a
coral head, high and dry, or worse.

This was a magical time for us, however the spell was broken by September and
the peak of hurricane season. It became apparent that it was time for us to move
on and we left just days before Hurricane Sandy blew hard across the Exuma
chain.

Yes, that four months was an amazing experience and we still like to return
“home” and fall back into Compass life on occasion. We understand and respect;
it’s not our world, it’s there’s, and we’re thankful the Rolles share it with
us.

We’ll not wear out our welcome.

The Chesapeake still holds a certain charm and we’ll often bump around up there
during hurricane season. Annapolis is our favorite city, Solomons and the
Herringtons are our favorite hangs, but many of the historic, boaty little towns
are cool.  

A bit like the panhandle of Florida, the food is simple and good. Think local
crabs and oysters prepared so many ways.

We really like being around the folks on the Chesapeake. For the most part,
they’re an authentic live and let live, good natured bunch; they love the Bay
and everything about it. We’ve made many memorable acquaintances and some great
friends there over the years; we always enjoy going back.

We feel fortunate to be able to take our time, keep plans open-ended, and become
up close and personal with the many marinas in the many harbors along our way.
From Tennessee to Nassau, too many places to list, we’ve made ourselves at home.
In all our travels there’s one thing we’ve always found to be true: *No matter
where you go, there you are. (*credit either Confucius or
Buckaroo Banzai)

If one has a curious eye and takes the time to look around, there’s almost
always something unique and compelling to be found. (almost)
Maybe a funky little restaurant that serves up the best shrimp and grits, like
the Beaufort Cafe, the familiar comforts of Brunswick, GA, sometimes it’s just
simple naturalness and the transcendental “being” thing happens, think Compass
Cay. It can be as contrasting as the helter-skelter of an urban harbor like
Nassau or the stillness of the Sassafras River, it really doesn’t matter where
you are, if you’re experiencing life from a boat, it’s probably pretty good.
“And remember, no matter where you go, there you are.”

We also love this verse from “The Boxer” — we too look for those places.

So now we’ve become seasoned boaters, which is a kind way of saying we’re
getting older, (which is a kind way of saying we’re approaching old AF) and the
days of ambitious boat trips may be winding down for us. Never say never, though
we’re quite content bumping around familiar places.

So with all that said, I’ll sum it up with this mental image…

At the end of a long day, there are few things more comfortable than following
an old track line into a peaceful harbor and tying up in the sunset.

That’s pleasure boating

April: For a dose of reality, it’s good for us to leave the beach, the manicured seaside estates with palm trees swaying in the balmy sea breezes, and make the grueling 1000 mile drive up to funky old Memphis for some much needed contrast —and, to see what our old home town is up to.

We were pleased to find our neighborhood booming with cool new developments that have been squeezed into the renovated old buildings. The, circa 1909, Brewery next door has been transformed into luxury apartments and the old train station will soon be an upscale boutique hotel. An eclectic mix of restaurants are popping up everywhere and they appear to be busy, business is good. The area is thriving with young folks zipping around on those annoying little electric scooters and the trolley cars are running again. Yep, it seems like Downtown Memphis is finally enjoying a long awaited resurgence.

Springtime is the best time in Memphis

Springtime means Azaleas and Dogwoods are blooming everywhere you look and the locals are happily leaving their unpleasant inclinations indoors as they come outside with smiling faces and warm neighborly attitudes. I guess everyone’s been held hostage by winter’s grip and finally, spring awards them with a deserved respite from the cold, damp, river winds downtown Memphis has endured for months.

April is the month for local festivals before the massive Memphis in May International Festival cranks up and downtown is inundated with hundreds of thousands of tourists.

Our local fav is the Crawfish Fest – we can’t seem to find Crawfish in Jupiter or anywhere along the east coast, but in Memphis, in April, they’re everywhere, every weekend.

Loflin Yard, one of our favorite bars, is an indoor/outdoor watering hole that’s the backyard for the many downtown urbanites who have no yards. Folks bring the kids, their dogs, the whole family and enjoy. Shade to chill in the summer and fire pits to sit around when it’s cold.
Good music and good food = good times.

As we always do, we’ve enjoyed our stay. Hanging with our oldest friends and walking through the authentic funkiness that Memphis has an abundance of brings back the whole spectrum of memories — however, with some regret, we’re sad to say, it’s about time to pack up and bid adieu.
It’s time head back to Jupiter.

There’s a boat trip in our future.

Adios, Bluff City — See y’all in the Fall

April: For a dose of reality, it’s kinda nice to leave the beach, the manicured seaside estates with swaying palm trees, Jupiter’s near perfect winter weather, and make the 1000 mile drive up to funky old Memphis for some needed contrast, and, to see what our old home town is up to.

We were pleased to find our neighborhood booming with cool new developments of renovated old buildings. The old brewery next door has been transformed into luxury apartments and the old train station will soon be an upscale boutique hotel. An eclectic  mix of restaurants are popping up everywhere and they appear to be busy. The area is thriving with young folks zipping around on those annoying little electric scooters and the trolley cars are running again. Yep, it seems like Downtown Memphis is finally enjoying a long awaited resurgence.

