TESTING THE WATERS
A former sailor buys a pocket trawler with a goal of cruising for longer periods with his partner.
A former sailor buys a pocket trawler with a goal of cruising for longer periods with his partner.
Despite growing up in landlocked Indiana, I have always been crazy about boats. As a teen, I cut my teeth on a wooden Sail sh and worked my way up to a 26-foot sloop, which I later sailed solo to Bermuda. Smartly relocating to Florida, I followed my sloop with a series of larger sailboats that I piloted from Maine to the Bahamas, and I raced a 36-footer extensively in South Florida before earning my captain’s license, which I used as a part-time captain of an 84-foot Burger. Now that I’m getting older, I have transitioned away from sailing and into powerboating—both for its ease of use and to appease my wife, Robin, who wants to spend more time on the water, but is most comfortable cruising at trawler speeds. (I sold our express cruiser rather quickly after Robin requested we slow down every time we got on plane.) Robin enjoys the stability of a larger vessel, but before we take the plunge in a major investment, I thought a trailerable pocket trawler might pique her interest in cruising for longer periods.
After some research, I found a 1984 Cape Dory 24 Trawler and made a deal. Although she looks more Down East than trawler, she earns the moniker via her displacement hull, full keel and slow-turning, 27-hp diesel. She is pokey and stable, and her roomy cockpit will allow us to bring our dogs along, a must for Robin. The trawler’s small, justenough accommodations include a V-berth, head and galley. We kept her name: Acadia.
I wanted to make sure Robin’s rst impression was a good one, so after I worked out some kinks on a lake, I decided to take on a more ambitious voyage on the St. Johns River. The Sunshine State’s longest river, the St. Johns ows 310 miles north from its headwaters near Vero Beach. Using charts and Claiborne Young’s Cruising Guide to Eastern Florida, I planned a 70-mile, two-day loop with enough points of interest to keep me occupied.
Leaving busy coastal Florida, I towed Acadia through the Ocala National Forest, mesmerized by the tall sandhill cranes I spotted along the way. By the time I arrived in
Astor, the sky was clouding over and I heard distant thunder. I got Acadia launched without trouble and headed upriver.
I was in no rush and didn’t have to battle a signi cant current, so I cruised at 5½ knots. The scenery was dierent from coastal Florida. Rope swings were more common than ostentatious mansions, and the preferred local craft was a camouaged aluminum ski rather than a loud, go-fast boat. After I cruised by Astor Landing, which includes an RV campground and a houseboat-laden marina, I had the river to myself with only jumping sh disturbing the smooth waters.
The clouds gave way to blue sky, and the bright sun intensi ed the natural beauty of the area, with the entire spectrum of green on display. Tall cypress trees with their buttresses and knees stood in contrast to the enormous leaves of the re-ag plants. Here and there was the occasional splash of red, a hint of autumn’s eventual arrival. As the sun came out, so did the turtles, sunning themselves on logs. I also saw a couple of alligators stealthing their way across the river, just their eyes and their wake showing. Birds thrive in this region. I spotted great blue herons, anhinga, black vultures, purple gallinule and white egrets.
The river itself was well marked, making navigation easy. There are numerous shallow dead ends that invite exploration. Acadia—with her 2-foot, 6-inch draft and protected running gear—was well suited. On one exploration, I was rewarded with tricolor and little blue heron.
The appearance of a couple of go-fast boats con rmed that I was nearing civilization again, with good timing, as I was starting to get hungry. I stopped just before the DeLand Bridge and joined the locals at the tiki bar for a midweek late lunch.
After lunch, I easily passed under the 15-foot bascule bridge bound for Hontoon Island State Park. Sadly, its expansive docks were all vacant, as the park is still recovering from ooding related to Hurricane Ian more than a year ago. I did meet a park ranger, who told me wildlife has been much more active, with about three times the sightings of deer and black bears. I was surprised to learn that two Florida panthers had been spotted as well. Following the ranger’s tips, I went on a 2-mile hike along the lowlands close to the river, amid the pine and palmetto atwoods. I headed back to the docks after spotting a small deer crashing through the underbrush.
Back on board, I kept going along the river, passing more
modest homes before skirting Lake Beresford, Blue Spring State Park and DeBary Park, where, at a bend in the river, a rusty seagoing tug stood sentry, strangely out of place. A great blue heron was perched high atop a piling, playing king of the hill despite no competition. After stopping for a quick pizza dinner in the city of Sanford, the head of navigation, I turned downstream.
I had planned to go a few more miles downstream and anchor near a gunkhole that I had explored on my way in, but with rapidly fading light, I chose the rst safe spot, which was in a cove o Lake Monroe Park between the bridges at the lake’s outlet. By the time I had the anchor down and the boat straightened up, it was dark. After a quick call home, I turned in.
A morning train woke me as it rattled and clanged across the bridge. After co ee, I launched the kayak and paddled ashore for a hike. I had bought the kayak specically for this trip, but it proved dicult to board and stow. This would be something I would have to gure out to get Robin to join me.
Back on the big boat, I returned the same way I had come. Just as I was starting to think the adventure and newness was absent when backtracking, a ock of turkeys appeared in a clearing. From there, it was a nice run up to Blue Spring State Park. Belted kingshers were in abundance, their fast ight interrupted to hover before diving into the water. I watched as an osprey dove for a sh, then launched itself back into the air, shaking o the water before heading for a distant tree, sh in talon. I was eventually abreast of Blu ton Park, which I had earmarked for a visit, but by this time, I was eager to get home.
After tying up to the dock at Astor, getting the boat out of the water and set for travel was easy. I had an uneventful drive home, and I tucked her away in her storage building after relling her tank with fresh diesel, having burned just over 5 gallons on my 70-mile adventure.
I was enthusiastic about sharing similar trips with Robin. Being a nature lover, she would enjoy the wildlife and scenery, especially when relieved of the stresses encountered under sail. I already have a list going of modications needed for the dogs’ comfort and safety—canine PFDs, a boarding ramp, a mat to cover the slippery teak cockpit decking, and a functional dinghy.
If I can keep the dogs comfortable, then Robin will be happy aboard too. After a few trips, I am hoping she will say those magic words: “We need a bigger boat.”