There to here

Sunrise leaving Great Harbour Cay for the crossing

“Department of Homeland Security”...that name has always seemed like “1984” speak to me; something some addle brained bumbler came up with to try and assure other addle brained bumblers that he was in command and doing something useful. It is hard to say if the actual organization is less “Big Brother-ish” than the name implies, or if it is more. In any case the Miami office gave me 24 hours to check in after we got back to the States. I got a new passport since they had issued my local boater card (also called the SVRS - small vessel reporting system) which, somehow, made me a security risk again. So I dragged my weary bones out of the berth the morning after a 35 hour, 140 nm passage, caught the mooring field shuttle, took a couple of different buses over to the Port of Miami, walked up the stairs to the office, and handed The Man my new passport and my old local boater card.

Sailing the first 18 hours of the crossing

He poked around in the computer at his desk, which is likely linked up with every other government computer in the world, along with the computers that my bank, phone, and Internet providers use. And, if someone so chose, I am sure that at least some of those government computers can look at everything on my personal computer. I guess he added some kind of comment to my file about me having handed him my new passport (which they obviously knew they had issued to me) and my old local boater card (which – equally obviously – they knew they had issued to me). Then he handed them back to me and sent me on my merry way.

What I thought odd was that The Man, like everyone behind the bullet proof glass, was dressed in the full black ninja outfit, combat boots, and with a very serious looking weapon strapped to his hip. He, and his compatriots, were obviously very serious people, warriors, those not to messed with; the ones who appear out of the night, breach the barriers, kick the asses and take the names. Since we are constantly told just how deep is the danger we are all in, how close the bad guys always are, one would think the Department of Homeland Security could find some capable clerks to poke around in the computers and make the notes, and let the warriors go about their warring.

Then again, maybe the Department of Homeland Security dresses their capable clerks up like ninjas and lets them carry guns because someone has to look the part. The real warriors, the ones who do the actual ass kicking and name taking, likely don't dress the part. Instead they wear the same kinds of clothes the bad guys wear, carry the same kinds of guns, get the same kind of haircuts, and lurk in the dark places the bad guys lurk. They pick up the rumors, run down the hints, and search though the murk to figure out what the bad guys are planning. They board the ships that need be boarded and force open the shipping containers that need to be inspected. They follow the money, listen in on the suspected phones, rummage through the suspected computers, and stalk the dark recesses of the web and the world.

It almost has to be that way because making a middle aged white guy, who has already signed on for a background check, drop by the office just because he got a new passport is a waste of everyone's time. If the powers that be actually regarded that as some kind of real security the bad guys would have taken over the place a long time ago.

I say “almost” because, well, it might all be a bit of a sham. How else would they pry literally trillions of dollars out of our collective pockets to pay for “security” while under-funding virtually every social program in the country? Americans are generally pretty good folks. We wouldn't normally let kids go hungry, sacrifice our own kid's education, close down research into weather and physics and space, trash the environment, and condemn veterans to homelessness and poverty. Normally. But where the money goes that we would have spent on those things, other than buying ninja suits and serious looking guns, is secret. Most of what they say they do is also a big secret. I know that the Congress and the Senate are supposed to serve us by keeping an eye on such things, but when was the last time any Congressman or Senator did anything in the public's interest? I guess your view of the sham percentage in all of this rests on just how much you trust the Congressmen and Senators to do the right thing.

Sunset the end of the first day

The 35 hours, 140 nm passage from Great Harbor to Dinner Key went pretty well, if an average speed of four knots can be described as doing well. Truth to tell, having Miami in sight for more than 6 hours before finally dropping the hook was starting to get on my nerves. We were doing barely three knots at that point, the Beast struggling to push us against the Gulf Stream. We had a small problem rolling up the jib again and, again, that was an 0300 in dark, dark, morning thing. Even though we were pulling it in because the winds had died away to near nothing, it still rolled in up funky. While trying to fix it later the furling line got all snagged up, again.

