We have clearance, Clarence.

We are anchored in a familiar spot in Lake Worth (the lake, not the town), in Palm Beach, Florida (map). This is really the closest comfortable anchorage to the inlet, and after a long passage, close is what we want. I know I just uploaded yesterday's post (with some updates) this morning, and two in one day is unusual, but I also know lots of folks are watching to see that we made it back to the United States without issue.

Shortly after uploading that post, we crossed paths with a gaggle of cruise ships, all drifting slowly in Bahamian territorial waters of the strait. We passed Celebrity Edge fairly close aboard, within just a little over half a mile (close by open-water standards), and, with my AIS still off, I had to hail them on the radio to let them know we intended to pass astern. I set the radio to low power. We recognized the voice of the watchstander; she had been conversing with another ship early in the morning in an eastern European language.

We could also see visually and on AIS the Celebrity Summit and Celebrity Equinox, both ships we've seen before. The Edge is their swoopy new one and this is our first encounter. It was surreal seeing them all just drifting along aimlessly. We passed the Edge close enough that the lack of passengers milling around on deck and the normally ever-present music made it seem like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic movies. I suppose not far from the truth.

Not long after passing the ships, we also passed out of cell coverage and Bahamian waters, more or less simultaneously. I switched the AIS transponder back on, and set the destination to Palm Beach. I was a little disappointed that even a dozen miles offshore in the strait, we were getting almost no push from the gulf stream. This is in stark contrast to the knot or more of northward current we had even as we arrived at the Bimini entrance channel a month ago.


Celebrity Edge, eerily devoid of passengers. Note the reverse-rake bow.

That situation persisted all the way to mid-day, along with the very lumpy ride. Just getting lunch to the pilothouse was a challenge. But by early afternoon, our speed was picking up, and the seas were laying down. By 3pm it was downright comfortable, and when we finally hit the sweet spot of the stream, we had over three knots behind us and I steered to follow it as long as we could. Knowing how much to deviate from the rhumb line to take advantage of this kind of current is something of an art.

We had a good push all the way to the inlet, and at some point we realized we'd be arriving at the anchorage right at sunset, which for us lately has been dinner time. By the time we got anchored and cleared in, we'd be having a late dinner, and so we opted instead to eat under way before arriving at the inlet. By this time the seas were calm enough to prepare dinner and we enjoyed it at the pilothouse table.

I did have to jump up after my last bite to dodge a small fishing boat; as we got closer to the inlet things got a little busy. We played do-si-do with a medium freighter headed to the Bahamas and a pair of tugs right behind him coming out the inlet. We took quite a roll in the transition from the cross-current of the gulf stream to the rushing flood tide between the jetties, but otherwise made it to the anchorage uneventfully.


Not long after I switched the AIS back on, our friend John emailed me this screen shot. In case anyone wondered why we turned it off -- this is how easy it is to find us.

The anchorage is incredibly full, as many boats as I have ever seen here. Some number of them are boats that had staged to leave for the Abacos and never made it, and some number are folks who, like us, just bailed out of the Bahamas and landed here. All on top of the usual winter crowd. We found a small spot and squeezed in.

We cleared in with CBP Roam in just a few minutes, with no video conference required. I did have to keep canceling out of a pop-up warning me that recreational boating was not an "essential activity" during the pandemic. As if returning vessels have any choice in the matter.

While the sun had already set and we had already eaten dinner, we did enjoy cocktail hour on the aft deck after we were all settled. Even with so many boats, it's eerily quiet here; the nearby Sailfish Club is dark, and we hear no traffic noise, music, or the other various sounds we usually associate with this anchorage.

Tomorrow we will weigh anchor and continue north on the ICW. We're not sure where we're going, but we want to get out of densely populated SE Florida sooner rather than later, preferably without even going ashore.