Just how far will you go for fun? We seem to be increasing the mileage with every experience, and this particular adventure took us from Chicago to Pompano Beach, Florida and points south via highway and waterway. This is the story of a dream fulfilled, and another bunch of ticks off the bucket list.
We rolled out of town immediately after work/school on Thursday night before Easter with the goal of Paducah, KY as our destination for the night. Our trusty Dodge truck had taken us to Wyoming and Quebec in the past nine months, among other trips, and now it would be faced with its biggest challenge, towing an empty 40 foot trailer down to Florida, and a trailer full of 10,000 lbs of boat back from Florida. Excitement was in the air, and the drive blew by. Before we knew it, we were 5-1/2 hours south and stopping for the night. Hindsight being 20-20, we probably should have put a few more hours on since we were feeling awake...
Friday morning, we were up and rolling by 7:30, and had a beautiful drive through Kentucky, into Tennessee, and finally into Georgia. We stopped for lunch about 60 miles north of Atlanta, GA, and upon resumption of our trek, promptly ran into massive amounts of traffic. Traffic is a pain in the butt, but if there's a reason for it...say...bad weather, construction, or a wreck...it is slightly more tolerable. Traffic just for the sake of traffic is damn near unbearable...and that's what we dealt with ALL day. I had been warned about how horrible Atlanta would be, but, in a great irony, the actual city of Atlanta was a breeze. In fact, we rolled right through downtown...didn't even take the bypass...discovering later on that anything over six wheels was illegal on said thoroughfare (we had 10 wheels...d'oh!). South of ATL, we got nailed again...and again....and again. Its not very easy to maneuver in traffic with 40 feet of trailer behind you, so we just had to suck it up and suffer. What was supposed to be a 13 hour day in the truck turned into a 16 hour day...we finally stopped in Fort Pierce, Florida at around midnight...with 1-1/2 hours to go to get to Pompano and a 7:30 am appointment at Active Thunder (keep in mind, this was Eastern Time...so it was an hour ahead for us. This was not a happy time for Michelle.) We slept for 5 hours and started driving again.
Saturday, the sun rose as I piloted our rig even further south. The anticipation and nervousness that I'd been putting off in lieu of concentrating on the task at hand began to grow in my gut, and my mind was racing with questions I had to remember to ask Pat at Active Thunder and trying to mentally catalog all of the things I would have to pack on the boat so I didn't forget anything, as we would be on the water for 5 days. We pulled up to AT to find the boat and Pat waiting for us, and were greeted with the happy news that we would not have to be dipping our new trailer in salt water at all, as we would just use the trailer the boat was currently on to take it to the ramp and pull it out later in the week. We spent the next 45 minutes or so loading our provisions into the boat, trying to ignore Pat's eyerolls when we loaded our road bikes...not exactly a commonplace practice in the world of offshore boating! Then, with a quick handshake and directions to the ramp, we were off to get wet.
