I've published this pair of posts - a journal really - to document a recent trip on the Suwannee River. This is unlike all my earlier blog posts in that it is NOT primarily a photoblog (plus it is way longer). The intended audience is a few friends and family members. Plus I've included a lot of details for folks who happen upon it while  planning their own long paddling/camping trek on this iconic river.  But it is available to anyone who stumbles upon it. Enjoy! THE LINK FOR PART 2 IS AT THE END OF THIS PART 1.

David                    Dave                                Jacques                               Steve                                               

For a year, four of us, Jacques Depart, Dave Johnson, Steve Mills, and I had been planning to spend the first two weeks of November 2025 paddling the full length of the Suwannee River - from the Okeefenokee Swamp in Georgia to the Gulf of Mexico. Many factors figured in to whether we'd be able to actually pull it off. Jacques's bilateral knee surgeries, timing of Dave's closing/moving to a new home, Steve's nervousness about the long break in his work and grandparent duties, and my daughter, Lumin, dying in NY from a glioblastoma. In the end, it was the river itself that thwarted our plan. We were in a severe drought. We hadn't had the usual summer storms and hurricanes that dump tons of rain. The river was reaching record low water levels. That made the uppermost parts of the river unpaddleable, a mighty river down to a trickle from the swamp. Steve was staying in touch with Willie at the SOTS Canoe Outpost about conditions. We met two weeks ahead of our trip and all four of us committed to doing the trip anyway, starting as high on the river as possible.

That required a mental adjustment for each of us, letting go of the bucket-list-worthy accomplishment of the WHOLE river, for just a portion, albeit still 180 miles of it! Little did we know of the adventure awaiting us (especially due to the low water), of the trials and dangers, the thrills and disappointments, the sheer joy of daily rhythmic pedaling while watching our beloved river glide by. It wasn't going to be just a prolonged version of our 25 year history of annual long-weekend river camping trips (as I'd vaguely envisioned). Each day of the trip, I scratched out quick notes. Here they are, fleshed-out, sort of a hit-and-miss blow-by blow as I perceived and remembered it.  The added photos are all snapshots made with our iPhones (not fancy portfolio images).

Monday 11/3/25.  7 miles from Blue Sink Launch (milepost (MP) 163) to an anticipated sandbar camp.

LOW River at Suwannee Blue Sink Lauch

We launched at Blue Sink Canoe Launch, a strange long ramp and stairs narrowly switchbacking down from the parking lot through a canyon of oversized concrete block walls, (not quite wide enough for kayaks to go around the bends!!) At the bottom, the wide riverbed of rock and sand sprawled before us, dry, except for a small channel along the far bank. So surreal to see this mighty river so empty. 
 

We shoved off at 2:30 pm after eating half our sub sandwiches Jacques had picked up at 7 AM, our boats carefully packed. Willie had shuttled our 2 drivers back from SOTS Canoe Outpost in Live Oak. We paddled past Woods Ferry River Camp, not stopping for water or a look. (Kind of wish we had.) Dave, Jacques, and I were in Hobie kayaks with pedal drives, pedaling - paddling with our legs instead of our arms. We pedalers had to zigzag carefully downstream seeking the deeper channels, switching to our paddles when we got into shallows. There were shallow sand shoals the whole way for the next few days (adding miles, and slowing our pace). We traveled 2-2.5 river mph, with the river accounting for an estimated 1 mph of that.

Traveling the river via Google Maps in the weeks ahead of the trip was so helpful.
 

We camped at this nice sand bar @ MP156.5 and felt we'd made a good first day test run. It had been a warm cloudless day, with that night dropping to around 40 degrees. Dave had made some fire starters with lint, wax and egg cartons. Good thing because there were no palmettos (great natural starter) to be seen. The lint wax worked great, and became our go-to firestarters the whole trip. "Power of Lint"! Light was fading as we set up camp. I was disappointed to have so little daylight to prepare dinner. 
 

That very first night, sitting down at the fire for the first time Steve’s trusty camp chair collapsed, one leg broken. He sat down too hard with the chair on uneven sand. Tossing the dead chair aside, Steve was resigned to sit on the cold ground for many days. He groused and took a bit of teasing. After awhile I put on my Macgyver hat and took a closer look at his chair. I found it was a relatively easy repair resulting in an almost-good-as-new chair, only slightly cockeyed. The chair served him well the rest of the trip.

