Thursday, April 30, 2009

Back on Thursday

We are approaching the Friday, it being only ten hours away, endure the work day and we will see freedom in approximately 26 hours.

Went to a planning meeting for the weekend trip. There was an excellent presentation by Revere Supply Co, makers of fine life rafts and other marine survival gear.

Was that supposed to be some sort of foreshadowing moment? It's only a thirty mile jaunt offshore...

This trip is to be a cruise/fishing contest. Bring in the biggest five fish (excluding barracuda, bonita, sharks, remora) and who ever has the heaviest aggregate, wins.

What? Like I really think I can catch five fish, much less excluding all those other fish listed in the parentheses. I haven't caught five fish in six years, much less expect to do so this weekend.

The thing we are looking forward to (as if you didn't know it) is the thrill of getting underway on Saturday morning, watching the sun rise up as we traverse the thirty miles to the ocean. Or to the Intracoastal waterway, and heading South in a gloriously warm Spring day.

I expect to see this:

View Larger Map

St Augustine is on the South Eastern corner and we will begin the trip by the bridge on the St Johns, Buckman Bridge. Sixty miles, overall.

There is a couple of offshore poles available to me, I have some fine larger Rapala lures and I hope we can somehow score a nice Dorado that will serve as the main course ofr Saturday's dinner. But we shall bring some frozen steaks in case the fish ignore my weak catching skills.

After we do the post weekend report I will return to Southampton England (via memory lane) and catch everyone up on the continuing story of the Wildebeest III, "The Journey to a new home".

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Reader Fire Fox has never seen a Cat on a Boat

Until now.

Here is Mao standing on the Helm Console on last Barco, Superbowl 2005 in Jacksonville;

Mao really loves being on a boat, he just likes other boats, too. He will go on "walkabout".

Planning meeting tonight for St Augustine

At 1800, there will be a meeting of boat Skippers for the St Augustine Cruise and Fishing Contest.

We will be talking about our berthing arrangements at Camachee Cove
and also whatever they want to discuss concerning the fishing.

I'm not sure of the way we will go; Either the ocean or the Intracoastal. The ocean is quicker and we can drag a lure behind and maybe catch a Dorado or Mackerel. We can also just set the autohelm and throttle and just relax, there are no obstructions and it is a big ocean.

The ICW is protected from the winds and ocean swells, so it would be much smoother but slower going. Not to mention the rude boats going the speed of heat who leave irresponsible wakes.

See this Google Map to get a better idea:

View Larger Map

Does anyone know how to get rid of the stupid address bubble when adding Google Map to Blog?

Anyhow, you can see that the Intracoastal is twisty while the ocean looks invitingly straight. It will just depend on winds and wave heights.

Hyacinth gets scared, you know.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Howza 'bout wrappin' this manuscript up!

Ok, ok.

Thursday night was very sedate, we had a light meal, watched the sunset and hit the rack at about 2100. We planned on an early morning departure, maybe around 0700.


Woke at the crack of 0730, made some coffee and some brekky and prepared to get underway in minimum time. About 0830, started motors and pulled the lines in. There was a slight breeze from the East, but shouldn't be a problem.

I backed out, towards that other trawler when things went really wrong. I ran aground, and the wind began twisting us to the right, towards that other boat!

There is a small crowd watching me slowly try to recover, but I had to go forward to get off the mud. This brought Barco in between the docks, heading for more shallow!
I started some real adrenalin pumping as I tried to turn the boat around, while the wind and the rudders resisted me... I got real aggressive, as people started yelling and giving bad advice.

I pumped the starboard engine forward while firing the port engine at about 1200 rpm to twist the boat to the left. I centered the rudders, put bot engined to idle as I shifted to full reverse.

The nice person from the Trawler behind (the one who kinda forgot to tell me that there was a bank just to his left... started to tell me what I already knew what to do. As the boat began to leave the docks, he told me to stop and avoid the other bank which had been immediately in front of me.

She Who Will Be Obeyed told everyone that we were just doing all of this yanking and banking for their entertainment, call it "Anchor Follies".

We got away cleanly, just some minor errors. The mudbanks are not listed in the NOAA charts, so it is a "Local Knowledge" kinda thing.

Now I Know! That will never happen again. I really hate looking stupid, but it would have been nice if I got the memo. Some people love to see someone fail because it makes themselves feel a bit superior.


