The sailor's highway Lindsay McRory November 9, 1995 So far, it seems we selected the right route along these protected waters of the Intercoastal Waterway, although we often think about going offshore to be in warm weather as soon as possible. We did not expect the weather to be nearly as cold. Nighttime temperatures have been in the low 30s. Darn cold. But along the Intercoastal, we've found another world. This passage dictates its own schedule. And the onus has been on us to adapt. It seems more like a water highway. All boats are going either north or south. Along the way, there are numerous mileage signs telling you how far you've come, or how far you have to go to get to other places. Mile 0 starts at Norfolk, Virginia and mile 1,095 is Miami. We are currently at mile 65 heading for Alligator River marina at mile 84. We have been watching a storm system building over the Midwest that is making tracks for us and is expected to arrive on Saturday. If so, we may end up spending a few days at Alligator River. It is now the tail end of the season for boats fleeing south, but we still see a half-dozen boats each day doing the same southbound legs as ourselves. Our days have started to follow a very repetitive schedule. 7 a.m. We quickly cast off from the marina or raise the hook as soon as possible. We listen for a updated weather forecast from NOAA. Breakfast and lunch are eaten en route. 9 a.m. Kita and Wesley are fed and dressed by now. Kita starts on her school programs for two or three hours. If the day's trip includes long stretches of open water, the auto pilot is set and I bring a laptop or a palm top computer on deck to get some work done. (I am writing this piece on my palm top while en route to Alligator River.) 1 p.m. Lunch. 2 to 3:30 p.m. By this time we are usually docked or anchored; it gets dusky around 3:30 and dark around 4:30. Unless you happen to have some good local information, it's not the place to be out after dark. Once docked we pick from a growing list of boat maintenance tasks that have to be performed. Kita and Wesley may go ashore or for a dinghy ride to burn off some energy. 6 p.m. Dinner time. The kids have one to one and a half hours on the computer. They pick from a dozen educational packages we have onboard. 7:30 p.m. Kita and Wesley are off to bed. I get started on some evening work. Denise reads. 10:30 p.m. Log on and do the e-mail thing. As the MSAT satellite is still not in service (Dec. 15 now), I have been relying on cellular links and some packet radio. Even with good cellular reception, the late hours are far better for data and fax communications. 11:30 p.m. Listen to tomorrow's weather forecast and the notice to mariners on the marine-band radio. Do a walk around the boat, check dock lines or anchor line, and make sure nothing's going to blow away should the wind pipe up. Check engine-fuel filters, oil level, and radiator fluid. We all hit the pit--no one has a hard time falling asleep. Via e-mail, I have gathered that my concrete-encased (and now snowbound) colleagues in Calgary and Toronto have this perception that we sit around all day in our shorts, drinking beer and tequila. I have to admit I have not done much to convince them otherwise. We are hoping it will be that way soon.