So, on the way home from the DHS we stopped by West Marine and dropped about $200 on new blocks. Back at the boat we rearranged the furling line run and added the new hardware. We also noticed that the spare jib halyard, the one we have hauling around aloft for four years without ever using it for anything, lay really close to furling block at the top of the sail, and that it could easily hang up the whole operation. Since we have the spinnaker halyard for hauling the Ding and the anchor (if necessary) there seemed no good reason to leave that potential problem hanging up there.

So this morning I dropped it, only it didn't drop the whole way. The end, in free fall from the top of the mast, somehow managed to tie itself around the upper spreader as it fell. And I mean tie, as in an honest knot, not just snag as one might guess. How that happened is beyond me, except that Kintala still hates me on some days. And, some days, I hate her right back. Fortunately we picked this morning to move from the rolling, pitching, ugliness that is the Dinner Key mooring field in a southeast wind, to the serenity and quiet waters deep inside No Name Harbor. Untangling the wayward halyard was an easy, 10 minute foray aloft on a boat sitting as still as could be.

Land Ho! Miami on the horizon

After that, the deck was secured and the Ding went overboard. We need water, a bit of food, one LPG tank filled, and a good night's rest or two before heading south once again. From anchored off Great Harbor Cay to the weekend party that is No Name Harbor...sometimes we go pretty slow, but it is hardly ever dull.

No-Name Harbor, Kintala front and center

The lineup of boats waiting to depart for the States in the morning

Our neighbor in the anchorage at Great Harbour Cay

The last of the pretty turquoise water pictures for a few months. Stay tuned for more!

Making friends

Being snug as a bug is kind of nice. Being a bug hanging onto the end of a horse's tail, while the horse runs at a full gallop while herding cows, is less nice. Which is what it feels like in the Dinner Key mooring field.

Not really sure why I like this place so much, though I suspect being out on ball number 148 means getting much less for my $25 per night than being in on ball, say, 48. Either way, we are here to see friends not seen in a while, pick up some provisions, and make ready to head to places south we haven't been before. (Note to the Dinner Key mooring field bosses – anyone out past ball 100 deserves a price break. After ball 125 you should be paying us.)

It is nearly a mile from Kintala's bow to the Dink Dock. The wind is out of the west, but we are so far from land that it makes little difference in the waves. Go-fast, small commercial fishing, and big Sport Fishing boats pass by generating a never ending parade of wake hits. For some reason, though the entire channel is a “NO WAKE” zone, most power boat drivers seem to get impatient about half way. Those going in get about half way before slowing down. Those coming out make it about half way before hitting the gas. It doesn't seem very considerate.

(This evening we took a hit so robust that it tossed my beer bottle out of its holder and onto the cockpit floor. Fortunately, I had finished that one off already, so no alcohol abuse was involved.) 
 

No Name Harbor on a calm day in the middle of the week in 2014

Which got me to thinking about some of the things going on in No Name Harbor. No Name has a rule prohibiting staying on the wall overnight which, in our experience, has been pretty well enforced. But this last time in we noticed a whole string of boats tied up over several nights in a row. Asked around, and the rumor is that there is a new Park Manager, and he doesn't have the budget or manpower to enforce that rule. Good deal, right? Tying to land in a protected place, with rest rooms, laundry, and a pump out. A cruising dream come true. But I got to wondering.

No Name is a party spot, with a nice restaurant right on the harbor. Big power boats come in for the weekend, meet with friends, and often have lunch or dinner. Cruising sailboats, for the most part, used to be anchored pretty much out of the way. The power boats don't often carry dinks, so tying to the wall is the only way they can meet with their friends. Now though, they will pull in and find the wall lined with boats, mostly sail, with some boats that were there the weekend before, and the weekend before that.

While cruising powerboats look pretty much like the non-cruising variety, cruising sailboats are usually easy to spot. The rails are lined with water, diesel, and fuel jugs. Many sport a collection of wind vanes, solar panels, and wind generators. The vast assembly of hardware that makes a sailboat a sailboat, corrodes and stains hulls and decks. Life lines often sport a collection of tightie whiteies and towels drying in the sun. And, let us be honest, a lot of our cruising boats look like they have been ridden hard and never put away at all because, well, that is exactly how we use them. They are things of beauty to us, but to someone looking from the flying bridge of a mega-buck power yacht?

