Day 2 (Saturday, Nov. 29) Hontoon Island to Astor (10:30 a.m. – 3 p.m.; about 20 miles)
Weather again perfect, with light following breeze and temps in the mid-70’s. This stretch of the river is particularly beautiful, with few homes and vast expanses of hardwood swamp along both shores. Several elbows in the river would be ideal for overnight anchorage.
Life aboard a small vessel like River Rat is austere and difficult by modern American standards. We have no running water, no television and I constantly bang my head on the low cabin ceiling. Despite these and other hardships, I find myself loving this experience as much as I did living aboard a larger vessel years ago. The semi-nomadic lifestyle of long-term cruising is perhaps as close as one may come in modern times to frontier life. Much of the safety and convenience we have come to expect as a birthright in modern times becomes much more dependent on individual responsibility. Do a poor job of anchoring or navigating and the result could be the loss of the ship. Fail to stock enough propane and dinner is likely to be cold. By the same token, people who live on the water are the most generous I have ever known. In a storm, total strangers will put themselves at risk to help protect another cruiser’s boat. A man we met at Hontoon, a cruiser from New England planning to winter in Sanford, asked another new acquaintance for two slices of bread to go with his evening meal. The answer was “sure” and said with a smile. I have known my shore-side neighbor for four years, and while she is a wonderful friend who would deny me nothing, I would feel weird asking her for food. On the water, it just isn’t a big deal.
Today is special for another reason. In a few days, my youngest daughter, Jessica, will turn 16. We had a small celebration at the dock before Vicki left to cover the later-aborted Shuttle landing, but I wanted to surprise her with a special dinner. We docked at the Blackwater Inn, just south of the drawbridge at SR 40 and enjoyed a feast of shrimp, fish and other goodies from the sea before retiring to the cabin for a restful night’s sleep. The sounds of cars crossing the metal grating of the bridge, muffled by the fiberglass walls of the boat, seemed almost peaceful despite the contrast with the otherwise peaceful night.
Weather again perfect, with light following breeze and temps in the mid-70’s. This stretch of the river is particularly beautiful, with few homes and vast expanses of hardwood swamp along both shores. Several elbows in the river would be ideal for overnight anchorage.
Life aboard a small vessel like River Rat is austere and difficult by modern American standards. We have no running water, no television and I constantly bang my head on the low cabin ceiling. Despite these and other hardships, I find myself loving this experience as much as I did living aboard a larger vessel years ago. The semi-nomadic lifestyle of long-term cruising is perhaps as close as one may come in modern times to frontier life. Much of the safety and convenience we have come to expect as a birthright in modern times becomes much more dependent on individual responsibility. Do a poor job of anchoring or navigating and the result could be the loss of the ship. Fail to stock enough propane and dinner is likely to be cold. By the same token, people who live on the water are the most generous I have ever known. In a storm, total strangers will put themselves at risk to help protect another cruiser’s boat. A man we met at Hontoon, a cruiser from New England planning to winter in Sanford, asked another new acquaintance for two slices of bread to go with his evening meal. The answer was “sure” and said with a smile. I have known my shore-side neighbor for four years, and while she is a wonderful friend who would deny me nothing, I would feel weird asking her for food. On the water, it just isn’t a big deal.
Today is special for another reason. In a few days, my youngest daughter, Jessica, will turn 16. We had a small celebration at the dock before Vicki left to cover the later-aborted Shuttle landing, but I wanted to surprise her with a special dinner. We docked at the Blackwater Inn, just south of the drawbridge at SR 40 and enjoyed a feast of shrimp, fish and other goodies from the sea before retiring to the cabin for a restful night’s sleep. The sounds of cars crossing the metal grating of the bridge, muffled by the fiberglass walls of the boat, seemed almost peaceful despite the contrast with the otherwise peaceful night.
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