Mai Thai Wanderings: August 2025

After nearly 25 years of cruising and living aboard our boat, our logbook is pack with memories. Some come rushing back with the sight of boats at anchor or a glowing sunset. In our last post, we shared a few of those treasured experiences. Here’s another that still brings a smile and reminds us just how grateful we are for this life afloat.

Manatees and Sunsets at Marathon Key, Florida

One February, we docked at Marathon Marina, just before the iconic Seven Mile Bridge. While it doesn't have the buzz of Key West, Marathon has its own quiet charm — great restaurants, reliable boatyards, and a friendly, laid-back cruising community. Many cruisers stop here, waiting for a good weather window to cross to the Bahamas or Central America. It's also an easy hop to Key West and nearby islands.

During our stay, we tackled a few boat projects: added a second anchor and installed a Weaver davit system for the dinghy. But what we remember most from that stop are the sunsets… and the manatees.

Each evening, rain or shine, cruisers gathered on the docks with drinks in hand to watch the sky erupt in brilliant oranges, pinks, and purples. It wasn’t just a sunset — it was a shared ritual that brought everyone together.

And then there were the manatees.

One afternoon, while doing dishes, we felt a gentle bump against the hull. Curious, we stepped outside and spotted a manatee sipping from our sink drain! After that, we’d leave the water running just a bit — and sure enough, they’d return for another drink. Watching these peaceful giants float beside our boat was pure joy.

It’s these small, unexpected moments — the quiet rituals and wild encounters — that make life on the water unforgettable.

Stormy Skies Over Yorktown, Virginia

While docked at Tidewater Yacht Marina in Portsmouth, we met new sailing friends aboard Kalaha and cruised together up the York River to historic Yorktown. We anchored near the bridge and took our dinghies ashore to explore the battlefield.

The day started out sunny and calm—but by afternoon, a storm was rolling in fast. Waves were already building as we scrambled to relaunch the dinghy. Battling the wind and chop, we pushed off the beach with all our strength. We made it back, drenched —along with our brand-new cell phone, which had been tucked in one of our pockets.

Back aboard, the wind picked up quickly. Just to be safe, the captain let out all 250 feet of anchor line. Thanks to that extra scope, we rode out the storm safely and comfortably. Later, Kalaha radioed to report they had clocked the wind speed at 43 knots (47.3 mph). Wild!

When in doubt, let out more scope.

Mai Thai, anchored near the bridge, rode out the storm safely

Sweet Surprise at Shackleford Banks, Beaufort, N. Carolina

Visiting Cape Lookout had long been on our boating bucket list—but the weather had other plans. After a bumpy night at anchor, we decided to skip the lighthouse tour and head back toward Beaufort in search of calmer waters.

After we cleared the Beaufort Inlet, we started scouting for a safe place to drop the hook. That’s when we discovered Shackleford Banks—apparently a favorite with local boaters. Small boats dotted the shoreline, beached in the soft sand. We found a peaceful spot away from the crowd, dropped anchor, and settled in.

Mai Thai (far back, left) joining in the fun

Gorgeous sunset at Shackleford Banks

The rest of the day was spent people-watching and exploring. As the tide receded, sand patches appeared like little islands. We dinghied over and found several beautiful shells (whelks) — though we chose just one, as a special keepsake to mark our anniversary. The next morning brought an even sweeter surprise: a group of wild horses strolling along the beach, passing a grounded boat like it was part of the scenery. We watched in awe from the cockpit, sipping our coffee.

What began as a detour turned into one of our favorite boating memories. And sometimes the best moments are the ones you never planned.

Dolphins at Hilton Head, South Carolina

One April, we stopped at Hilton Head and anchored in peaceful Shelter Cove. Kayakers drifted by throughout the day, and the calm surroundings gave us the perfect few days of rest.

Then one evening, just before sunset, we heard a loud splash.

We rushed outside to see what it was—and to our delight, a pod of dolphins had arrived. They were swimming close to shore, herding a school of fish into the shallows. We stood there, completely mesmerized, watching them stir the water as they worked together to feed.

It felt like a front-row seat to nature’s private show—no ticket required. Ain’t that nice?

Roaches at Daytona Beach, Florida

When hurricane season rolled around, we needed a safe harbor to hunker down —and Daytona Beach fit the bill. We ended up staying there for about three months. We rarely ventured outside after dark. That changed one evening when we were invited to a potluck dinner at the marina lounge. As always, these gatherings were a great way to meet new cruising friends and swap tips on places to eat and explore. The evening was full of laughter, stories, and good food. We would run into these cruisers again and again as we navigated up and down the Eastern seaboard.

Potluck at the boaters' lounge

But the real story started after the potluck. Walking back along the wooden dock in the dark, we heard something strange: a crunch with every step. We slowed down and glanced at our feet.