Now I admit that I am a cruiser, and am of the opinion that the rest of the world should look upon us, see nothing but the vanguard of human kind's future, and thus grant us free reign over the waters we live on. We travel light on the planet, leaving little behind for our explorations. We point-produce most of our power and use it very carefully. We don't need thousands of miles of concrete poured over Mother Earth to get where we want to go. Generally we are friendly and helpful, not very full of ourselves because we have seen a bigger picture than many of our American compatriots know. We like other countries and cultures, are not afraid of people with skin tones different that ours, who worship gods we haven't met, and who speak languages we don't understand. (Nearly any collection of cruisers will include more bi, tri, and multi-lingual people than nearly any group of land dwellers.) We have married couples sailing together, un-married couples sailing together, solo sailors meeting and spending “quality” time on the other boat; “live and let live” could well be the official motto of our gypsy tribe of wanderers.

But, sometimes, I think we are our own worst enemy. Here in Florida the cruising news is full of the law being passed that will close down some popular anchorages. Closings prompted solely by rich people who think they own the view outside of their McMansion, and don't like cruising boats intruding on their space. It is ugly and offensive and pure corruption of a most blatant kind, politicians and police departments being bought and sold on the open market for all to see. And yet...

It seems likely that, with mega-boat owners finding No Name's wall blocked by cruising boats tied-to for days or weeks at a time, it will not be long before a law banning overnight stays there will soon be in the offering as well. No Name is a State Park, a common area, a place shared by everyone in the community, land dwellers and power boat party goers included. If we in the cruising tribe forget that, if we act with the same lack of consideration that the power boats show in the channel here in Dinner Key, I'm not sure we can complain if the rest of the community moves to force us out.

This is not to say Kintala will never be on the wall in No Name. There is a pump out that we use often. The store is a long walk away, and loading provisions is much easier if on the wall than it is hauling stuff in the dink. When the weather goes down the tubes using the wall to get as many boats into the harbor and safe is certainly a good idea, one that the old rule dismissed unnecessarily. (Though even with the old rule, the powers-that-be seemed willing to bend it for weather and to give broken boats a chance to get fixed.) But I think we would do ourselves a big favor to remember that No Name has lots of uses for many people, and we need to make sure they have access to a space that belongs to them as much as it does to us. One night on the wall and gone, off the wall on weekends, make room for people who don't live like we do; it might make us some friends in Florida.

We could use some.

A Different Perspective

If there is any one thing that I have taken away from two and a half years of cruising, it's that cruising is different for every cruiser that's out here. There is no single right way to live this life, no single thing that works for everyone attempting it, no method or means that is universal.

You might not believe the aforementioned is true if you read the glossies that tell you the list of equipment that everyone simply must have prior to pushing off. You also might not believe that's true if you even use a valuable tool like Active Captain reviews (like we avidly do) to plan your stops and stays.

I've been thinking a lot about this because we're sitting on a ball at the Dinner Key Mooring Field in Coconut Grove, FL. We've been here multiple times in the last two years and it has become a home base of sorts. Great people at the mooring office, brand new marina office with beautiful showers and laundry, free shuttle, stores close by, fantastic public transportation all abound. If you've never been here before, the mooring field is a long, thin piece of marginally deep water that snakes out from the Dinner Key Marina into Biscayne Bay. Way out into the bay. There are a little over 200 mooring balls, and the larger and deeper your boat, the farther out into the field they will place you. In the past, we've occupied balls in the 40's, 50's and 80's. This time we're on 148.

