Cedar Key
Cedar Key: isolated, quiet, infrequently traveled, and a wonderful unique community. We were told not to miss this town, and I’m glad we stopped. After our overnight adventure and sleeping in, we waited for the fog to clear long enough for us to dinghy to town. The fog there was weird. It was constantly rolling in from the sea, and not very much of the day was ever completely fog free. We had to time our dinghy travel with potential long spells of clarity, and thankfully we never got lost. On shore, two downtown areas were the center of attention: one waterfront with tourist shops and restaurants, the other home to art galleries and the offices of a peaceful town. The local history museum informed us that Cedar Key used to be the home of a busy pencil factory and bristle brush producer, and was the end of a 1000 mile walking trip of John Muir. With the change of industry during the last century, now the main focus of Cedar Key is fishing and tourism.
The towns along the bend of Florida are referred to as the “forgotten coast,” having escaped the wave of over-development while retaining a lost charm; Cedar Key embraced this ideal. Walking around the suburbs was fascinating. All the homes were decorated with eclectic beach paraphernalia, with no sidewalks or driveways and grass mixed with seashells and sand. Residents strolled by, and an occasional car or golf cart would slowly pass through the streets. It was quiet and calm and exuded a sense of relaxation.
We moseyed back out across the channel past Elpis to the small island we were anchored near for beach exploration. The island, Astena Otie Key, is currently uninhabited and is a horseshoe crab sanctuary, and used to be the home of the brush factory and a sawmill. Destroyed by a hurricane, the ruins are in the center of the island. We tried to hike in to check it out, but within seconds of passing between the palms we became engulfed in mosquitos and promptly returned to the beach.
After wandering among the oyster shells and horseshoe crab remains, we returned to the boat to plan our next move. Our options were to check out Crystal River, a popular home of manatees but notoriously shallow, or head directly to Tarpon Springs. Both trips were a lot of miles and would be a sunrise to sundown passage, so we decided finish our open water travels and to head to Tarpon Springs at first light.
In the morning we made our move, groggy but ready to be on to the next place. However, within 100 feet of entering the channel the depth sounder started reading more and more shallow, and we felt the boat slow as the keel nudged into the sand. Desperately we hoisted the main to try and heel the boat so we could escape to deeper water, but with an hour left until low tide every passing minute decreased our chances of success. Finally, there was nothing more we could do. With resigned sigh I dropped the anchor (for when we would eventually float free) and settled into waiting for the tide to return. Tides are a whole new dimension to us, and getting used to the fact that the depth and current is constantly changing is a challenge. In my years of coaching sailing, my fellow instructors and I would joke with the kids that the current in the Detroit River switches directions on Tuesdays. This is now our reality, except it changes an illogical amount of times every day and the joke is now on us.
When we were finally free with a comfortable amount of depth, it was too late to make it anywhere else in daylight. Defeated, we returned to town for a “sad we got stuck” lunch. We checked out the community garden and continued to roam the streets with lack of anything else to do. And then we had an idea. Emboldened by our success of our first overnight, we decided to make a second overnight crossing to make it to Tarpon Springs. This time, we would be able to leave at high tide and we knew the fog would hold off- the next morning’s forecast was doomed to be perpetually foggy. With perfect weather forecasted, we also would not have to rush to arrive by sunset and could take our time to give us room and light to dodge crab pots. The only downside was the lack of sleep, but we would have plenty of time to rest once we were back in the ICW.
Re-energized, grinning, and fully charged with a positive attitude, we got ourselves ready for round two!
Fog rolling in, there is no escaping it
Birds like to visit us?
