Fighting the Tide

St. Augustine to Atlantic Bridges – 29 nautical miles sailed, 2 miles in dinghy, 6 kilometres walked 

We decided another half day in St. Augustine was in order so we spent a couple of hours walking deeper into the peaceful residential neighbourhoods, avoiding the Saturday crush of tourists in the centre. We had considered attending the Lions Seafood Festival, but when we arrived and found an entrance fee, festival grounds jammed full of people, a band playing pop country, perfectly arranged rows of blue portable toilets giving off that fresh blue liquid smell, a throng of vendors selling generic crap, and no seafood in sight, we decided to return to the boat and make some miles.

The timing of the tides is far more important on the ICW that it is on the ocean as the narrow channels can develop strong currents, especially in the middle of the six-hour cycle of high to low. Sometimes these work in your favour, sometimes then don’t. Today, they did not. We motor-sailed through an opposing tide of 2 – 3 knots for nearly the entire ride, making a painfully slow 4 knots at times, occasionally less. There was a tremendous amount of boat traffic and the small powerboats and jet skis swarmed us like fruit flies on a three-day-old banana, kicking up wake from every direction, often waving at us and smiling as they passed ten feet from us, throwing tsunamis that rocked SeaLight back and forth, sending paperback novels and serving dishes flying.

The route was not particularly interesting, besides one stretch called Palm Valley which was a ruler-straight, narrow channel rowed with a series of houses, long docks, and two Bars and Grills on either end crammed full of people hammering back the Bud Lights, eating bacon double cheeseburgers with curly fries, and enjoying the occasional peeks of sunshine through the mainly overcast sky. Ana pulled up the aerial view on Google and found a huge residential area riddled with lakes, canals, and thousands of houses, which looked much like magnified bacteria culture in a petri dish.

We arrived to the Atlantic Boulevard Twin Bridges around 6:30 pm and dropped anchor in a wide area with strong current opposed by the 15 knot wind, which caused the boat to list and spin and grind against the anchor chain as it could not decide which way to go, like a kid faced with a candy store in one direction and ice cream shop in the other, with ten bucks in his sweaty hand and no parents in sight.

With a close eye on the anchor alarm, we enjoyed a long sundowner then had a delicious meal of pasta and meat sauce, which was superior to our strange meal last night that we consumed while watching a horror movie on Ana’s phone.

By later in the evening the boat traffic had slowed to a trickle, the vehicular traffic on the bridge had dried up, the currents and wind had come to an understanding, and we were able to enjoy a peaceful and quiet night at anchor.