We're .7 miles from the dinghy dock, about a 20 minute ride in dead calm water, which the mooring field is exactly never. In rough water it's at least a 30 minute slog with our small motor, and a very wet one at that, rough enough and long enough that we decided not to deploy the dinghy at all this stay, but to utilize the free shuttle that operates on the hour from 8-5 each day. The moorings are very exposed to all but wind out of the west, and even that is no protection for boats on balls above 100. If you happen to be on a ball positioned right next to the channel (like we are this time), the wake from passing boats will rock and roll you mercilessly. If we had been assigned this mooring the very first time we came here, we might feel entirely different about this place. Since we know and have experienced the gem that is Coconut Grove, even these inconveniences are not enough to deter us from enjoying our stay here. But I couldn't blame someone from writing a bad review, if they chose to do so, based on their experience with the exposed moorings.

My point in telling you all of these details is that you should take reviews and opinions of fellow cruisers with a grain of salt, us included. What one cruiser finds annoying, another might find a small inconvenience to pay for great rewards. We recently ran into a gentleman at Vero Beach who was ranting about this mooring field and the people here. I was surprised and caught off guard since we've loved the place so much in previous visits. His experience clearly was different, his expectations not met, and his comfort level exceeded. Gather all the information you can, determine your comfort level and assess your desires, then make up your own mind. Be willing to stop in a place more than once to see if your experiences are consistent. Be willing to forge a new path if there are no reviews. You just might find a hidden gem like the Coconut Grove Drum Circle, one of the best experiences we've had since we left to go cruising. Oh, and even with all of it's rolly issues, the Dinner Key mooring field has some of the best sunsets anywhere in Florida. Hands down. But, really, you have to come decide for yourself.

Too, too long ...

Bye Bye Dinner Key Mooring Field

Bye Bye Coconut Grove

Kintala is anchored outside of No Name Harbor this evening. As expected No Name itself is completely full of boats getting ready to cross to the Islands. Word has it they are looking at an early morning start time, around 0200 in the dark early. Outside and around us sit more than a dozen additional boats aiming for the same start time. Most are sail with a few power sprinkled around here and there. (Including one gorgeous Nordic Tug 42). Tomorrow is forecast to be a perfect day for crossing in a power boat, with fading winds, mild seas, and rain. If Kintala was a power boat with an inside steering station, muchas motor, full time heat, a snoot full of gee-wiz navigational systems, and an auto-helm, we would probably be going as well. But she isn't. And we aren't. Motoring through rain with nasty weather breathing down the stern is not why we came this way. Though, truth to tell, the window appears a bit larger than it looked yesterday.

Also, this looks like a huge herd of boats heading to Bimini. I get twitchy around herds, and Bimini isn't all that huge. I'm not sure where all these boats think they are going to end up. But whereever it is, it better be a place to sit out a 30+ knot blow, because that's what's reported to be chasing them across the Gulf Stream. I have visions of being the last in to find all slots taken, the only place left outside and exposed to the rollers coming off the Gulf Stream in 30 knot north winds.

Bye Bye Floating Bear

Even with enough slots, once there it looks like everyone will get to sit for a couple of days. Not that pretty much anywhere in the Bahamas is a bad place to sit, but Kintala is going to sit out the ugly in No Name. There should be plenty of room come morning. And for people like us, who spent a good many of their winters in the frozen Mid-West, pretty much anywhere in Biscayne Bay is a good place to sit as well. Not the Islands, but not bad. I'm pretty sure any of our old friends on Carlyle would trade places with us in a heartbeat, and the Islands will be there in a week or two. No one is keeping score on when we go where, or why, or how. We are completely content with just being on the move once again.

Maybe the new marina building will finally be done the next time we're back...

And it was time to be on the move again. After 60+ stationary days, this morning saw Kintala's crew going through the pre-launch routine with a certain deliberation. Getting underway again always feels awkward after sitting for a while. At 1300 the WesterBeast shuddered to life, the mooring lines were untangled, un-rigged, untangled some more, and stowed away. Several friends called on the radio to wish us “fair winds” as we made our way out the channel. There we joined in a parade of boats reminiscent of our first brush with the ICW. (There are a lot of boats moving around these parts this weekend.) As is our want when the sailing is good, we missed the turn toward No Name heading down the bay on a close reach instead. It was just too good a day to go straight to a destination barely 5 miles away. The head sail flew solo at first. Later we added the main. Then – after the turn around – the staysail joined the show. Kintala, close-hauled with all her canvas pulling, is a sight to see.