The Suwannee Limerock walls along much the upper half of the river are spectacular.

Tuesday 11/4/25. 15 miles to Holton Creek River Camp beach.

Slow pack-up our first morning. Still getting our organizational systems down. Plus we enjoyed a long slow coffee and breakfast by the fire.

We got on the river at 10:30 and paddled 15 miles (double yesterday), still dodging sand shoals much of the way. Along the way, we passed Suwannee Springs, the 129 bridge, SOTS (stopped briefly at our cars), and the FL Sheriffs Boys Ranch property, all familiar landmarks. Finally stopped at Holton Creek River Camp expectantly, but found it closed, overgrown, no water or power. Steve proposed paddling on to our old "Taj" sandbar (2.5 more miles), but we voted to stay at the HCRC beach and ramp. The daylight was fading and we were exhausted. It turned out, the River Camp decking provided tent sites and cooking platforms, level and firm. Steve stayed in first screen house at the top of ramp. He had a surprise encounter with two FL Trail hikers who came through well after dark. Where the rest of us would have curled up quietly at the sight of lights bobbing toward us in the nearby woods, hoping not to be noticed, Steve went after them (after scaring them with his own light), met and talked with the night hikers. 

Morning view from my tent perched on a deck landing.

It had been another cloudless day (and our 2nd night night was about 50 degrees). We had a nice beach fire and enjoyed the evening.

We were much refreshed in the morning and very close to our boats so packing up was easier. I found some beautiful sculptural river rocks strewn at the upstream end of our sandbar. I made some photos. And saw the one sturgeon jump from the river. A good omen?

Suwanee River Limerock is unforgivingly sharp

Wednesday 11/5/25. 19 miles to Suwannee River State Park.

Me, in my 12 foot Hobie, kindly lent me by Dave's wife, Corine. I rigged an umbrella stand, though it turned out better to hold it.

Arriving at the Suwannee River State Park boat ramp as our planned stop, we found it a dismal campsite. No amenities, no fire option. Water was 1/4 mile away and no bathrooms nearby. We couldn't find a ranger etc. We had passed old Taj, Alapaha Rise, 249 bridge, and Gibson Park. We were very near the Withlacoochee R confluence where there was a known campsite, high on the bluff, so back into our boats. But that site was occupied. Jacques and I paddled downstream a mile and found nothing. I recalled an old site I camped in 20 yr ago that was within a mile upstream of the boat ramp. (This was confirmed by the bluff campers) so we all paddled back upstream looking and looking. 2 miles up and nothing. Losing daylight, we returned to SRSP ramp after 5 pm, having added at least 5 more miles of paddling. Exhausted and discouraged, we all skipped dinner and went to bed early, stealth camping in the parking areas and ramp zone. Night low 55.
 

How was I faring 3 days in? My down bag was too hot even as a loose cover on these warmer nights. I needed to figure out other options. Sleeping was fair so far... Lots of wake ups but >8hr in bed. Low back pain (muscle tension and spasms) on and off during river time. Exploring cushioning and position options. Happy with knees and legs - holding up well. A little rubbed sore spot on inside of R foot. A worry. It had been another solid sun hot day. The tops of my legs got mildly sunburned, though I was using my umbrella as shade, hat, long sleeves, etc. No good. Total body cover needed for rest of trip including long pants and socks, along with umbrella shade. Great to be able to use brella with my right hand (pointing it at sun which moved all around as the river wound in every direction) while steering with left hand and "paddling" with my feet. It was also hard to stay hydrated as thirst is not a strong sense and I generally forget to drink, but I was getting better at frequent water breaks (as well as peeing in a bottle while pedaling along).

Thursday 11/6/25. 14 miles to Dowling Park River Camp.

We got onto the river by 8:30! Earliest start of the whole trip. We came to two sets of rocky shoals just before I-10 (within an hour of leaving camp). The first was short with a fairly clear path. I went through, then Dave without mishap. Jacques followed, passing through the "V" smoothly. Thinking he made it, he let the flow carry him and got sucked in a big eddy which spun his bow hard right. He was dumped over downstream. He was able to stand and right his boat. Luckily a sandy bottom. He thought all was ok until he realized he'd lost his pedal drive. Bad news! I paddled back up, tied my boat to a snag and together we searched. Luck had it that I found it, dark against the light sand in thigh-deep water. Back in business. We 3 concluded that we needed to tie our pedal drives into our boats whenever we detached them for shoalwater. (Steve was still upstream, having lingered at our starting point, since he is much faster in his sleek paddle kayak.)