I took my sweet time at the ramp, walking over to survey the ramp itself as well as the parking area, so I had my entire route planned out before execution...the smart thing to do with 40 feet of boat and trailer behind you. Also...its best to not look like an absolute idiot if you can avoid it. Well, I was successful on all counts...backed the trailer in, floated the boat, and tied it off on the wall, then went up and parked the truck and trailer (although, admittedly, it took me a while to line the rig up so I was only using one parking spot). So...I was feeling pretty good about myself when I jumped in the boat to fire it up and take off. I turned the keys and the motors roared to life, and, without hesitation, I put it in gear and we pushed off the wall. Well...task number one was to turn the boat around 180 degrees and head for the Intercoastal, so I put the port motor to forward, and the starboard motor in reverse. I was fighting a wind and a slight current, but suddenly, everything started feeling...wrong. A quick glance at the dashboard told me that the starboard motor had died. I was not prepared for this in the LEAST...especially considering the motors were fuel-injected and should NEVER die! So, I was faced with fighting a wind and current and turning a large (and unfamiliar) boat with one motor...and, no power steering (that pump is on the starboard motor, apparently). Yup. Full-on panic. Turned the wheel as hard as I could while trying to restart the motor, and it wouldn't fire. I had to reverse-lock the wheel and put the boat in reverse to get the bow to come around, and by this time, all I wanted to do was get the boat back on the wall. Michelle jumped on the bow, and managed to get on land, and I was able to get the boat close enough that she could pull me in. We tied it off, and I was immediately on the phone to Pat in a panic. Repeated attempts to start the motor would result in a sputter, but it wouldn't catch. Pat finally answered and came quickly over, and, after the quickest glance and turn of the key, proclaimed "You had me come over here for THIS?" Well...I felt relieved and stupid at the same time...and that degenerated to just feeling stupid when he pumped the throttle a couple times and the motor instantly lit. Turns out, you CAN flood an EFI engine if you do not let it warm up properly. Oops. Learn something new every day. Pat kicked us off the dock, and down the Intercoastal we went to the Sands Harbor Marina, where I successfully docked the boat. We then got some help from the locals tying off to compensate for the tides, and hit the accompanying hotel's restaurant, pool and BAR. Pina Coladas for me and Rum Runners for Michelle, replete with Bacardi 151 floaters. A walk across the street to a terrific restaurant for dinner capped an exciting day, and we went to bed EARLY.
I woke up early on Easter Sunday and went for a run on the beach, and upon my return, joined Michelle for a bike ride up Ocean Avenue to Deerfield Beach and back. We then loaded everything up, secured the bikes, and cast off for parts unknown. We decided to head south towards Ft Lauderdale, and, it being the weekend, the entire Intercoastal was a no wake zone. We were in no hurry, and there was PLENTY to look at in the form of massive houses and yachts for the 45 minute trip down. The only bit of excitement was getting pulled over by the Florida DNR because we didn't have numbers on the boat yet. I showed them my paperwork and they sent us on our way. We motored through Ft. Lauderdale in awe of the multitude of 100+ foot yachts...truly amazing.
We had decided that Miami Beach would be our destination for the evening, and, given that we had idled for nearly an hour and were getting a little restless, we decided to head out to open ocean. The wind had been blowing pretty good for the past couple days, and I knew the waves were going to be pretty big, but last November's trip in 8+ footers gave me the confidence that the boat would handle it with aplomb. As for myself....well...nothing like a challenge to get the ol' heart rate pumping. I told Michelle to grab a couple life jackets from below, and hooked the lanyard up to my shorts (kills the motors in case I go overboard). She said that this didn't exactly instill confidence. I said better safe than sorry, after all, this would be my first time really driving in the ocean, as Pat had handled the rough-water duties on our trip to Key West. Past the cruise ships and towards the ocean we went, and the waves began to grow. Our bow stabbed one and we got a nice face full of water...fortunately at low speed. As I progressed, and the wave height did the same, I noticed a rather large yacht bearing down on us from the open waters. When he was about 1/4 mile off our bow, it became apparent to me that he would NOT be slowing down. The yacht was every bit of 60 or 70 feet, and running 30 knots plus...you don't have to do the math to realize the size of the wake this thing was going to be tossing. I nailed the throttles in order to get on plane before we hit, and succeeded...barely. He roared by without a sideways glance, and we pounded through the 10 foot wake before turning our bow straight out to the ocean...and we began to launch. I throttled out right away, as I wanted to make sure the bikes weren't bashing against each other OR the upholstery. When Michelle confirmed that they were ok, I got back on plane and parallelled the shoreline, which meant the waves were hitting me broadside. I just drove in the troughs and rolled up and over the breaks, but in order to keep the boat from flying, I could only run 35-40 mph. It seemed like it took forever, but Government Cut finally appeared, signifying the end of our journey. We wrapped around the south end of Miami Beach, and into the Miami Beach Marina, where we grabbed our slip for the evening and tied off.
