Saturday, September 27, 2014


So here's what it is about:  bloggers recognizing other bloggers.  The Liebster Award is a project that promotes the discovery of new blogs.  If you're selected for the "award", you must answer some questions given to you by the blog that selected you, and then also choose other blogs for the award and give them some questions to answer.  Thanx to Paul and Debra (Latitude 43) for awarding me.  Here are my answers to the questions they asked:

When did you first catch the sailing/cruising bug?
Back when we lived in Colorado, we had a kitchen design/remodel business, and our watersports consisted of canoe camping on lakes and rivers.  One of Jaye's colleagues asked if we could redo the laminate in the galley of his 24-foot Catalina sailboat.  Small project, he said.  We didn't even need to come to the boat, he said, he could deliver the piece to us, it fit in his car trunk.  When it came time to return the finished piece and he asked how much he owed, Dan said it was such a small job, it's almost embarrassing to charge you.  "Tell you what, I spent about 3 hours total on this, why don't you give us 3 hours of time understanding your fascination with this boat thing?"  His boat was in Lake Granby in the Rockies.  One summer Saturday we drove up to where he was, sailed around for a bit, dropped the anchor and had some snacks, then motored back to his mooring.  This small project is now remembered as the most expensive kitchen job we ever did.  Dan was utterly hooked from that moment.  A few months later, at a candle party, we met the best friend of Jaye's office mate, who was a charter yacht trip broker.  She said she thought we'd hit it off really well with one of her charter yacht captains (she was right, we still count David as one of our A-list friends).  A short time later we were on a 1-week liveaboard/learn to sail cruise in the Virgin Islands.  We were boat owners within a year.  Not a bad trajectory for a Kansas farmboy!

Water life pre-sailboat: canoeing with friends at Ruby Canyon on the Colorado River, sometime in the early 1990s.
Bassackwardz, our first boat, 1975 Erickson 27, Northport, Michigan

Describe your worst repair or maintenance job on the boat besides the head. Everyone already knows that’s a shitty job.
Um, writing the check to the boatyard?  Certainly that's the most painful.  The weirdest job had to be getting rid of wasps that had built a nest at the top of the mast.  Think about this -- you normally get 10-20 feet away and spray.  But when you're climbing the mast, if you annoy the wasps before they are all dead,  you can't get away!
Up to the top of the mast with a can of wasp spray!

Improvised safety gear: foulies so the spray wouldn't contaminate skin, and mosquito netting that normally keeps critters from coming down our hatches draped over a wide-brimmed hat to prevent stings.

If you could turn back time just 3 years what would your cruising life be like today? If I could turn back time just 5 minutes I would have asked a different question because now I have that stupid Cher song in my head.
Delighted to say, I would do it over again the same way.  According to our ship's log, three years ago today, Sept 26, our marina in Annapolis completed engine service and alignment, and we left for an ICW trip to Florida on Sept 29, 2011.

Music soothes the soul. Do you listen to music onboard? What type of music and on what media? If it’s 70’s disco please decline the award and I’ll remove you from my feed. Just kidding. Feel free to add a mirror ball to the salon and dance all night long. I don’t judge. Much.
We've got a crazy-eclectic collection on our iPod: lots of jazz, steel pan and soca from the islands, reggae, Broadway show tunes, rock, big band swing, old sea chanteys.  And, courtesy of my last boss, a collection of the Billboard Top 100 from every year from the 1940s to the 2000s, so that includes 1970s disco.  (**blush**)
We have at least a little bit of every kind of music imaginable on our 160 GB ipod, from "Zulu Men's Singing Competition" to Baroque recorder, jazz, rock, reggae ... and some disco.  (Image, and a link to purchase your very own disco ball, here)

Was there ever a time on the water when you thought "Oh shit!" and all the fun was over for that day?
Well, there was one trip when I went below while we were underway and noticed the floorboards were floating in ankle-deep water.  It was right after Hurricane Irene in the Chesapeake Bay, and I blogged about the adventure in a post called May You Live In Interesting Times.

