Of Dragons and Manatees

Sometimes, the hardest part of this voyage is simply finding a place to land the dinghy. Arriving at new places as we do every time we drop anchor, we find that we spend a considerable amount of time just getting the lay of the land. Quite often, our cruising guides either omit or are unclear as to exactly where to land the dink. Daytona has three separate small harbors that by land are only minutes apart, but by our small dinghy seem much further. Our guide mentioned a dock at the West Marine but once there, we faced a dock so high that could only be scaled with climbing ropes or extension ladders. Well, actually, I was able to heave myself up but Joyce could only stand by and watch. The folks at West Marine directed us to the marina's fuel dock and from there, the marina folks gave us a key and sent us elsewhere to another far dock, all to get out and walk around for a spell.

And it was similar the next day when we wanted to walk down to the beach. One dock looked promising but once ashore, we found that the dock belonged to the condominium and was extemely private. We finally resorted to landing the dinghy on a rocky patch beneath the bridge, securing the dinghy to one of the bridge abutments.

The beach at Daytona is wide and hard, such that cars can drive along without fear of sinking into the sand. In fact, folks pay 5 dollars per car for this privilege. Beyond that, the attractions are minimal for even though it was a warm day, few people were in the water and fewer still were along the boardwalk. We walked back along Main Street, where store after store is dedicated to improving presence of the Harley (as in motorcycle) man and woman. The scent of new leather fumed out of one store after another in what you can be certain, is the most black leather per square block anywhere in the world. Nevertheless, we've enjoyed ourselves immensely, if nothing else, the fine weather and the pleasure of walking in the surf in t-shirts and shorts this late in November.

Heading south from Daytona, we passed by the venerable Florida landmark of Marineland. Done over by the nearby mega-resorts in Orlando, we were sad to learn that the sea shows there are no more. Our desire to finally see a manatee continued unfulfilled. As such, we were led into a compact anchorage in Haulover Canal, barely enough room for our one small boat, where our cruising guides promised that "manatees will swim around your boat day and night." Sure enough, we finally spotted not one but two of these elusive creatures even before we finished anchoring. Belonging to the class of mammals, we were close enough to hear their breathing as they broke the surface near our boat. We took seats on deck to watch, doubly rewarded by a very active dolphin working both in the anchorage and the nearby canal. The pelicans, terns, and herons also seemed to be keeping watch, as much on us as anything else. We had a bit of our own Marineland going on, ended only by the hoard of mosquitos and no-seeums emergence, chasing us below as nightfall approached.

The Intracoastal Waterway boater quickly becomes familiar with the sight of various kinds of opening bridges. By the time they get to Miami, they have stared down a wide array of every shape, kind and even color of opening bridge. (Yes, some bridges in Florida are even painted pink.) We come to recognize at a glance the single bascule bridge, double bascule, single pivot swing bridge, lift bridge and of all things a pontoon bridge. Most all except the railroad bridges are tended 24 hours a day, and by their voices, are tended by some very interesting characters. Most in North Carolina send you on your way with a cheery "You'all have a niiiice day" while other were gruff and short as if we've interrupted their favorite soap opera. Of all, we find the lift bridges to be the most intimidating only because the tenders raise the bridge to the height that they think you need to clear. From deck level, it often looks as though the clearance is quite insufficient, but the tender is raising it no higher. So through you go trusting in the professionalism of the tender. Of course, everyone has an off day once in a while, right?

We traveled next down to Melbourne for the Seven Seas Cruising Association's (SSCA) annual meeting and seminars. Always well attended, the meeting is a regular affair timed to coincide with the annual flight south. While many of those attending by boat chose the less protected anchorage right off the dock, we chose the more peaceful location adjacent to ‘the dragon' about a mile and half away. Only drawback, we now faced a long, wet, slow, dinghy ride across the Indian River to the meeting. Oh, the price of a good nights sleep. That morning, with our little two horsepower outboard sputtering along for all it's worth, we made our way over to the other side to where there were more dinghys in one place then we've ever seen. We later found out that one dinghy was sunk, the hull being punctured by barnacles on the docks pilings. After a full day of seminars,, it was time to start back. But now, the usually tranquil Indian River was even rougher than before. Forging our way out, we got no more than a quarter mile out when we ran out of gas and lost our gas cap trying to refuel.

For three days we attended the meeting, making new acquaintances and renewing a few old ones. We found it quite strange to be cooped up indoors for so long after being out in the open for so many days. But some of the seminars were interesting and we picked up some useful information.

So, now I would guess that you want to hear about the dragon. Okay, here goes. The 100 foot lime green dragon was built as a play-house for the children of the property owner. Constructed of concrete, the hollow interior and mouth large enough to hold 5 adults made quite the splash when it was built in 1971. Situated on the tip of Merrit Island at the junction of the Indian and Banana Rivers, the dragon is a well known landmark. We at first wondered whether the point was named for the dragon or vice versa, a bit of a chicken and egg thing. The mystery was quickly solved as we learned the ancient legend of the point. The story goes something like this; the Indian attackers were driven off when a ‘serpent' arose from the sea, saving the colonists from imminent peril.

From here, we'll travel the short distance down to Vero Beach, where we will take up station until after Thanksgiving in Jacksonville with Joyce's family and make final preparations for our attempt at crossing over to the Bahamas soon after. Our friends Martin and Tracy from Oasis are awaiting our arrival and have volunteered to cat sit while we are in Jacksonville.