Roaches. Dozens of them. Everywhere. It was, without question, the grossest thing we’ve ever experienced on a dock. We practically tiptoed the rest of the way, trying not to think about it.

Back on the boat, our unease turned into paranoia: Could they climb aboard? We didn't see any. But just as we were settling into bed, I spotted something moving across the floor. I let out a scream so loud my husband called it a "Memorex moment." The roach froze. I didn’t. I sent him straight to Walmart—at midnight—for bug spray and a bomb.

The next morning, we took the boat across the Halifax River, anchored out, set off the bug bomb, dinghied ashore and spent the entire day outside. They had used the dock lines to get aboard, so we treated them with bug spray.

Let’s just say, it’s one cruising memory we’ll never forget—and we will stay away from wooden docks, if we can help it.

Dragging Anchor at Cocoa Beach, Florida

We have a simple rule when anchoring: once the hook is set, we stay aboard for at least 30 minutes to make sure it’s holding. It’s a simple precaution we abided by.

But not this day.

After several days on the move, we dropped anchor near Cocoa Beach. As we went through our usual anchoring routine, we noticed a lot happening on shore—music, people, a lively, beach-town buzz. It looked too fun to miss… so we broke our rule.

We left Mai Thai and went ashore to explore. And it was worth it—Cocoa Beach was charming and full of energy. After a couple of hours, we were ready to go back to the boat.

Cocoa Beach anchorage

When we glanced back at the anchorage, Mai Thai was in a different spot. She’d dragged, and was dangerously close to other boats. Adrenaline kicked in. We ran, jumped in the dinghy, fired it up and raced back to the boat. One of us tied off the dinghy, the other climbed aboard, unlocked the door and started the engines. We got the boat moved and reset anchor just in time.

Lesson learned: never break your anchoring rules. They exist for a reason.

Sailing Zebulon – Newport, R.I. to Solomons, Md

While cruising the Chesapeake Bay the summer of 2001, we got a call from new sailing friends who needed an extra hand moving their 47' Catalina, Zebulon, from Newport, Rhode Island to Solomons, Maryland. We jumped at the chance—Newport is one of our favorite ports, and we had planned to spend the summer there. That’s why Mai Thai carries Newport as her hailing port.
The five-day trip was cold, fast, and unforgettable.
One of the most memorable moments came as we navigated the East River through New York City. We hit the current just right at Hell Gate, and Zebulon surged to 12.4 knots—a record for her. We were the only pleasure boat in sight, the river ahead wide open, and the view of FDR Drive—bumper-to-bumper with cars—felt surreal from the water.
Just before sunset, we reached the city. The Manhattan skyline, aglow in golden light, and the Statue of Liberty silhouetted against the horizon—it was breathtaking. We were busy snapping photos when a small Coast Guard patrol boat appeared, lights flashing.
We’d unknowingly entered a secured harbor—closed to recreational vessels from sunset to sunrise due to post-9/11 restrictions. Thankfully, we were near the Verrazzano Bridge, and after explaining, they allowed us to continue.
It was a powerful reminder that boating brings freedom, beauty, and plenty of surprises.
Exploring the South: Fun, Friends, and Finally Moving On

We spent 18 years tied up just outside Chattanooga, Tennessee—specifically in a rural town called Guild (population: around 500, last we checked). It might seem like an unlikely place to stay so long, and no, it wasn’t because of the marina—which, truth be told, was the worst marina we’ve ever stayed at.

What kept us there was everything around it: the beautiful stretch of the Tennessee River known as Nickajack Lake, the surrounding mountains, and the easy drive to the tri-cities of Atlanta, Chattanooga and Nashville. But most of all, it was the people—the warm, tight-knit community of boaters who made those early years unforgettable.

That first decade was a blast—filled with laughter, potlucks, impromptu dock parties, and a floating neighborhood full of good friends. But like all things, it changed. Over time, many moved on, sold their boats, or relocated to better marinas. Slowly, the community we loved began to fade.

We miss those days and the people who made them special. But we’re incredibly grateful for the memories—and even more glad to finally be outtathere.

Our legendary potluck dinners and parties, thanks to Glenda and Steve

Dockside vows, fishing tales, Fort Pierce, Florida

We spent a couple of months at Fort Pierce City Marina, just a short drive from our friend’s condo. The marina sits near the Fort Pierce Inlet, where strong currents sweep through, bringing with them a variety of marine life... including sharks!

Fishing is a big deal here. Local tournaments are common, and plenty of nearby restaurants will even cook your catch for you. On any given day, you can spot sheepshead and other fish swimming alongside the boat, making it feel like you’re docked in your own private aquarium.

Our neighbor reeled this one.

During our stay, we met all sorts of interesting people—including John Houghtaling, the inventor of Magic Fingers (yes, the famous vibrating motel beds). He was living aboard Magic Fingers, his Bluewater yacht.