Entertainment Abounds

Greetings to all of you in the frozen tundra to our north. We successfully outran the latest arctic blast and, as I write you, we are docked at the Delray Beach Yacht Club marina with temperatures rising into the 60’s today.

We finally left Titusville on the 19th and we’ve been easing our way into the opulence associated with south Florida ever since. (There’s only 100 miles between Titusville and Palm Beach, but they might as well be on different planets when it comes to the way people live.)

The weather was cool, but pleasant as we pulled out of the marina in Titusville. At least the wind wasn’t blowing as strongly as when we arrived so we easily exited our slip and made our way back out into the Indian River and the waterway. We cruised past our haunts of the previous few days, by the Kennedy Space Center with the majestic launch pads and BOV Building where the shuttles are assembled. We made our way an easy 36 miles and as we moved along, Merritt Island slowly shrank to its demise at Dragon Point off of our port bow.

John was particularly eager to anchor out, having been “cooped up” in a marina for five days. He researched “Skipper Bob’s” and determined that, if we were lucky, we could slip into an anchorage just south of the Eau Gallie Bridge right outside of Melborne. It was only big enough for two boats. When we came off the waterway up the marked channel into Eau Gallie, we passed by a park on our port side. People were out walking and some were fishing off the public docks as we made our way. Around the bend in the channel, the water widened into a beautiful little lagoon with homes dotted along the banks and two marinas quietly going about their business. No other boats were yet anchored, so we picked a spot and circled for the depth.

We had a little trouble getting the anchor to hold, supposedly there was grass on the bottom. So, John decided to drop the Bruce anchor because it was heavier. The lagoon was only 8 or 9 feet deep anyway, so most of our rode was going to be chain. And, John always slides a little ten-pound weight down the rode as well. That’s so the keel can turn freely at tide changes without catching the rode. With all of that on the bottom, Up Jinks wasn’t going anywhere.

We settled into an absolutely gorgeous afternoon. It was too pretty to stay below, so we stationed ourselves on opposite sides of the cockpit. John read his book and I worked on my knitting. I was just about totally relaxed when all of a sudden something hit the water right behind me. It sounded exactly like my big brother had just done one of his famous “cannonballs,” the kind he reserved just for me whenever we went swimming as kids and he wanted to make my life miserable. There was a subsequent splash of water onto the boat as well. I jerked around to see that a pelican had careened into the water no more than 10 feet off the boat. Within seconds, another hit the water, then another. It was like we were being bombed. They were totally oblivious to the boat. We were intruders in their sanctuary and there were fish to be caught. Now, I will never understand how a pelican can remain conscious when it hits the water. You would think the impact would knock it lulu. But, they just bob right up, swallow whatever it is they’ve snagged and act like nothing happened.

As the pelican shower was going on, John noticed a trail of movement surfacing across the lagoon and moving towards us. There would be a circle followed by another until a “v’ formed across the top of the water. He whispered to me to watch. Manatees were swimming just below the surface. Surely enough, in just a few minutes, they popped their heads up for just a second to take a breath. The larger one must have been the bull and his face looked like that of a Shar-Pei dog, all wrinkled up like an accordion. They, too, ignored the fact that we were there and submerged their huge, docile bodies underneath. We followed their path out the channel, around the park and back towards the Indian River.

As the sun began to set, all of the activity around us subtly came to a halt. The workday ended for the pelicans. The egrets, gulls and other birds that played a supporting role in the afternoon’s show found a piling on which to spend the night.

And, with each extinguished ray of the sun, the temperature dropped a degree. Until, by the time we had dinner and slipped into bed, it had become quite chilly. For me, a menopausal almost sixty-year old, chilly can be a good thing. So, I wasn’t too worried about the fact that we were anchored out with no source of electricity to provide heat for us. We’d just put some extra blankets on the bed, snuggle up if need be, and everything would be fine.

Well, I now know what it’s like to be in a meat locker! By the time morning rolled around, we literally could see every word we spoke as our warm breaths formed a mist across the frigid air. John requested a hot breakfast, not because he craved bacon and eggs. He just wanted to get some source of heat going in the salon.

We huddled over our coffee, gobbled down breakfast and then went into 78-speed as we changed from our bed clothes to something warmer. Why we didn’t do this in reverse, I don’t know.

We pulled up anchor around 8:30 that morning (the 20th) and made our way back out to the waterway on a very similar path to that of the manatees. The pelicans weren’t yet dive-bombing for food. Most of the other birds were still reposed on their nightstands. The sun was well up and retracting the chill from the air. Our day’s destination would be Vero Beach, another 36 miles down the waterway.

The temperature rose steadily as we cruised. We started shedding layers of jackets and sweaters. By the time we turned into Gifford Cut and headed towards the Vero Beach Municipal Marina, we were in teeshirts.