What in the world are those white thingies?

The day was full of unexpected delights. After months of absence we had dolphins swimming nearby once again, always a nice surprise. We hoisted, trimmed, and flew the entire rig with nary a mishap or fouled line. Not a single “oops”. Not sails going up. Not sails coming down. Not getting off the mooring. Not setting the hook. Which was also a nice surprise. And the cockpit, with the revamped Bimini frame? Nothing short of “WOW”. I would never have believed that a few inches added here and there would have made such a huge difference. Moving into, out of, and around the cockpit is noticeably easier. Sitting is more comfortable. Sight lines are better. It is like someone cut the aft end of the boat away and grafted on a whole new one.

So pronounced was the difference, so easy the sailing (remember, this is only the third time we worked the staysail with a furler), and so perfect was the day that – just for a moment - I thought to myself …

“If I'm not careful, this boat may turn into a well founded, perfectly serviceable, live-aboard sailboat. I might even (wait for it) actually learn to LIKE this thing.”

I know, I can't believe it either.

Clearly we were on the mooring ball way, way, too long.

Our friends Nate and Jen's one of a kind junk-rigged schooner custom built from an Allied Princess

Our friends Paul and Deb on Kelly Nicole getting chased out of town by a gaggle of power boaters

They escaped fast!

Lots of sailing going on in Biscayne Bay this lovely Sunday afternoon.

Anybody know what this is?

A very happy Captain

The end of a very good day.

A good day ...

The intention was to spend most of this month sailing around Biscayne Bay. Not to be too blunt, I need the practice. Even after 2000 nm Kintala still gives hints that she isn't always happy with the way she is being handled. But Sister Sky had different ideas about the things that might go on during November this year in southern Fl. So, instead of sailing, our old Tartan collected bottom barnacles in Middle River, Miami Stadium, and then in No Name Harbor. After weeks of constant F5 winds we finally left No Name this morning and got in a good day … in steady F5 winds. (In addition No Name has a 2 week limit per visit. Don't tell anyone but today was day 13 for us. I like No Name, but it was time to move on.)

It is about 5 miles from No Name to the Dinner Key mooring field. Kintala covered a bit more than 20 today. We were having so much fun out romping that we kind of went the long way around. We practiced different sail sets, hove to, and generally tried to get a little better at making the boat go. One thing we pretty much verified is that, often, we simply don't drive the boat hard enough. With the jib alone we were doing a solid 5+ in mid teens winds with gusts in the low 20s. Going south we found a bit more wind and decided to roll up the jib and fly the stay sail. Kintala did not approve. Speed fell to the high 3s as the boat wallowed around and generally misbehaved. The stay sail was rolled back in and about two-thirds of the jib went back out. The speed picked up to the mid to high 5s and flirted with 6. The boat danced happily through the waves. Lesson learned. When the winds blow, fly enough canvas to keep the speed well above 5, but not so much as to set the boat on its ear.

Somewhere in all of our tacking and jibing the jib leach line tore out and the sumbrella got a couple of rips in it. Not sure how that happened but, it must be admitted, Kintala's suit of sails is a bit weary. The only real party dress she has in her closet is the nearly new main sail. To keep from doing any more damage, the jib got benched and the stay sail went back in play. That is not enough horsepower on a broad reach unless the wind is flat howling. Force 5 is short of howling so we put up a double reefed main in an attempt to balance the boat with the small head sail. It worked pretty well. This was the first time we flew two reefs with a purpose and getting all the rigging squared away took the deck monkey a few tries. The top batten got caught in the lazy jacks and, being on a reach rather than close hauled, the leeward running back was in the way. (Tight on the wind - which is when we usually fly the stay sail - we normally leave both the running backs set as the boom never gets that far from the center of the boat.)