So we slowly made our way to the North, enjoying another cup of coffee and some relief.

We passed the familiar places noticing it was all bass fisherman, up and down the river. The speed was kept slow to not cause unnecessary wakes. The winds began to pick up to 15, gusting to 22 out of the East. The NOAA weather broadcast on the VHF radio began to tell of small craft warnings due to "Lake Effect". Lake Effect is the influence strong winds produce on flat waters... think of the big waves on the ocean from the winds, only on a lake, there are steep and choppy waves which can flip a small boat.

Not Barco. We are simply too big for that kind of thing. We can get uncomfortable, maybe even hit bottom in some shallows, but we really are too long and beamy for much concern. I knew it would become bumpy on Lake George.

Charlie Mike!

We got past the bridge and made way to Lake George. As we left Astor, we got waked by a couple of power boats, unecessarily. Thanks, "Wags to Riches". You f^#*&^g Maggot, hope you ran aground at your Silver Glen Springs arrival!

The other boat, "50/50", also waked us. But it was clear that this was a 18 foot power boat (probably also making Silver Glen Springs their destination...) that was being captained by someone who did not know the rules. Or how to navigate.

"Wags to Riches" was about a quarter mile ahead, entering the Volusia Bank channel, where they waked "50/50", who was in the mud throwing up a muddy rooster tail. Stuck.

We snickered, as we passed by slowly. The captain of "50/50" began waving at us, trying to get us to go back and pull them off.


We draw 3.5 feet, they draw about a foot and a half. No way am I going to pull someone like that off. Besides, the wind was now steady above 25 knots, and the waves were picking up.

The VHF started making talk noises...

"50/50 calling..."


"50/50 calling..."


The Spousal Unit began to feel sorry for these folks. It wasn't too many years ago, (17) where we needed to have a tow and someone we did not know came to help us.

No way was I going to risk our boat for people who were going to be alright, even if they hopped out of the boat and pushed it off the mud. By the way, if we had a light boat I had their boat, I would be off of it getting us off the mud and back underway.

Then again, I always have convenient answers, don't I. Jerk.

"50/50, this is Barco Sin Vela on One Six"

"This is 50/50, over"

"50/50, please switch to channel One Seven, Over"

I switch to channel 17 so we would not clobber channel 16, which is for hailing and emergency use, only.

When I made the switch, I noticed the screen of my radio said, "Channel 17, Government/Harbor Pilot"

Huh? These radios tell you everything, including Lat and Long.

50/50 noticed this, too. I call him back.

"50/50, Barco Sin Vela".

"50/50 here, are you a pilot?"

Cue the Scooby-doo. "Arrrughhh"?

"Uh, no. You gotta pen?"

"Why do I need a pen?"

"Just get one," I said.

After a few minutes goes by... "Ok, Barco. I have a pen"

"Write this down, 800-888-4869. You get that?"

He reads it back. I tell him to call Towboat US at that number. They will send someone out to get them.

"Don't forget to tell them you are on the Volusia Bank"

"Roger. Thank you..."

So we enter Lake George feeling nice for helping out the stranded boater.

Note about Boat US; I have been covered under their "Unlimited" towing since returning to the US eight years ago. I pay about a hundred bucks a year, and if I need to be towed Boat US pays the entire amount. I ran aground in the Intracoastal near St Augustine, and rather than wreck the boat more, I called Boat US who pulled me off. The charge was $675, but I paid nothing.

50/50 will be calling the Boat US folks on a land line. They will give him the opportunity to join (if he hasn't already) and his first tow will essentially cost a hundred bucks. Not too bad.

The winds and the swells are picking up. There is a pontoon boat behind us, about 200 yards back. He is bouncing around, but it looks like he is trying to stay in our wake to smooth out his ride. We kept an eye on this boat in case he flips over, I wish he would pull up closer, in order to take advantage of the close in wake and avoid the waves that are tossing him around, but he doesnt, despite us slowing down.

There are no pictures because it is really is bumpy and there is water splashing over our bow. But the sun is still shining, and we are snug and dry inside the plastic enclosure. Our buddy is still making wqay, and within an hour we are leaving Lake George.

Calm returns as the winds are masked by the shore. The pontoon boat breaks to the East and runs to his home and we begin to relax. I got a picture of an eagle that snatched a fish about twenty yards away. But due to the camera not being ready, I had to be happy with a stern shot.