Springtime brings out the best of Memphis

Springtime means Azaleas and Dogwoods are blooming everywhere you look and the locals are happily leaving their grumpy ways inside as they come out with smiling faces and neighborly attitudes. Everyone has been held hostage by winter’s grip and finally, spring awards them with a deserved respite from the cold, damp, river winds downtown Memphis has endured for months.

April is the month for local festivals before the massive Memphis in May International Festival cranks up and downtown is inundated with hundreds of thousands of tourists. Our local fav is the Crawfish Fest – we can’t seem to find Crawfish in Jupiter or anywhere along the east coast, but in Memphis, in April, they’re everywhere, every weekend.

As we always do we’ve enjoyed our stay, old friends, the authentic funkiness that Memphis has an abundance of, and the excellent food; however, it’s about time to pack up and bid adieu.
It’s time head back to Florida.

There’s a boat trip in our future.

Adios, River City — See y’all in the Fall

Nope — haven’t written anything in a while, haven’t taken any pics to speak of either, however, we’ve made the best of our time. Christmas in Jupiter was great; much better weather than Christmas in Memphis,  and it was cool hangin’ out on the boat up in Georgia. Mel’s been hankering for some fall weather and Brunswick/St Simons did serve that up from time to time.

We rode out the thankfully benign hurricane season at Brunswick Landing then moved over to St Simons Island and Morningstar Marina for their view and breeze. We like spending time in Glynn County, the local culture is comfortable and the local restaurants are good— especially after Labor Day.

Maggie Mae’s downtown Brunswick serves a blue-ribbon country style breakfast and the service is sincerely old school southern. Fox’s Pizza is good too, but never pass up Willy’s Wee-Nee Wagon and their Pork Chop Sandwich. It’s in the hood which gives it authenticity and street cred. (Some cruisers we spoke with scoffed at Willy’s but if you’re into geniune cultural experiences, you’ve got to go to Willy’s Wee-Nee Wagon.) Out on the island is Southern Soul BBQ and it’s truly fine. At the marina is Coastal Kitchen serving their version of Shrimp and Grits. The Half Shell, Halyards, Barbara Jeans, and Benny’s Red Barn – All Good!

Though it’s 350 miles up the boring and sometimes treacherous I-95, we made the trip several times a month to check on the boat and boater buddies. It was a nice break from S Florida’s summer heat.

We took advantage of our time in Brunswick/St Simons and made a few interior changes. Nothing major but the slight update made a surprising difference.

The ladies at Overall Upholstery on the island did a good job of recovering our Salon bar stools.

We considered home-porting Istaboa at Morningstar Marina, and she will probably soon return, but several maintenance jobs are needed and it’s great place to stay if we decide to take on the house project in Jupiter, so we picked a good day and started the milk run back south.

Last year on our trip north we ran outside in the ocean. This year on the way back down we took the slower more complicated route and stopped at several marinas to take care of a little business. A layover in St Augustine followed by a short run and a few days stay at Palm Coast Marina. (We really like little Palm Coast Marina, Rosey, the Harbormaster, is a kind person and a pleasure to be around. We watched the NFL playoffs there.)

Then with the purpose of finding warmer weather we pushed rather quickly to Daytona and Cocoa Village.
Leaving Cocoa was somewhat exciting. As was predicted, a nasty weather front was pushing through and in the blink of an eye a nice day turned into a raging storm.
Off to the west we watched the blow heading our way with a vengeance, soon dark skies covered us and blacked out all sunlight, the wind was crazy, and it was raining sideways; on board, our instruments were indicating gusts of 50+. Luckily we were in a wide area of the ICW and our electronics were working as they should — for an hour or so we couldn’t see much more than the bow of the boat but with an eye on the radar and chartplotter we slowly followed our old track lines. Then as quickly as it started, the storm passed and the sun came back out, though the harsh northwest wind remained all day.
Next up was Harbour Isle Marina – Ft Pierce, a quick bite at Chucks Seafood, and the following morning we cast off for home, Old Port Cove.
All in all, a nice, comfortable little run. Istaboa seemed to enjoy it, she hummed along, never missing a beat. It was a pleasure to be aboard, cocooned in her warm dry wheelhouse, during the bad weather we encountered leaving Cocoa Village. She heeled a bit during the big gusts but nothing more.

So now we’re home, Istaboa’s tied up at OPC, we’re diggin’ the Jupiter weather, happy, and as far as we know, healthy.

Boat Projects
A new venturi windshield, new lifelines, new dock lines, and a new spare anchor rode hatch. I feel carpet will be replaced soon and there’s a bottom job in our future.
Over the years, we’ve found that Istaboa treats us like we treat her – She’s been kind to us so we reciprocate.

Good Music
On long beach walks, a favorite diversion, this guy has been in my ears lately. Michael Franti. Very positive, very kind, a good mash-up of reggae/jazz/funk/folk and hip-hop.
Feel good music with a cause.