A short distance later the three of us came to another, bigger broader shoal with multiple sections of whitewater and rocks. I chose a large V in midriver that looked promising and ran it. I paddled hard right against the flow to dodge a snag sticking barely above the surface.  I still bumped it but moved on downstream. Dave had seen and heard me bump the snag, so he was wary of it and paddled through smoothly. Jacques, still rattled from his previous dump, entered the V with trepidation. He hadn't seen the snag and his bow got sucked into the trap, caught by the snag. He capsized downstream again, but this time, his boat hung against the snag and other underwater limbs, pinned firmly by the fiercest current of the whole shoal. The water was cold - probably about 66 degrees. Jacques saw his paddle floating, grabbed it and headed for a nearby rocky island.

Jacques's boat is pinned against underwater tree by fierce currents. 

These river rocks aren't just smooth limestone. They are jagged, super sharp and slippery with infectious slime. What's more, these small rock "islands" (islands only in this very low water), have been undercut by the severe current over the decades. So, what looks like an easy climb out, is actually treacherous and very difficult. Jacques got out, but gashed his left leg badly in the process. He threw his paddle to me on shore, then saw a big red bag floating by (his sleeping bag) and leapt back into the water to chase it down. Right about then, Steve came from upriver and saw Jacques leap into the river. At first he thought we were taking a play break, but then he saw the capsized boat trapped in the mid-river channel. Steve checked out channels on the right side of the river, found a safer passage and ran it without difficulty. He brought his boat around to the left bank (where we were) and pulled into a gap in the rocks.

Jacques got to shore with his red bag, not far downstream from his imperiled boat. Stuff was coming loose from J's boat, so Dave was out there intercepting all the flotsam. I followed Jacques upriver along the shore, trying to formulate a plan. Jacques had seen his boat trapped and could imagine only ONE plan to do ASAP... rescue his boat. So he had already found a walking stick and was wading into the shin-deep water upstream. Shallow as it was, it was very difficult to walk due to the intense flow. Jacques came to a deep fast trench between him and the rocky island that led near his boat. He struggled across, though as I waded and watched from 20 yards back, I saw that it took all his will and strength to do it. When I got closer and he was climbing up, he said "don't go this way. It was really difficult." I reached another point where I was about 6 feet from the island. I was leaning hard on my stick just to hold my position, with no idea how to get across the deep racing trench before me. Meanwhile, Steve had also picked up a stick, more like a tree (stout and about 7 or 8 ft long) and was wading along the same path. We were so close, and yet. Then I saw a cup-like hole in the rocks across the trench and pictured Steve's stick jammed into it with me leaning hard on the other end, creating a rail for crossing. A stable lifeline? Steve tested it, holding tight, and on about his third step into the deep races, he was swept off his feet, but clung hard to the "rail". He swung his feet to the rocks and found a purchase over there. Whew.  I knew I was still stuck, and more wary than ever of the crossing. Jacques was out as far as he could get on the tree snag, but still a good four feet from his boat. Steve opted to wade along the right side of the island, perhaps nearer or less sharp? And then I saw him drop in deep up to his neck, and knew he no longer had footing on anything. He was moving fast toward Jacques's boat. Then, just before he reached it, I saw him very suddenly go down, hat and all... and he was gone. Seconds passed, long enough for my heart to sink. And then, he popped back up on the far side of the boat, where he and Jacques managed to grasp each other and Jacques pulled him up. Steve said he was just as surprised when he got sucked under, and that he'd been briefly hung up on the same limbs holding Jacques's boat. He had flashes of his death and...., and then his leg came unstuck and he was popped back to the surface. Wow, what a relief I felt when I saw him reappear. I can't imagine how he felt.