We continued up past Little Lake George and approached Welaka. There, we planned on stopping by to see our friends, "Bob and Nicky".

I pulled up to their dock, made the smoothest approach and landing. Opened up some beer and relaxed for the first time in five hours.

We finished dinner and had an early night, we were underway at 0830 and heading home. Very nice evening and we could feel the pressures of the coming week. We don't like ending vacations!

As we came around the bend to Murphy's isalnd, we noticed the railroad bridge was DOWN! What? First time I had ever seen that bridge even operate!

No big deal, the train went through and we continued to Palatka. Clouds were rolling in and it started to look like rain. We passed Palatka, very windy and temperatures were dropping. Rain was sure to begin as we made the twists and turns.

I bumped the speed up to 2000 RPM's, and we started to get to the blistering speed of 9 knots! Yikes!

We blasted through a Sailboat Race, North of the Shands bridge. We stayed well clear and admired all of the nice boats having a fabulous sail, winds out of the East at about 20 knots.

WE arrived at the Pirate's Cove at about 1630, wrapping up about eight hours underway.

In order to drag our vacation out just one more night, we did dinner and drinks at the Yacht Club. Taps was called at 2100 and we settled in for the night. At 0500, I woke up, sensing something wrong. I couldn't really figure what it was, but, hmmm. Turned on the Airconditioner, I smelled fuel. I chose to ignore it, hoping I was just sensitive.

She Who Will Be Obeyed says, "is that diesel?"

Darn. Gonna have to do something about it. I opened up the aft engine compartment; Nothing. Just a smell of raw diesel. Go to the front; Bingo.

Two cups of diesel in the bilge (The Bilge Pump had been in the Off Position!) Nothing pumped over the side. Whew!

The offending item was a Racor filter dripping fuel slowly. I tried to tighten it, but the leak remained. I shut off the fuel valves from the port tank and placed a bowl under the filter.

Saved Again!
I could have had a major incident, losing a hundred gallons of diesel into the bilge, which would have been up to the engines! A second bilge pump might have kicked on, polluting an entire cove off of the St Johns, possibly resulting in a fine of over ten grand. Maybe up to 100K. Shudder.

Instead, I shut the fuel system down and cleaned up the small mess. I had my buddy come out and replace the filter. We called it a vacation and went home to the abused Siamese, and a home filled with dirty clothes and a return to normalcy.

The Lord watches out for fools and drunks.

Our next mission?

St Augustine, May Day! (May 1-May 3)

We will be in the Marina by the Villano Bridge, Camachee Cove. Look on the North by the big bridge, you can see the small marina on the West Bank of the Intracoastal.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Wasn't I just here Monday? Get on with the story!!

Great weekend, here in Jacksonville. Warm breezes and clear skies making sunburn a problem once again to the uncovered.

Delmonico steaks with Spanish wine started our weekend, followed by a Heidsieck Monopole Champagne to round out the night. The decision to stay home for Friday was easy, since we had a couple hard nights entertaining guests and were still feeling the weariness of the previous ten days.

Hyacinth Kitty was not pleased with our decision to stay home, since her habit is a boat weekend that begins at 1800, Friday. On the boat, thank you very much.

Saturday morning was a slow and unhurried one, until a call came in from one of my so-called friends; He asked if I was busy... Why, no. Just trying to come up with something for my Blog.

Could I go to the boat and bring some parts? Hmmm?

Sure, ok. (I haven't mentioned that this guy is a Diesel Technician, did I?) Oh yes, I am available. Good ol' John had helped me just a couple days ago, changing RACOR's on the Barco, it's the beginning of a underground economy relationship!

Take that, tax hungry gubmint parasites.

So the Spousal Unit and I bustered out to the local boat parts place on Lakeshore (Lamb's Yacht Center) and waited 20 minutes to get a couple of fuel system parts for a 6 hp OMC outboard. Then it was off to the Barco to await the sailing arrival of my friend.

An hour and a half later, they creeped slowly into Pirates Cove and I met them at the dock with the parts and burgers w/PBR. Naturally, there was a screw missing, so off to the hardware store we went. An hour and a half after that trip, my friends were off and running, like a herd of turtles.

That was my morning. Not too bad, especially since I had no where to be and the Florida sunshine was present and accounted for.