After a VERY busy morning, we decided it was time for a nice relaxing nap on the sunpad of the boat, which was rocking and rolling pretty good due to the winds and tide. I had just fallen asleep in the peaceful warm sun, when I heard a group of people walking down the dock. There were expressions of admiration for our boat, then an exclamation: "Hey....can I have a ride on your boat if I give you a ride on mine?" I picked my head up to see a group of 6 people, and said "Which boat is yours?" "The one on the end of the dock," replied a young-looking guy wearing a hat that said "Clubbing Isn't A Crime." "Come on over and have a drink!" My eyes bugged out with the realization that I was just invited to go on a 100+ foot boat. I looked at Michelle and said let's go. She declined, saying she'd rather take a nap. Oh well. I jumped below, grabbed a shirt, and went over to the big boat. Sean, the owner, was in his mid-40s. He told me he'd purchased the boat last fall in Europe and had it sailed over...and that he'd already been kicked out of this marina twice because he parties were too loud. He spoke with the voice and demeanor of a person that quite possibly had not slept in a few days...and was not about to slow down. He tossed me a beer, and I went to the aft lounge where the others were relaxing on the couches in the sun. Sean went off in search of music...from him and his friends, I learned that EVERYTHING in Miami Beach was about music. You had to have BEATS at all times. I asked what he did for a living and received the answer "Nothing." Must be nice! Sean reappeared, and beats were produced. It was like 2 or 3 in the afternoon on Easter Sunday in a marina...and the club music was bumpin. I began to feel...old. Lol. Suddenly...Sean was in my face. "DUDE! I am going to CHANGE YOUR LIFE!," he said. I was chilling on a couch with a beer, and replied that I kinda liked my life just the way it was. He laughed and said he had just gotten a text from a friend of his that was having a party at his house, and that it would be EPIC if we pulled up to the party in my boat. And...oh yeah...his friend was a BILLIONAIRE, with 5 100+ foot yachts, including a 200+footer he had just bought a couple weeks ago. "All this guy does," said Sean, "is party with topless 22-year-old models." He then whipped out his I-phone and produced pictures of just that....a row of topless chicks across the rear deck of a megayacht. My mind was begging for traction at this point...apparently I had just entered some parallel dimension where nothing matters but the PARTY...and I was definitely running in the slow lane. Was it time to shift gears? I looked down at my boat and saw Michelle sleeping in the sun and thought...how the HELL am I going to break this question to her? Well...I did...it went something like "Hey honey, we've just been invited to bring a millionaire playboy and his friends over to a party at a billionaire's house....wanna go?" Fortunately (or perhaps not?), our rational minds quickly took over and figured that this looked WAAAAAY too much like the opening scenes of a "Hangover" movie, and we begged out of the adventure. Thus ended our brush with the Miami Beach party scene. And we were ok with it. Lol. Instead, we walked over to the local bar, Monty's, and had an appetizer and a couple drinks, before coming back to the boat and realizing that it was still rocking and rolling like crazy...not exactly conducive to a nice night's sleep. Michelle jumped on Trip Advisor and booked us a room in Miami Beach for like $80. We drank a couple rum'n'cokes and took a nice walk, then loaded up a change of clothes and some more rum in a backpack, and took a drunken ride downtown Miami Beach to our hotel, where we partook in said rum, showered up, and walked the famous Lincoln Avenue mall, which, despite it being Easter Sunday....was JAMMED with people and really cool. After a long day, it was very nice to crash in a stable, air-conditioned room.
