ICW #9

On Sunday Dec. 9th we experienced the first daytime rain since leaving Canada more than four months ago! During this time three brief showers passed over the boat at night but for 131 days we managed to exist without a single shower falling during daylight hours!

The journey from Vero Beach to Lake Worth, at 60plus statute miles, was too much for us to complete in one day. But when we left Vero that morning we had no idea where we’d be able to stop for the night since the depths at anchorages noted on the charts were dangerously low for our draft. You can imagine our surprise then to discover just beyond the St. Lucie Inlet, a handful of transient boats bobbing comfortably in “Peck Lake.” We had discounted this place as a possible anchorage because chart depths read 3-4 feet! But as we cautiously motored out of the ICW toward the relative safety of other vessels, we encountered consistent reading of 12-15 feet. Go figure! This unexpected anchorage turned into one of our favorites. On the charts it presents itself as a little “bubble” attached to a long thin stretch of canal. In reality this charming place is more like a large circular pond, ringed with palm trees and sand beach. On its eastern shore a narrow strip of land covered with thick vegetation separates the placid lake from the wild Atlantic coast, effectively sheltering it from onshore winds. A well-worn sandy path winds through the undergrowth connecting lake to ocean, makes it possible to walk for many miles along an unspoilt stretch of Atlantic shoreline. From the boat we watched as families dinghied up onto the sand and children frolicked in the calm shallow water. It really was a delightful place and we were reluctant to leave the next morning as we re-entered the ICW and began motoring southward back along the narrow canal.

At Hobe Sound subtle changes occur along the waterway as it begins its approach towards the heavily populated area north of Miami. The wide expanses of open water characteristic of northern Florida continue to shrink until beyond Lake Worth they are replaced almost completely by a narrow canal. Gone are the miles of thick vegetation with its attendant wildlife and little islands dotted with palms, as civilization encroaches increasingly across the natural landscape. Here mangrove marshes are replaced by magnificent mansions, beaches give way to retaining walls and carefully landscaped gardens supplant the careless riot or wilderness. Much as we love nature, it is impossible not to be mesmerized by the incredible beauty of these upscale shoreside communities which line the banks of the ICW from Hobe Sound to Lake Worth.

Once inside the lake itself however, it’s an entirely different story. This body of water is too big to be beautiful. Here we saw tired condos and apartment complexes, hold-overs from a 50’s building boom, set into barren stretches of land along the waters edge. There were several commercial enterprises with attendant cranes blotting the shorescape and a few seemingly abandoned and derelict boats anchored out near run-down marinas. We knew that “Salty Goose” had a slip at one of these places and we had arranged, sight unseen, to join them there for the evening. But when we hailed the marina on channel 16, we got no response. For more than ten minutes we circled the waters beside the gas dock looking for help and directions to our slip—but to no avail. Eventually we caught the attention of an employee loitering around the boats, called over to him and begged for assistance. He reluctantly complied and, after securing our lines, told us we could remain tied to the fuel dock for the remainder of our stay. But when we followed him up to the office to settle our account the following confrontation ensued:

Officeboy: “Where you got that boat docked?”
Us: “At the end of the gas dock.”
Officeboy: “You can’t stay there—you got move!”
Us: “The dockboy tied us up there. We’re OK with it.”
Dockboy: “They doan got move! They fine wit it!”
Officeboy: “What you be thinkin?! I said they got move!”
Dockboy: “Doan you be tellin’ ME what ta do! You aint dockmasta !
Officeboy: “Who be dockmasta today?!
Dockboy: “Aint no dockmasta today—and I aint movin no boat!!

We silently slipped away as this banter continued on unabated and made our way as inconspicuously as possible back to our boat. About the only thing this marina had going for it was its cheap daily rate—only $1.00/ft. But our experience here certainly proved the old adage “You get what you pay for” to be true. We locked up the boat, dinghy and motor, eventually found our friends and, putting the unpleasantness of first impressions behind us, went on to have an enjoyable stay here in good company.