Wine, beer, booze or tea?
Rum is our preferred; packs the most buzz per ounce, and efficiency of space is prized around here!  And wine with dinner.  But it's all too easy to overdo.  We know too many boozy cruisers and are scared of that particular slippery slope, so we try to restrain ourselves to no more than one or two per day.  The rest of the time we use a SodaStream and just fizz our cold water.

Has there ever been a destination you couldn't wait to arrive at only to be disappointed when you got there? 
Parts of the Bahamas on our first cruise in 2009-2010.  The water was crystal clear and gorgeous ... and too darn cold to snorkel for more than a short time! We'd been thinking we'd be jumping off the stern and swimming every day, instead, even in our wetsuits it just wasn't warm enough.

What part of cruising do you dislike the most besides no flushing toilets or bloggers asking stupid questions?
I miss the freedom and independence of a car, at the same time that I love the way walking instead of driving lets me see our cities and towns from a totally different perspective.  And I miss having lots of tools and a woodshop. I miss having an ongoing relationship with a trusted hairstylist and my awesome physical therapist Jen, and yet, if we weren't cruising, I'd miss the mobility and the opportunity to experience new places more than I miss the things I just mentioned!

Describe the best time you ever had on a boat unless it was illegal, then just email me.
Neither illegal nor immoral, but all I will say about that particular week of sailing is that when we came home, neither of us had any tan lines. Anywhere.

And now, I'd like to nominate:
Little Cunning Plan
Out Chasing Stars
Dock Six Chronicles
s/v Octopussy
Cat Tales

Some questions for those bloggers:

  • What got you started on boats/sailing/cruising?
  • What was your life like, pre-boat?  What did you do for recreation?
  • What's the most unlikely thing you currently have aboard?
  • Tell us about your first night at anchor.
  • If money were no object, what addition/change would you make to your present boat?
  • Aside from finances (we all have that issue), how has boat life changed you?
  • Most bloggers have a story about someone they met through their blog, or an amusing connection or opportunity that happened because of their blogging ... what's yours?
  • Give us a link to your most popular blog post.
  • And to one that you think deserves a wider audience.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Project Progress Week 5: And the Boom Times Continue

We were so demoralized by the rain that stopped our progress, and looking forward to a weekend of gazing wistfully at the settee that should have been finished, that we asked the carpenter Ken if he'd give us the pieces of wood so that we could dry-fit them, see how the rebuilt settee was going to look, and cut and pin the upholstery cushions in their new size.  So just at 5 PM as the rain was letting up a little bit, he handed us a bundle of beautiful teak pieces.  If we'd had a tablesaw, and if we'd had a supply of good wood, and most of all if Dan's hand wasn't still healing from the surgery, this would be the kind of project we could do ourselves over the weekend, relying on old expertise from our kitchen design/remodel business.  But we didn't, and we hadn't, and it was, so we were reliant on others.  Turned out just as well; Ken's work was exacting and the wood he supplied was gorgeous.

Before we got to that, though, there was some playing to do.  Remember I described this place as a "front-porch kind of town?" Well, it seems the town event planners think so too. They called it an "Ol' Front Porch Music Festival" -- local musicians of all genres set up on the front porches of the historic houses in town and gave free concerts.  Historic homes walking tour with a soundtrack, and there was no way we were going to miss this novel concept.

Country music on the porch of one local shop.

There's a group in town who get together to play the ukulele, purely for fun. 

Bluegrass at the old hotel.  The guy in the black shirt (2nd from left) is our carpenter Ken. Man of many talents -- and as I commented before, half the fun is seeing people in their alternate context.

Small-town America, children and puppies -- just as wholesome as it gets. And I don't mean that in a snarky way; this town really is just that sweet.
Sunday we did dry-fit the pieces into the modified settee and were glad to have the extra time to fidget with the fit.  Between the time we had given them our measurements to cut the wood, and the time we received the pieces, we had misplaced our copy of the pattern in all the construction chaos, and couldn't remember the details of how we'd envisioned them going together!  We figured them out fairly quickly, though, which was fortunate, since we never did find our notes that weekend.