Monday morning, we got up and biked back to the marina to make sure the boat was alright, then headed back down to the Art Deco district for breakfast at one of the hotels. While we ate, a woman walked up the street with a large bag of volleyballs, and proceeded to one of the courts nearby. When we finished eating, we walked over to the beach, passing by the volleyball court. My jaw dropped when I realized who the woman was....Olympic gold medalist Keri Walsh! Nobody else seemed to even notice, but Michelle and I sat and watched her practice for a while, then went to the beach for a bit, and returned to watch her practice some more. Definitely a cool experience. Back at the boat, we decided to head over to our next destination, Coconut Grove. We would be navigating by sight and Iphone, as the screen on our GPS chartplotter seemed to be broken (no backlight, no matter what we tried), and, moving with extreme caution, we managed to successfully find the channel we were shooting for. Slightly before this, however, I had noticed the sky taking an ugly turn, and as we were idling into the marina area, raindrops began to fall. I aimed for the nearest empty dock...in this case, it was a fuel dock...and got tied up and began to cover the boat just as the heavier rain began to fall. Well...for the next two hours, it POURED. I was so glad we were not boating in it, the severe lightning, gusting winds, and pounding rain would have quickly eliminated our meager navigational skills. Anyway...we were dry, and we had cold beer, so we just had a couple brews and relaxed under the cover. When the storm broke, we called the municipal marina next door and got a slip, motored over, and then walked over to a beach bar/restaurant called Scotty's for some dinner. The place was kind of a dive, the food was just OK, but we later found out that its a musical hotspot, and that a few months before, Sir Paul McCartney had sat in with the band there! The rainstorm killed the wind that had been blowing since we arrived in the south, and we had a nice relaxing evening on the boat.
Tuesday, we decided to explore Coconut Grove via bike path, which was an adventure in itself, as the "bike path" had me wishing like crazy that I was on a mountain bike. It was CRAZY rough, and riding in the road was decidedly not an option, with ZERO shoulder and copious amounts of traffic. We survived a 20 or so mile ride regardless, and then packed the bikes into the boat once again for the journey to our next destination. We decided to attempt to run down to Key Largo to a bar called Gilberts, where we had stopped for lunch on our way down to Key West. It was to be a 50 or so mile run, and without the GPS, we'd be pretty much groping our way down the length of Biscayne Bay. The depth of Biscayne Bay is only about 10-12 feet, so, despite its enormity, things could go bad pretty quickly at high speed. We used the charts on our Iphones to the best of our ability, but in the middle of the Bay, we lost service. Somehow, we found the channel, and with it, the major navigational hazard between us and Gilberts...The Featherbeds, a section of coral reefs that you HAD to take the channel through, or else run aground. Our success was short-lived, however, as once we passed the Featherbeds, we could not locate the next channel marker! Rather than get lost somewhere in unfamiliar waters, we decided to just give up on the Gilberts endeavor, and head over to Key Biscayne and Crandon Marina. After another 1/2 hour or so of cruising, we found our way into the Marina and grabbed our slip for the night. As we were tying up, Michelle yelled "Oh my god, there's a dead manatee in the next slip!" I secured the boat and ran over...and sure enough, there was a HUGE manatee behind the boat next to us...only...it wasn't dead. It was enjoying the cool fresh water provided by the hose that somebody had left turned on and dangling in the water. We took a bunch of pictures, and named him Bill Zimmerman. Then it was off to a little private beach to enjoy some cool rum'n'cokes and wade in the beautiful blue waters...a nice way to spend an afternoon for certain. The marina only had "beach showers," which kinda meant showering with only three walls, but we took turns guarding the area and had no issues, lol. Dinner that night was to be at The Rusty Pelican, a short bike ride away on Virginia Key overlooking the Miami skyline at sunset. Michelle called and requested the best seat in the house, telling the staff it was important as it was our anniversary. The little ruse worked perfectly, and we had a spectacular view to compliment our spectacular dinner.
Wednesday was to be our last day on the water, and we were going to be running all the way back up to Pompano Beach on the ocean, which had calmed down over the last couple days, thankfully. In the morning, we jumped on the bikes and rode down the length of Key Biscayne to the state park, and checked out the lighthouse area that had been there since 1825, and had once been raided and burned by Seminole Indians. We then rode through an abandoned zoo teeming with peacocks and other wild birds, before turning north, riding across Virginia Key, and then up and over the massive causeway to the mainland, before turning around and heading back to the marina. From there, it was over to the gas dock to splash some go-go juice in as a precaution (didn't really know how far I had to go, or how many miles per gallon the new ride got!). In my haste, I dropped one of the gas caps into the water. Now...I REALLY don't like salt water, and I REALLY don't like swimming in the ocean (I am somewhat terrified of sharks and other bitey creatures that live there)...but, I manned-up, grabbed a mask, and dove down for the recovery. Seriously brave move there....Michelle was shocked. Lol. We fired up the motors and headed back north. The seas were pretty sloppy, about 1-3 foot with an occasional bigger set, and I ran the boat at 45-50 mph all the way back to the Hillsboro Inlet north of Pompano, where we ducked into the Intercoastal and idled back to the Sands Marina and the same slip we had last Saturday. Another afternoon of cocktails in the pool was followed by a short trip up the ICW to Two Georges restaurant in Deerfield Beach...its pretty cool going out to dinner by boat.