Cut from Wikipedia
Michael Franti & Spearhead, a band that blends hip hop with a variety of other styles including funk, reggae, jazz, folk, and rock. He is also an outspoken supporter for a wide spectrum of peace and social justice issues.

Worth a listen

So what’s next for Crew Istaboa? We’re not sure yet… surprised? After finishing a couple more boat projects, we sense a good stiff boat trip is in our future. In the meantime though… we’re content.

Good beach, good music, good food, life’s good.

Cheers,

Nope — haven’t written anything in a while, haven’t taken any pics to speak of either, however, we’ve made the best of our time and it was cool hangin’ on the boat up in Georgia. Mel’s been hankering for some fall weather and Brunswick/St Simons did serve that up from time to time.

We rode out the thankfully benign hurricane season at Brunswick Landing then moved over to St Simons Island and Morningstar Marina for their view and breeze. We like spending time in Glynn County, the local culture is comfortable and the local restaurants are good— especially after Labor Day post tourists.

Maggie Mae’s downtown Brunswick serves a blue-ribbon country style breakfast and the service is sincerely old school southern. Fox’s Pizza is good too, but never pass up Willy’s Wee-Nee Wagon and their Pork Chop Sandwich. It’s in the hood which gives it authenticity and street cred. (Some cruisers we spoke with scoffed at Willy’s but if you’re into geniune cultural experiences, you’ve got to go to Willy’s Wee-Nee Wagon.) Out on the isand is Southern Soul BBQ and it’s truly fine. At the marina is Coastal Kitchen serving their version of Shrimp and Grits. The Half Shell, Halyards, Barbara Jeans, and Benny’s Red Barn – All Good!

Though it’s 350 miles up the boring and sometimes treacherous I-95, we made the trip several times a month to check on the boat and boater buddies. It was a nice break from S Florida’s summer heat.
We took advantage of our time in Brunswick/St Simons and made a few interior changes. Nothing too major but the slight update made a surprising difference. The ladies at Overall Upholstery on the island did a good job of recovering our Salon bar stools.

We considered home-porting Istaboa at Morningstar Marina, and she will probably soon return, but we needed several maintenance jobs done and a place to stay if we decide to take on the house project in Jupiter, so we picked a good day and started the milk run back south.

Last year, on our trip north, we ran outside in the ocean. This year, on the way back down, we took the slower more complicated route and stopped at several marinas to take care of a little business. A stop in St Augustine, then a short run and a few days stay at Palm Coast Marina. (We really like little Palm Coast Marina, Rosey, the Harbormaster, is a kind person and a pleasure to be around. We watched the NFL playoffs there.) Then, with the purpose of finding warmer weather, we pushed rather quickly to Daytona, and Cocoa Village.
Leaving Cocoa was exciting. As was predicted, a nasty weather front pushed through and in the blink of an eye a nice day turned into a raging storm.
Off to the west we watched the blow heading our way with a vengeance, soon dark skies covered us and blacked out all sunlight, the wind started blowing crazy, and it was raining sideways; on board, our instruments were indicating gusts of 50+. Luckily we were in a wide area of the ICW and our electronics were working as they should — for an hour or so we couldn’t see much more than the bow of the boat and so we kept an eye on the radar and slowly followed our old track lines on the chart plotter. Then as quickly as it started, the storm passed and the sun came back out, though the harsh northwest wind remained all day.
Next up was Harbour Isle Marina – Ft Pierce, a quick bite at Chucks Seafood, and the following morning we cast off for home, Old Port Cove.
All in all, a nice, comfortable little run. Istaboa seemed to enjoy it, she hummed along, never missing a beat. It was a pleasure to be aboard, cocooned in her warm dry wheelhouse, during the bad weather we encountered leaving Cocoa Village. She heeled a bit during the big gusts but nothing more.

So now we’re home, Istaboa’s tied up at OPC, we’re diggin’ the Jupiter weather, happy, and as far as we know, healthy.

Boat Projects. A new venturi windshield, new lifelines, new dock lines, and a new spare anchor rode hatch. I feel carpet will be replaced soon and there’s a bottom job in our future.
Over the years, we’ve found that Istaboa treats us like we treat her – She’s been kind to us so we reciprocate.

Good Music
On long beach walks, a favorite diversion, this guy has been in my ears lately. Michael Franti. Very positive, very kind, good reggae mixed with a taste of jazz/funk/folk and hip-hop.
Feel good music with a cause.

Cut from Wikipedia…
Michael Franti & Spearhead, a band that blends hip hop with a variety of other styles including funk, reggae, jazz, folk, and rock. He is also an outspoken supporter for a wide spectrum of peace and social justice issues.

Worth a listen

So what’s next for Crew Istaboa? We’re not sure yet… surprised? After finishing a couple more boat projects, we sense a good stiff boat trip is in our future. In the meantime though… we’re content.

Good beach, good music, good food, life’s good.

Cheers,

Link:https://kottke.org/18/12/greenland-land-of-unending-ice Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa

Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa

Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa

Nordhavn 57-26 Istaboa