Back to Hontoon Island:

After returning to the Barco from our cross island Force March, we cracked into the afternoon refreshments and did lunch. I brought out my fish killin' stick and proceeded to drown some worms. A power boat pulled up with a couple of retired airline pilots, who seemed nice enough.

That is exactly what took us through to sunset, which was when I decided to install our new Barbecue device. (99 bucks at West Marine!) and then the real beer and wine started to flow, coinciding with the proper grilling of our beef products, after which more beer and wine were consumed. We got tired of yelling across to Bud and Ed, so we invited them aboard to quietly continue our important conversation.

Ed asked me if I had ever heard of his Navy Helo buddy, Rich Lam***t. Class of 1968?

Why yes. I flew with that person from 1982 through 1985 when I was at an Alameda Helo squadron. (Look at the bottom of the page at the white helicopter, the mentioned person may have been flying that day!)

What a small world.

The next morning, we had some real bad storms passing through, there was a tornado watch and some real threatening clouds circling us. We packed the kitty into her bag and ducked out to the ranger office for cover.

This Manatee came up to say hello.

The manatee was in and out of the marina, lurking about in about two feet of water. You could see it about three or four times a day.

The next day, the weather had cleared up and we decided to take a canoe up the St Francis river. 15.00 for three hours, not a bad rate. We would normally take our kayaks, but you will see why we didn't. Foreshadowing...

No swim call, today!

We paddled to Snake Creek, and halfway up this creek, with both paddles, we started being slowed down by the water hyacinth rafts, to the point of having to be surrounded and push our way through.

Did you know that water moccasins like to be in those patches of plants?

Maybe not, but I like mobility to avoid my friendly snakes. They can have anything they want but me.

So we made a dignified retreat to the reverse course.

There were plenty of bass fishing boats and pontoon boats, but most annoying were Yahoo's who rented party houseboats traveling up and down the creek with their favorite music blasting out, making rebel yells and drinking to excess.

Looked like good ol' fashioned fun to me, but really, turn the music down and don't try to match Jim Morrison singing, "Break on through to the other side...!" In unison. Ouch.

We paddled back and turned in the canoe. That was a workout!

The next morning

We found ourselves short of that substance that turns bitter coffee into the happy, blonde way to start the day, half and half. We were roughing it, alright. We also needed some mayonnaise and an excuse to see the booming metropolis of Deland, Florida.

I also found that I was down to about ten beers.

Most people would be able to suss out the reason for our trip to Deland. Nail clippers, right?

Off onto the trusty electric powered ferry we did go.

Good thing the cost of the ferry was the exact change I had in my pocket, which was "none". We went over to Hontoon Resort and Marina, where ewe too, can rent a pontoon boat for about 65 bucks!

Hontoon Landing is actually a very nice facility, not quite as rustic as the State Park. They have all the amenities like worms, t-shirts and beer. But it is gonna cost 10 bucks for a six pack of bud. Not.

I stepped into the marina shop and asked if they had a number to a Taxi. They began to hand me a phone book when a nice gentleman offered to run us into town, since he had missed a maintenance appointment for his houseboat.

Jaii Hein is his name and Sound Productions is his game. Jaii was very, very nice to volunteer to drive us to the Main street in Deland and show us his home town.

I need to find my radio station voice over:
For quality Sound Equipment for your next concert or charity doo, call Jaii Hein Sound Productions!
Big sound at budget prices!

Jaii is the kind of person who may be growing older, but definitely not up. We drove into town and had lunch at a little soup/sandwich kitchen. Then, off to the record store (just like Rasputin Records, on Telegraph Ave, Berkeley), a new age shop where Jaii bought one of those "Coexist" bumper stickers and also a quick stop for a haircuts, for Yours Truly.

Jaii proudly told me that he hasn't had a haircut since he left the Navy in 1973! I on the other hand, have had the same hairdo since Jerry Garcia was still alive and jammin'.

Back to Winn Dixie for some PBR and mayo and back to the boat.

Really nice guy, we offered to have him stop by that afternoon, but it didn't work out. We did honk as we passed him the next morning. Hope we all get to meet again, as Jaii made our dull afternoon into a great event. Thanks, again.

It was time to try fishing some more; So I cast my Rapala bass lure a couple more times. On my third cast, I actually had a bass on the line. It was fighting me and I was trying to get some attention for my victory when I lost my head and gave a mighty tug to set the hook. The bass jumped out of the water and spit my miserable lure back at me. That was the only time I had even a smidgen of luck.