Thursday morning, we had an early appointment with the ramp, as I was going to need to get the boat over to Active Thunder to get it fitted on the new trailer. We had decided to spend that night at the Sands Hotel, so we lugged our gear up to our room on the 8th floor, then untied the boat and idled away. I had parked the truck and trailer last Saturday, and used the automated paybox to purchase 5 days of parking at $5 per day. I did this at 8:48am on Saturday, and here it was, 8:55 on Thursday as we came idling up to the ramp. Sure enough, there's a meter maid writing me a ticket! I tied up on the wall and ran across to her to plead my case...I was less than 10 minutes late after 5 days! Useless. Stupid cop. Oh well. We put the boat on the trailer with Pat's help, then Michelle rode back to spend some time on the beach as I straightened things up on the boat and in the truck, then Pat and his trusty sidekick Kenny used a gantry to pick the boat up off the old trailer, and slid the new one underneath. We reset the position of the bow stop, made sure it was sitting level, and it was done. I drove off to the Sands to chill out for a bit, Michelle came up from the beach, and we assumed our now customary rum'n'coke position down in the pool for the afternoon. By late afternoon, a HUGE storm was bearing down on us, which made for a pretty spectacular experience up on the 8th floor...I was VERY thankful the boat was safely tucked away inside the building at Active Thunder. We then met up with Jason Mozden, and old high school friend we hadn't seen in 20 years who lived down in the area, at a cool restaurant in Fort Lauderdale By the Sea. It was great catching up with him, and a perfect way to wrap up the Florida portion of our vacation.
We hit the road on Friday morning with the big boat behind us, looking to get up to Atlanta if possible. It was pretty nerve-wracking for the first 1/2 hour or so, getting used to how huge this boat was compared to our Fountain, but eventually, I got used to it, and really came to enjoy the increased braking power provided by electric-over-hydraulic disc brakes on every wheel. It towed like a dream. We made it as far as 60 miles south of Atlanta when traffic came to a halt, and we decided to call it a day.
Saturday, we blazed through Atlanta, and were making great time towards our intended destination of Franklin, TN to visit our friends Brian and Cindy Miller in their new home, when a 10 mile backup right at the border of Georgia and Tennessee tacked another hour onto the trip. I had been extremely nervous about the pass over the mountains at Monteagle, but my truck handled both the up and down with ease...I barely had to touch the brakes on the way down as the transmission and exhaust brake took all the hard work out of it. We were just getting to the point of REALLY being sick of being in the truck when we arrived in Franklin. It was absolutely awesome seeing the recently retired Mr. Miller and his lovely bride, and their hospitality was much appreciated. Brian even woke up early and reset the bow stop that had moved on some bigger bumps in the road (allowing the boat to move 3 inches forward on the trailer...yikes). After some sightseeing in Franklin and a wonderful lasagna dinner, it was off to bed.
ONE MORE DAY in the truck. Lol. Michelle had been talking before we left Pompano about how she couldn't wait to come back someday...all that was an afterthought by now....we just wanted to be home. Traffic around Louisville and just north of Indianapolis were the only things that slowed us down, and we arrived home safe and sound after another 8 hours of hauling. I don't even want to SEE the inside of that truck for a week!
So...there you have it. A detailed recap of the great adventure that was our spring break 2013. Hope you enjoyed the show in even the slightest, as we certainly enjoyed the experience. Every mile of it.