So, there we were, the two of them out there and I could neither hear nor talk to them over the roar. I decided I'd be more useful in my boat downstream, so I began making my way back to shore. Once there, I saw Jacques leap across the narrow raging channel onto his boat's starboard upturned rail and grab fast to the handle there. Insane stunt, I thought. But like Jacques, I thought that might just release his boat. It didn't. Jacques clung to his boat for a long time, probably not a full hour, but it sure felt like it. He'd just been through a traumatic accident, had a bad bleeding cut, was exhausted from the challenging efforts already undertaken, was hypothermic, probably numb and stiff... I was worried. But I remembered Jacques telling me weeks earlier, that his M.O. has always been to take action as soon as a problem presents itself. He hates to suffer from worry or uncertainty about things unfinished. So this progression of actions was simply Jacques being Jacques. With his free (stiff and numb) hand, Jacques began trying things. Could he move the snag? Break off anything? Move the boat fore or aft? He did succeed in shifting the boat's position a bit. He also began untying things.

Meanwhile I got back into my boat and tried to paddle hard upstream. I could make it up to within 30 yards from J's boat, but no closer. I just couldn't keep my bow pointed into the strong current, and once deviated a bit, I'd swing wildly off course. Clearly this could capsize me, so I gave up. I was wishing we had all put on our life vests. None of us had. And I was fantasizing about a plan where we had run a long line down the river from above Jacques's boat, tied it to the bow of an emptied boat with paddler, and then pulled him up to Jacques' boat. From there a line could be attached and tugged in any number of directions, my mind whirring... Just then, Jacques sprung his boat free. He had just untied the last bag, his white foredeck bag, and whoosh, he was floating downstream with his swamped boat, looking bewildered. I intercepted him in calmer water and moved to a sturdy snag where J climbed onto the limb, panting, out of breath and freezing cold. I tied his boat to my stern, and once Jacques was able to focus, told him to lie across the bow of my boat. I paddled slowly to shore to the receiving arms of Dave and Steve. Jacques was pale, had bluish lips, and chattering teeth. They changed him into dry warm clothes and wrapped him. The sunshine was full of warmth by then. Dave got a hot drink in him. Jacques's leg was still bleeding profusely. Getting my first close look, I saw a deep ragged gash that was definitely going to need assessment in an ER, stitches, antibiotics, and pain meds. Then rest and elevation. And that's not to mention his hypothermia and exhaustion in the moment. The leg hadn't started hurting yet... too much cold and adrenaline. But it would soon. Dave had a good First Aid kit, so I was able to wash out the wound, cleanse it and stop the bleeding. Once the wound was dressed and Jacques warmer, he was gung-ho to keep going. Steve and Dave had cleaned out and pumped the water from Jacques's boat. His gear was all soggy, including inside every drybag, even his meds had melted to mush and his phone refused to work. We called Rachel from a different phone and tentatively arranged for her to come to Dowling Park boat ramp - 12 miles and 4 hours downstream!!! - because there was no clear access point before that. Jacques insisted he could make it... until he began paddling. Then the exhaustion and pain reared up and told him NO. Meanwhile, on Google, we'd found two prospective "camps" near the right bank that were less than half that distance. The first one was invisible/inaccessible/nonexistent as far as we could tell from the river. Steve continued scouting ahead.

Rachel sent us this from the ER.

The three of us came to an isolated dock on a high left bank. No Trespassing. But it seemed worth a shot. Dave called Steve to return, and stayed with the boats. I ventured onto the property, with Jacques not far behind. I heard a tractor. Great. At least the owner's outdoors and I won't be a strange man knocking on his door. I spotted the tractor and tried to get the man's attention, but then he turned away. Oops, there was the big dog, lying on the dirt trail ahead. Shit. I cut over behind trees to try to intercept the tractor at the other end of the large garden plot. As I came into the clearing, the dog saw me and started toward me. I was waving my arms wildly and finally the man saw me - an older heavyset man with a cowboy hat and stubble (though less stubble than mine). He slowly turned off the tractor and told me the dog was ok. I had already turned to say "good doggie", who did turn out to be a sweetheart. I explained what was going on, pointed to Jacques who'd limped up not far away. He seemed willing to help. So I quickly called Rachel - Facetime - handed her up to the man and introduced her. George gave Rachel his address and directions. From the start, George couldn't have been nicer or more helpful. He did tell us we'd landed in "conservative country" and that his dog's name was Trump (but he clearly held no grudge toward our liberal-looking asses). George drove us back to the river in his four wheeler. Dave and I got all of Jacques's stuff up the bank including his boat. Meanwhile George went to get his flatbed trailer. We loaded everything and drove out to his gate along a dirt road. Steve arrived, so he and Dave walked up from the river. Rachel arrived after about 40 minutes. (This left bank was the closer side of the river, and a much shorter drive than Dowling Park.) She and Jacques decided to head back to Tallahassee for medical care and to sleep in their own bed. We said goodbye to George and Trump and got back on the river. Steve had found the 2nd potential access point downstream (on river right, and hard to reach by car), so we stopped there to eat lunch and gather our wits. We were all pretty shaken and traumatized. And couldn't stop talking of all the day's events. We paddled until sunset - a gorgeous one - and arrived at Dowling Park River Camp just in time for night and a much needed rest. 14 miles. Full-sun day. (Steve had paddled an extra 6 miles scouting.)