Oh well. I don't really like eating fish, anyhow, and all I would have done was snapped a picture and tossed it back to live a little longer.


Buck complimented my sunset picture of the grill, so I figure I better add in some other sunset photos.

Friday, April 24, 2009

I feel Fweeeee!

Reveille came at the crack of seven, and after waffles and coffee, we decided to go hike the island.

A chart of the park was acquired at the ranger office and we attired ourselves in appropriate clothing and shoes and hit the trail. We walked along a dirt road until we came to the Nature Trail.

This trail wound along until the water was reached, and we read carefully the display signs describing the trees and bushes. Very nice path, it was well cared for and interesting.

I started flashing back to Aircrew Land Survival School at Eglin AFB, thinking about making camp with saw palmetto, building a fire with a little heat reflecting wall and snacking on palmetto roots. Like 1982, I started to wish for some pizza.

(All I had to do was walk back to the boat if I needed food...)

The sounds of wildlife became more apparent. Woodpeckers a peckin', bugs a buzzin, owls a hootin', you get the idea. I was thinking about snakes a slitherin'. Here is some sort of bird inna tree...

Moving on down the path way, we saw a break which led to water. Look at this character:

The view of the small river is actually very nice. Back when this was a working ranch, there must have been some very lucky families who thought this was all an everyday thing, and they couldn't wait to get out of this backwoods dump and live in Jacksonville.

We charlie mike'd on to the destination: Timucuan Shell Mound. The "Owl Clan" of the Timucuan's had lived on Hontoon for thousands of years, eating (and probably being eaten!) the local gators, fish and of course, the ever present freshwater snails. They would boil the shell critters into a broth and use bone utensils to extract the yummy filling. Shell mounds are the mess they left behind. The State does not want us stealing the trash.

Seriously; If I found something of note, the last thing I would do is run off with it. I saw the "Brady Bunch in Hawaii", maybe it was titled, "Marsha's Maui Adventure", or was it "Peter stole some artifacts and Sherwood Schwartz wants his teeth back"?


Here is what we found on the two thousand year old mound:

I would not disturb the mound. Nothing to see but leftovers, maybe imagine a nicer smelling dump.

A modern day human can almost feel the connection to past peoples who sat in that spot tossing their empties on to the trash mound. One other thing; I don't feel there was anything spiritual about the early residents, and we need to stop projecting some sort of reverence and mystery into what these people were doing, otherwise we get into ancestor worship:
But I can tell you what they were doing and feeling;

THEY HAD FARGIN' TOOTHACHE'S AND WERE LOOKING FOR THE NEXT MEAL! Oww-owww and running from hungry gators! (Think of the late Sam Kinison yelling that last sentence)

A look to the lower land which probably has the real remains of the people and their implements of living:

So back we meandered. We got to the part of the trail by the Buzzard's Gate and decided to head over to the dirt road since my Spousal Unit's ankles were up to no good. As we traipsed along, (remember the snakes I was afraid of?) we heard stirring in the brush to our left. This little guy cam stumbling out. How often does a Floridian get to see one of these in a living state?

Soon, we came to this curious sign. I immediately looked down to see if I could find that "fork" in the road. Like Yogi says, "When you get to a fork in the road; Take it!"

There was a little concern now, we could be lost. But we kept moving and came upon a campsite.

Twelve bucks a night!

Drawing our hike to an end, we came upon this hawk doing the hawk thing:

Upon return to Barco for lunch, we found the welcome committee in repose:

That turtle above? We found him sunning on the river. If he keeps meditating in the sunlight, I swear he is gonna fly!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Charlie Mike

Barco Sin Vela, This is Alpha Whiskey; Charlie Mike

Continue Mission:

We entered the next portion of the St Johns River at the Volusia Bank, which the Army Corps Of Engineers have kindly added in pilings set up as a sort of cattle run. It's ok with me, since I really detest having the bottom of our hull have much direct interface with the mud.

Don't forget to not leave a wake!

This was getting exciting, since there were now a few more boats lurking about, going as slow as possible. Of course, the State Fish and Wildlife enforcement officer waiting at the other side, looking lonely and bored may have had more of an influence with all of the good behavior being demonstrated by the zippy power boats.

A typical zippy power boat with a nice family.

