On down the ditch…

Jupiter was a two week exploration in patience, a concept I (James) am not very good at. Never have been. I get it. I’ve been telling everyone I know that I’m not cold so I’m not in a hurry. But when the only thing standing between us and the Bahamas is a broken bridge and a treacherous bar-crossing I start to feel a little caged in. Caged I may have been but unmotivated we were not. We rebuilt the ground system for the wind generator. We primed and painted the hand rails! We dove on the bottom. We ordered UberEats. We added a coat of burgundy to the outer bulwarks and a coat of black to the cap-rails and watched a SpaceX Falcon Heavy launch. We dove on the bottom again and called the bridge tender by cell phone every single day, but what we didn’t do was go to the Bahamas via that broken-ass’d Donald Ross bridge. The closest all-weather inlet north of us was Fort Pierce, a 33 mile backtrack to a 45 mile offshore trip south against the Gulf Stream. Fuck that shit! Okay, second best is St Lucie Inlet, only 15 miles north and then south again the same distance before coming even with the anchorage we were becoming overly sensitized to. I mean, what’s up with the two halogen spotlights aiming from the McMansion down the empty dock to light up our forepeak while we’re trying to sleep? And the pleasing-to-the-eye stretch of palm and mangrove that was bounded on each end by some kind of villa-revival houses of ridiculous proportion. The non-stop procession of Stinkleys, Mainshits, and rental jet skis tossing us about in a no-wake zone were less entertaining than the tiki-boats (aka bars on the water) that eased on by while playing[…]

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