Aboard MV Tortuga

As perfect as Day One was, Day Two was—well—not.

We kicked things off with a Keurig explosion, which pretty much set the tone for everything that followed. Coffee is non-negotiable, so this could have gone very sideways very quickly. Enter Manolo to save the day! He had originally planned to help us shove off the dock, but instead made a detour to Publix to grab new reusable K-cups. Crisis averted (at least temporarily).

Dock departure, thankfully, went far more smoothly than our coffee situation. We executed our plan to use a stern spring off a piling and the bow thruster to pivot out of a tight fairway—and it worked like a charm. As my dad used to say, “I love it when a plan comes together.” If only the rest of the day followed suit.

For a while, it actually did.

The cruise itself was mostly uneventful… until it wasn’t. Heather headed down into the cabin and discovered water covering the hallway floor. Never a good sign. After some quick investigating, we found the culprit: a bolt on the toilet had sprung a leak and was now spraying a steady little stream.

The good news? It appeared to be raw water—not “that” kind of water. (We’re choosing to believe that and moving forward accordingly.) A quick response involving a closed seacock, a pile of towels, and tightening the bolt gave us a temporary fix. And Mom, if you’re reading this—don’t worry. We had PLENTY of Clorox wipes.

Naturally, the excitement didn’t stop there.

Anchoring turned into its own saga. Our destination was Mosquito Lagoon, a spot we’d visited before with friends and heard nothing but great things about. It checked all the boxes: peaceful anchorage, a chance to get ahead of weekend boat traffic in New Smyrna, and even a rocket launch scheduled for the evening.

Perfect, right?

Not exactly.

We must have tried to anchor ten times. TEN. The anchor just would not bite. Add in a minefield of crab pots, and it quickly turned into one of those “why are we doing this again?” moments. We were just about ready to throw in the towel and head back to Titusville when Heather made the call—literally—and phoned a friend.

Bill didn’t offer any groundbreaking new technique, but sometimes you just need a little encouragement. Because on what we had declared would be our “final” attempt… the anchor finally set.

We spent a tense ten minutes watching, waiting, and hoping we weren’t dragging. But eventually, we were confident: we had a solid hold.

And just like that, the day redeemed itself.

We watched a rocket launch light up the sky, popped a bottle of bubbles, took in a beautiful sunset, and enjoyed a quiet anchorage all to ourselves—well, aside from one brief anchor alarm just to keep things interesting.