At Vero Beach Marina, you have the choice of docking or mooring. You may recall that I literally fell in love with mooring on our trip to Maine. It provides for an easy on/easy off way of securing your boat. So, we opted to moor. However, the Marina basin is such a popular place for cruisers, more likely than not, two or three boats have to raft together. Such was the case for us. We were instructed to locate mooring ball 25 and raft up to the sailing vessel “Brass Tacks.” As we slipped through the mooring field, I spotted “Brass Tacks.” It was a beautiful 40’ Beneteau Oceanis. Fortunately, her captain was on the boat. I hailed him from Up Jinks and he waved us around to his starboard side where he already had fenders lining the boat in anticipation of a rafting partner.

For the next two days, Fred was our next door neighbor. Fred illustrates an interesting point about cruising. You meet all kinds of people as you go from place to place. You trade sailing stories, information about good anchorages, tricks of the trade. And, you talk about your family and your home port. But, you never remember last names.

Fred and his wife, Cindy, were from Cleveland, Ohio. He retired in 1994 from the Cleveland police force. Cindy had just retired as a public school teacher. They were in Vero Beach for an extended period of time because their daughter, Heather, lived there with her husband and one-year old daughter. Heather is an “on-line” high school teacher for the state of Florida. Students can apply to take certain courses “on-line” for credit towards graduation. She monitors their progress and ultimately gives them the grade. We saw Fred everyday because he would come out to “Brass Tacks” and piddle. But, we never met Cindy because she was totally absorbed with being a grandmother. I tell you all of this to illustrate my point. We will always know all of these details about Fred and his family. But, unless we meet again, we will only be able to call him “Fred, you know the guy from ‘Brass Tacks.’”

Fred was a great purveyor of information about the Vero Beach area. So, we asked him where we might find a good place to eat. He told us that the closest place was about a quarter-mile dinghy ride south called the River Café. We showered and changed clothes, then hopped in the dinghy and motored the short distance. I learned two culinary tricks at the River Café. You can spice up a Caesar salad by adding some pimiento to it. And, the proper way to bring out the flavor in Key Lime Pie is to poke holes in the top of it with a fork, then squeeze fresh lime juice over it.

By the time we finished dinner, the sun had set which meant the air began to cool rapidly. We huddled down in the dinghy as we made our way back to Up Jinks. There was no way we were going to repeat our discomfort from the night before. So, we decided to take some extraordinary measures to combat the cold. I pulled out two extra blankets and laid them on top of the blankets and bedspread already on the bed. Then, I covered all of that with a duvet we weren’t using. As an additional precaution, I slipped on a pair of flannel pajamas. It all certainly worked – too well. I felt like I was sleeping under a ton of bricks. There was no kicking the covers off. They were too heavy. By the next morning, I was a pool of sweat in the bed.

It was now January 21 and once again we had a beautiful day that warmed up quickly. We needed to provision, so we caught the free trolley service at the marina and rode across the bridge to the mainland. You don’t often experience efficiency in public transportation, but the trolleys at Vero Beach were so efficient that we were back at the boat not much more than an hour later.

The afternoon was so pleasant, we decided to take the dinghy over to the dinghy dock and walk to the beach. We’ve learned that walking anywhere gives you a very personal perspective on places. It’s become one of our favorite things to do. So, we strolled through the park adjacent to the marina and then headed down Date Palm Road towards the Atlantic. The neighborhood was modest, but nice with folks working in their yards or walking their dogs. An archway of water oaks framed the street giving it an air of grace that only years-old trees can do.

After about four blocks, we came to highway A1A and turned south towards the business district. It was here that we began to see for the first time significant signs of the damage done by Hurricanes Frances and Jeanne this past fall. There had been indications along the waterway – a lot of houses getting new roofs and some demolished docks. But, we were totally unprepared for the incredible devastation that Vero Beach suffered during that one-two punch.

The first thing that we noticed was the boardwalk of the city park was closed. It had been completely severed from the land. Then, as we looked south along the beach, there were high rise buildings with entire facades ripped off, exposing interior walls. Windows were gone. One of the penthouses looked like it might have endured a fire.

The eerie part was that all of the buildings were completely empty. No signs of furniture or draperies or appliances. The drywall had been stripped away revealing the stud framework. There were construction crews walking around on scaffolding scooping up debris with shovels. We couldn’t imagine the impact these storms had on the people who lived in these places. Yet, up and down the beach, you could see cranes poised at even higher levels constructing even more such places as if in defiance of Mother Nature’s fury. This particular day was so beautiful that I could understand how you might be tempted to risk it all to live here.