Adding to the fun, just when we were set to drop the main and enter the channel into the marina and on to the mooring field, a sneaky little storm slapped us with heavy rains and wind gusts into the 30s. Visibility went into the dumpster and, soaking wet in the cold wind, so did the crew body temperatures. It was a busy couple of uncomfortable minutes but the main fell cleanly into the lazy jacks, the stay sail went - not so cleanly - onto its furler, and the WesterBeast picked up the traces. Once in the mooring field Deb made a perfect pass at the ball but I missed the catch, forcing her to go around through the clutch of boats to give me another shot. This with more rain and the winds gusting into the 20s again. One of the reasons we get along so well is that she never makes much of my mistakes. I will do the same as soon as she makes one.

Photo courtesy of Leave Happier Photography

So we have joined the rest of the crowd getting bounced around in the mooring field this evening. Winds are still a solid F5 running to F6 when the storms pass nearby. There is still some deck work to do and the dink needs launched, but it will have to wait until morning. The constant work of the day has set my forearms on fire, though a cold Coke & Vodka is helping to damp the flames. (Kintala is suffering a lack of Rum at the moment … not sure how I let that happen.) Tomorrow we go into full project mode and in a couple of weeks we will make the trip to meet New Grand Daughter Edie and see family not hugged for more than a year.

Since Kintala will not move again until we stage for the Islands, it was good to get this day of sailing in; rain, wind, torn sail, and all.

Marina Musings

Magothy River Anchorage, MD

Deciding to go cruising is a long process. Most people who decide to go cruising don't know anyone else doing it personally and have never been out cruising with friends, so the picture of what cruising actually is is pretty indistinct. This was certainly true for us as was evidenced by the fact that we never even thought about the ICW in our planning. We thought about long ocean passages, we thought about weather, we thought about equipment as related to passages and weather, but the idea that we would motor down the ICW some 1000 miles just never even entered our minds.

One of the biggest things we've learned about cruising in general this past year is that it's important to think about what kind of cruiser you want to be, and to be honest with yourself about whether you have the abilities and characteristics to be that kind of cruiser. It will impact the way you prepare to cruise, the things you purchase, the things you bring from your land life, and your expectations. We've said often on this blog in recent months that we always pictured ourselves as blue water cruisers, taking long passages and rarely sitting for long periods of time. This reasoning came as a result of our long passages around New England and with John Kretschmer in the Bahamas, passages where there was adequate crew to ease the load of passage making. The reality of it was that we suffered more from sea sickness than we thought we would, and sail changes at night in bad weather were more stressful than we were comfortable with. We simply didn't enjoy it when we were short handed.

Broad Creek Anchorage, NC

I never really began to think about what kind of cruiser I wanted to be until our friend Kacey came to visit for two weeks. He wanted to spend a prolonged time out “doing it” and toward the end when we had some long, ranging talks about his experiences he said he had decided he was more a liveaboard than a cruiser. It really got me on this train of thought and with every passing month, and with every additional experience, our “kind of cruiser” is being better defined.


So what does this have to do with the title of this blog post? Because for the last month we've been parked at a dock in a marina. It's a nice marina with great reviews on Active Captain, beautiful landscaping, a view of some incredible yachts, good dock mates, and all the conveniences of home. So why do I hate it? Because Kintala can't swing into the wind and the sun doesn't do its ripple reflection thing on the ceiling in the morning, the water is disgusting, there's no dolphins and I've gotten hurt not once, but twice getting on and off the boat at high tide. One kind of cruiser I definitely don't want to be is a marina rat.

Pungo River Anchorage NC

This is not to say that being a marina rat isn't a good thing. For some people. There are a half dozen people here who live full time in the marina, most of them on trawlers of some sort, although a few are on sailboats. If being a liveaboard is your thing then a marina is the place to be. A continuing flow of ice and clean clothes and long showers is not to be taken lightly, and we've been in a few really exceptional ones like Oak Harbor and Barefoot. But would I trade it for a mooring? In a heartbeat.