Our first River Camp experience. Nice big beach landing. We had to carry gear pretty far across soft sand to the end of the ramp. But then, when loaded it onto a big waiting wheelbarrow and up the trail to our elevated screen houses with lights and shelves - we each took one. Hot showers with on-demand water heaters in a heated bathroom. Flush toilets. Outlet to recharge devices. Free firewood, already split. Good water. Wow. We couldn't have imagined such luxury a couple hours earlier. Jody was host - young easygoing solitary guy with 2 dogs, living in a trailer on site.
 

Friday 11/7/25. 11 miles to Lafayette Blue Springs State Park.

The ever-changing art of the rock walls along the river.

We had a relaxing start after yesterday's harrowing events. On river by 11:30 after making sure our gear was well-secured against prospective shoals. Lucky for us, the shoals were all minimal. In fact, there were no more significant shoals the rest of the trip. Today was the first day with a headwind from the south. Sunny and warm, so the wind was at least cooling. We took a break at Charles Spring, which had stopped flowing due to the low water. The underwater passage was above water.

We swam in the river there and had lunch. Arrived at Lafayette Blue Spring about 3 pm. Pulled up on a beach by the spring where there were steps. We were meeting Bram and Mark Canter here, who were going to paddle with us for a couple days. No sign of them yet. We swam in spring. The rather private area at top of steps, complete with picnic tables, looked ideal for a camp, and close to our boats.
 

Steve knew Larraine (host) from previous camping, so he went to talk with her. He came back with her approval to camp there, so we set up. Awhile later, we found Bram and Mark who'd been there for a few hours waiting at the river by the boat ramp. They'd also talked with Larraine (before Steve) and gotten permission to camp at top of boat ramp (100 yds away from our camp). Comparing conversations, Steve realized that Larraine thought she was allowing us to camp at same place she'd told the Canters. So we moved our camp over there all except my tent and bedding which was tucked away inconspicuously. I promised to be packed up by daybreak (and was). We had a nice dinner and story telling ("the Day") sitting by our "fire" - Mark's DuraFlame log in a grill box (actually quite nice). Too warm night again. BUT, with below-freezing nights coming the next day, Mark lent me his wool winter hat. And shared some of Margaret's good homecooking.

Saturday 11/8/25. 12 miles to Peacock Slough River Camp.
 

Perry Springs

Telford Springs

Rainy Day

Bram and Mark Canter join us for two nights - Four pedaling Hobies.

Cloudy and rainy parts of day. But we stopped at Perry Spring where Steve jumped in; and at Telford for a swim. I had arranged permission to camp at Running Springs via John Moran. It was about 10 miles, but when we got there, the river was so low that we found a very uninviting jagged rock wall four feet straight up the bank at Ambling Spring, and an almost equally difficult access at Running. A party of other people were there swimming and playing a boom box. We looked at the campsite and I found it very sad. Last year's hurricane had destroyed many trees and the sweet canopy. The weeds were grown up and springs sadly low. Most of us didn't think it worth camping there. We decided to paddle back upstream 2 miles to Peacock Slough River Camp. When we arrived, all the screen cabins appeared to be reserved! A surprise. (Though it turned out only 3 of 6 had campers show up. Steve and Mark ended up using two - moving in at bedtime.) The rest of us pitched our tents along the river in primitive sites. No host ever showed up. We had another nice evening of fire (a real one) and stories. Having had the "sold out" cabin experience at Peacock, we took the time there to make reservations for Adams Tract the next night - each of the three of us reserving a screen cabin online at floridastateparks.org. $6 each.

Sunday 11/9/25. 10 miles to Adam Tract River Camp.