An Airboat. These things enable people to rapidly traverse shallow and grassy waters.

We entered the main channel and immediately noticed the flora and fauna. Especially the fauna. It wasn't that we saw many alligators, more that we constantly saw them. About every clearing on the bank had one or two loafing gators, lazily relaxing in the warm Florida sunshine.

This would not be a time for swimming, no sirree!

The time was approaching noon, so we were really getting the vivid hues of spring, and all of the vegetation exploded in greenness. The river was probably at its best viewing condition and we were feeling the excitement that visitors from a hundred twenty years ago would have described in better prose. Plus, the air temp was a sultry eighty degrees.

Our journey up (note I say UP river and not DOWN, we are actually heading towards the beginning of the St Johns) river is slowly taking us to a little town called "Astor". It is now a retirement resort community of trailers, small cottages and encampments mainly occupied by refugees from the northern, snowy parts of North America.

No wakes, please.

Astor was the place to be, back around the nineties. Eighteen
A little taste of history from
In 1763, James Spalding and Roger Kelsell established two trading posts on the St. Johns River. Their "upper store" was located in Astor, with the "lower store" south of Palatka. Spalding chose the Astor site because it was at the crossing of three Indian trails coming here from the southwest, west and northwest. The location was also used by several Indian villages for launching their canoes when fishing or hunting parties wanted to explore the river. In 1769, Gov. James Grant promised Spalding to make a town out of his upper store. He didn't keep that promise. In 1774, Indians ransacked the store and the storekeepers fled to Shell Isle. When Spalding closed the store, the chiefs agreed to pay for the damage. By 1776, William Panton was in business with Spalding.
Later, Mr. Forbes succeeded Panton and Mr. Leslie succeeded Spalding in the business. The site was later the location of Fort Butler, a crude log stockade and barracks erected in 1838. It was designed to protect the river. A post office was established at the fort in 1839. The fort was abandoned in 1843 for health reasons.

William Astor, the grandson of John Jacob Astor, bought 12,905.93 acres on the river from the Moses Levy estate. With his partners, William S. Boyd and Richard McLaughlin, a 12,000-acre town site was laid out and named Manhattan. Lots were 20 acres and square, surrounded by roads on all sides. The downtown section had normal size city lots. Buildings included a nondenominational church, schoolhouse, and free cemetery. William Astor built the Astor Hotel in 1878. It included a post office and Clyde Line steamship agency office. The town was renamed Astor in 1884.

We continued past the little down town and proceded to Lake Dexter and to the rest of the river. Here is a google view of the area.

View Larger Map

Here is the final sign of Astor as we enter Lake Dexter.

The winds began to pick up, and the little lake was choppy. We also started to see many more boats on the river who would make sure to go as fast as mechanically possible, blowing by us in a frenzy of wake and splashes.

Soon, we were back in the narrow portion of the river where the river had been straightened out to make it easy for barge traffic. But the old curvy parts, called "oxbows" are still there, deep water loaded with bass and brim, and the accompanying bass fishing boats. I could speed by at 7.5 knots and not really worry about the wake.

Oxbow near Deland

Here is a Trawler anchored in an Oxbow.

This is not me at the Helm

Halfway to Hontoon!

Some geek in a rented boat starts to follow us closely, so he can jump the wake and generally abuse the rental boat.

The Barco was now approaching the three and a half hours underway point, and we were rapidly approaching Deland. There was even a bridge to call and request an opening!

We slowed to three knots and dialed up channel nine on the VHF and asked the nice bridge tender for an opening. We then had to explain the spelling and meaning of the boat name (Boat Without Sail) and we motored away.

I had no idea how far we had to go, since the map chip on our GPS had run out at Palatka, and we were using a paper NOAA Chart, but not really using it by marking our position. I mean, this was such a fabulous day to be on the water, and depths were proving to be generously deep, so I didn't do a great job (ok, I only knew precisely where we were, not how far to go...) in having a precise plot.

What I am trying to say is that we were suddenly at our destination! I brought the boat to a slow stop and literally backed it into a terrific berth on the end of the "T-Head".

We were tied up in minutes, plugged into two 30-Amp power receptacles and I was walking up to the Ranger Office. Seventy five bucks later, I was back on the boat and beginning a great pounding of barley pops. What a perfect day!

Barco moored.

Stand by for further communications.