We've spent a good bit of time on the Vero Beach mooring field, and it's called Velcro Beach for a good reason. Great protection, excellent dinghy dock and lounge/shower/laundry facilities, free bus service, and a beautiful beach. The best beach, though was at Treasure Cay, Abacos. The moorings there are reasonable at $20 a day, and the facilities are great. St. Augustine was one of those places where the mooring field sucked because it's so exposed and the dinghy ride to the dock is long and wet, but the town made up for it with rich history everywhere. More recently we spent quite a bit of time in Coconut Grove at the Dinner Key Mooring Facility. As far as moorings go, the actual mooring field sucks like St. Augustine because it's so exposed. The exposure does give you a fantastic skyline view of downtown Miami and oncoming thunderstorms, fresh air and a nearly constant breeze abound, and the mosquitoes are few if you're out far enough. The reason we would go back there, though, is the staff. Patrick and his staff are without any doubt the most talented customer service division we've seen on a mooring field anywhere. They are helpful, polite, prompt, knowledgeable, and make you feel like you're the only reason they're there. And yet...

From the dock at Oriental, NC

We would still rather anchor out when given the choice. We are almost always happier when we are cozied up in a cove somewhere either by ourselves or with a couple other boats. It's best if the water is clear, the bottom sandy, and the weather warm, but we've equally enjoyed some cold, gray, stormy anchorages with cups of coffee and warm sweatshirts. We've anchored up rivers in Maryland, in inlets in South Carolina, in bays in North Carolina, along long stretches of beach in the Abacos, in a tiny cove in Egg Island, Eleuthra, in Middle River, FL, and right smack dab in the middle of Nassau. Each one has had its own flavor, each one serves to meet a mood.

Camp LeJeune Anchorage

After a year of thinking about this all, here's my Pros and Cons list for each. What kind of cruiser are you?

Marinas

Pros	Cons
Air conditioning in hot climates, heat in cold.	Noise: other boats, road and city traffic, neighbors
Easy access to groceries, trash, water, electricity, laundry, and sometimes (if you're very lucky) wifi	Wifi rarely works
You get to meet more people	You have to put up with people that you may not care for
Easier to work on the boat	Harder to go sailing since you're established in one place
Ice Cream Access: 10	Wakes from passing power boaters
	You spend WAY more money because everything is so accessible
No need for a dinghy dock	Hard to get on and off the boat when docks are not floating. Easy to get hurt.
No running the generator.	Power at the dock is low quality and we've had two shore power cords burn in 7 years.
	Services vary wildy for the same money. The best marina we ever stayed in cost 1/3 of our current dock.

Charleston, SC anchorage

Moorings

Pros	Cons
More stable ride since the boat always swings into the wind	Sometimes exposed
Good ventilation since the boat swings into the wind	Sometimes relatively expensive. Quality is inconsistent
Less worry about dragging in high winds	You need to know the quality of the mooring
Relatively accessible to services like groceries, banks, laundry, etc., depending on the mooring	You spend more money than anchoring
You can run the generator but...	Some people don't want to hear it
Most mooring fields have cruiser nets to facilitate getting to meet people	For some reason jet skis feel it is their personal duty to run high speed through mooring fields. Honestly. Every one we've been in.
Dinghy dock available
Ice Cream Access: 8

South Beach Miami Anchorage

Anchorages

Pros	Cons
Freedom. You rarely have anyone telling you what to do, anchoring well is a challenge and builds skill	You're totally responsible for your safety
You pick the view	Services vary depending on where you pick
Free	Sometimes harder to meet people
Ventilation is good since the boat always swings into the wind	Sometimes people can anchor too close or be obnoxious
Did I mention free?	Ice Cream Access: Dependent on location, but usually around a 4
4G cell internet available in most populated areas, even in the Bahamas. We were rarely without it	Wifi is rarely available without an extender, and even with one most wifi is password protected now
Privacy is excellent	Dinghy docks are hard to come by and usually cost
You can run the generator whenever you feel like it

No-Name Harbor, FL

Hatchet Bay, Eleuthra Anchorage

Dinner Key Mooring Facility, FL