A short day. We passed Bathtub, Convict, and then made a longish stop at Royal Springs for a swim, lunch, and to say goodbye to the Canters (whose car was there). The spring water (in all the springs) was noticeably warmer than the river water, though both felt great throughout the trip on warm days. We paddled on to Adams Tract River Camp arriving about 2:30 PM. With the river so low, finding places among the rocks for our boats was tough enough, but then we had to carry all our gear 10 - 20 precarious yards up the rocky ledge and to the stairs. Lanice, the host, greeted us from the landing above and brought us her oversized wheelbarrow. So once we got our stuff up the stairs, we had an easy trip to the screen cabins. Luxury again! And we had much of the afternoon to enjoy it. Plus we had a big covered pavilion nearby where we spread out all our food and tried to reorganize, trade, and give away excess. We had a big fire ring. Steve bought firewood from Lanice (though we found plenty more wild wood). BTW we started with 3 saws, which quickly dwindled to one. Steve lost his at Camp 1. Jacques lost (or took) his. So all we had was Dave's. Next time, I will bring one too. The fire felt great. It was a colder night, but not freezing.

My plan had been to have much more time and energy for meal fixing, so I'd brought separate bags of veggies, dried tofu, dried grains, bean packs, and lots of spices to make up meals along the way. Even with all that dried food, I started with 60 lbs! All of it packed inside my hull. And although organized in net bags on labeled strings, it was a pain to pull out 4 or 5 bags every day and haul them to camp. Breakfast bag with oats, trimmings and coffee; Grain bag, Bean (etc) bag, Spices bag... Next time, premade (even if homemade) meals, where a day's worth of breakfast (incl coffee), lunch, and dinner can be moved to my topside "picnic bag" (a large insulated closed-top bag modeled after the one Dave lent me). I kept a supply of snacks handy in the bucket just inside the hatch at my feet - that worked fine, but needed more variety - salty, sweet, fruity, chocolate, protein. Steve turned me onto Costco Sweet & Spicy Snack Mix combined with unsalted mixed nuts. Addictive. Jacques brought yummy (and hardy, crumble-proof) Lemon and Ginger Snaps. Dave had a variety of protein bars that were really good, as well as biscotti for coffeetime. (Not to mention, Dave brought gourmet coffee beans, a grinder, and a French press. Steve had a pourover rig. Me, I had instant... which by the way, was delicious.) I also want to try some commercial vegan freeze-dried meals next time? Dave also gave me single portion chicken packs (I had brought some salmon packs) and lunch became much easier - a wrap (I had some - wraps made good bread alt.), mayo pack, meat, plus apple, satsuma, and peanuts+M&Ms. I quickly realized I had to be much looser about my vegan diet on the trip. Even though heavy, I wish I'd brought more apples and oranges. Dave shared his large pack of yummy golden kiwis too.

Monday 11/10/25. 12 miles to sand bar (MP 73.5) 2 miles past Branford.
 

Little River Springs

This distance (12 mi) is starting to feel like average and pretty easy. We are now moving at closer to 3.5 mph, even with the river at 1 mph, though it may have picked up a bit with added flow from the Withlacoochee. Muscles adapting. Big job getting all our stuff back down the rocks to our boats and repacking (after all the extensive unloading and organizing). Steve stopped at Troy Spring and told us we'd missed a beaut. We all stopped a bit later at Little River Spring. Also very nice.
 

Branford Spring

And then on to the town of Branford at Hwy 27. There's actually a pretty spring there too, Branford Spring. We left the boats for a short while and shopped at the nearby convenience store (Neosporin, etc) and a mom & pop hamburger joint - I ate a cheeseburger!!! (It had been MANY years). Steve and Dave went down the road to a Family Dollar, returning with beer and wine. Resupplied and bellies full, we paddled on a few more miles to a "rest stop" (in the paddling guide), which turned out to be a (rare, down here) gorgeous sandbar. We stopped for the night, christening it Taj 2. The day was cold and windy (wind from N, good sailing), with temps dropping all day. The night was cold and windy, 30 degrees. But we were all cozy in our tents (me with Mark's hat, and Steve with the down bag the Canters brought him.) We dug a pit for the fire because of the wind. Plenty of firewood, and the Power of Lint.
 

Great tailwind for sailing

Taj 2

Click here for Part 2. Branford Sandbar to the Gulf of Mexico