We made our way back across A1A, stopped and bought some coffee, then headed back in the direction of the marina. Like I said earlier, when you’re on foot, you tend to see things that you might not otherwise notice. As we came to the major intersection right before the waterway, we noticed a marquee billboard advertising “Beehive – A 60’s Musical.” It went on to say “Now Showing at the Riverside Theater” and “A Must See, Don’t Dare Miss This Show.”

Now, we had never heard of “Beehive,” but then again, we had never heard of “Getting Away With Murder.” So, we decided we would check out the Riverside Theater and see how it compared to the Titusville Playhouse. It didn’t take long for us to find the theater. It was a very prominent building in the midst of a park that also housed a museum. We located the box office and bought tickets for the show that night at 8:00. This gave us plenty of time to get back to the boat, clean up and have a leisurely dinner.

I’m trying to remember from my long-ago English classes whether you would “compare” or “contrast” the Riverside Theater with the Emma Parrish Theater. If I say there is no comparison, then maybe what I need to do is offer some contrasts. Where the Emma Parrish Theater was totally wanting in all aspects of equipment, sets, lighting, seating and a roof, the Riverside Theater lacked for nothing. Where the Titusville Playhouse assembled everyday, ordinary citizens to act out its scripts, the Riverside Theater auditioned some of the finest talent in New York and hired them to perform its offerings. Just about the only thing that Emma Parrish had on the Riverside was refreshments. You could actually buy a beer or glass of wine at Emma Parrish. The best you could get at Riverside was a swig of water from the water fountain.

But, be that as it may, what we experienced at Riverside was one of those occasions where you ache for people to be with you. “Beehive” (as in the hairdo) is a montage of songs from the 60’s. It focuses on female artists who impacted the decade and, by strategically arranging the songs, shows how the music changed in concert with the political struggles of those volatile ten years. Six vocalists take you through this nostalgic time as they portray a group of girlfriends who start out as 13-year olds at slumber parties listening to such tunes of innocence as “The Name Game” and “My Boyfriend’s Back” and “It’s My Party.” As they grow and are impacted by the events of history such as Kennedy’s assassination, the Viet Nam war and the Civil Rights Movement, the music likewise takes on a harder edge or more discerning look at things.

The six ladies who performed “Beehive” for us were incredibly talented. And, yes, we ached for our own daughters to be with me when Marya Grandy and Denise Summerford sang “Natural Woman” and “Do Right Woman.” And we ached for our friend Mert Hatfield when Christina Bianco sang Janis Joplin’s “Try Just a Little Bit Harder.” And, I ached for my brother Gene as Dana Dawson sang “Proud Mary.” And, we both ached for John’s cousins, Sid and Taz, during the whole show. If you EVER get the chance to see “Beehive,” do it.

We left Vero Beach the next morning. Fred wasn’t on “Brass Tacks” when we broke the raft, so we didn’t get to tell him “bye.” It was another beautiful morning and we made our way down the waterway some 48 miles to an anchorage in Hobe Sound. We were trying to stay ahead of the latest arctic blast coming across the country. Hobe Sound was just north of Palm Beach and the houses along the shoreline definitely reflected that we were entering another world. The ones along the sound were older and had beautifully landscaped yards. They had an air of elegance that made them charming even though they were huge. But, as we moved towards Palm Beach, some of the newer ones seemed to me to be garish in their expanse and ornate ness. One of the mansions that we passed looked to be about 15,000 square feet – all under a THATCHED roof. There were pools with fountains and statues. One house even had the statues twirling. My, oh my, Dorothy. You’re not in Titusville anymore!

We came into Delray Beach on January 23. The distance we traveled from Hobe Sound was only 38 miles, but it took us forever because we had to negotiate 14 bridges in that stretch. As we approached Delray, the waterway took on the look of a canal and the bridges were closer together. They had names like the Lake Avenue Bridge or the Lantana Bridge or the Ocean Avenue Bridge. One of the last bridges that we came to was the “George Bush” bridge and according to the cruising guides, it “opens on demand.” I could hardly wait to get to get to this bridge. I was really looking forward to telling George Bush what to do!

We docked at the Delray Beach Yacht Club which is a very nice marina just south of the Atlantic Ave. Bridge. Our time here has been leisurely. There was an arts festival along Atlantic Ave. and we strolled by booth after booth of pottery, painting, sculpture and jewelry. Some of it was to our taste, but most of it pretty outlandish and expensive.

We inquired about a good place to eat and one of the merchants in a dress shop recommended Old Calypso. After going back to Up Jinks to get our jackets, we walked the couple of blocks to the restaurant and had a wonderful meal. John ordered the special for the night – blackened salmon with avocado and mango sauce. I had the Grouper Almondine. Both of us thought we had out-ordered the other!

It’s Sunday morning as I write you. Today is laundry and journal day for me. John has gone for a walk on the beach to take some pictures. Everyday should be this beautiful!