The "Boom Times" in this post describe not thunderstorms, but the intense pace of work this week.  Starting Monday morning, we had someone working on the boat 8-5.  Ken final-fit, nailed, screwed and bunged the settee, and while he was at it, attached and bunged the fiddles on the table.  We had taken them off to refinish them just before Dan got sick and higher priorities prevailed, then more-or-less forgot about them.  Once we left Annapolis we no longer had the tools to reinstall them even if we had remembered.  But fiddles are handy for keeping dishes from sliding off flat surfaces while in rough conditions, so we were glad to have them back.  Then the relocated diesel heater was re-plumbed and after a few tense moments with Eric, Dan, and me all poring over the error codes listed in the user guide, primed and running.  Finally, now that we had good engine access, we were ready to tackle the guts of the job, the thing that had brought us here in the first place, changing the engine mounts to reduce vibration.  That job is being done by Tim, Ken's brother.  Yeah, small town and all that, I find it cool.  I think almost everyone who works in this yard has done at least something on our boat.
Ken again, showing the insulated ducting he's using to route the cold air from our relocated a/c. There are other improvements too -- instead of gravity-draining the water that has condensed onto the coils into the bilge, there is now a clever device that uses the Venturi effect to suck the condensation water out of the pan and discharge it overboard.  

The engine hoisted up a bit, suspended while the old mounts are replaced with new vibration-dampening ones.  Why do we need to do this?  Long ugly story, the short version is that when we replaced the old Westerbeke engine that was original to our boat with the present Yanmar about 10 years ago, the installer asked Dan to cut down the stringers so there would be enough height for the mounts.  Dan did so, laboriously, in the unheated engine room, in January, with hammer and chisel.  But when they then went to install the engine, the installer said, "Oops, never mind, I measured wrong, it won't fit after all, fill it back in and we'll just use regular mounts.  It'll just be a little more vibration, that's all." Well, of course it was more than a little vibration, and all that vibration equals more wear and tear on everything.  The change-out was going to be expensive, and in the meantime the boat was running okay, so we delayed.  Until now, when we had both money and time to do the job.  Plus, we would get to redesign the stairs to a more ergonomic style as a side benefit.  This year I had a decade birthday (the big 6-0) and we're both thinking ahead to be able to continue to live on the boat for many more years.

We think (hope?) next week the project will be finalized and we'll begin our trip south.  The engine mounts were half-finished by Friday afternoon, they should be complete Monday.  Then it's alignment, a regular engine service, some tweaks to the rudder, a few more details, a sea trial (or river trial, in this case) and we head south.  Just in time, too -- the sticky steamy still air that has been sitting over the town is gone, replaced this week with perfect temps and lively winds from the north.  Beautiful, but also reminders that in a month, those winds will feel chill and blustery instead of warm and lively.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Project Progress Weeks 3 and 4: Frustration, Then Cautious Optimism ... Then BOOM!

Week 3: Frustration When we got here, we told the boatyard not to make us an urgent priority because we couldn't go too far until hurricane season winds down.  They appreciated our schedule flexibility, but I don't think I had really internalized what "not going anywhere until hurricane season winds down" was going to feel like.  This week, the frustration level was bad.  We had a fun Labor Day weekend in town but as for progress, nothing.  Here's part of  a very long, very whiny email I wrote to some friends who I thought would be sympathetic:

So this is the downside of our living on a boat and traveling.
We've been living in a construction zone for the last month.  Our bedroom (v-berth) is trashed, full of displaced possessions from the lockers in the areas they are working.  So is the starboard half of the main cabin where the air conditioner is going.  We are living in what is left -- rather less than half of our already tiny living space, about 70 square feet, (6.5 square meters) sleeping on the equivalent of a foldout sofa in the living room, and we can't even go outside for relief, it's just too hot.  The air conditioner works, but it's sitting open in the main cabin and it's a constant noise in the background, we can't play music without having it at stupid volumes, and have to raise our voices to converse. We haven't had hot water since April, our "hot" water is the temperature of the harbor water we sit in (glad it isn't January!).  Everything is chopped up, torn apart, disassembled.  I am going crazy.  Once the boat projects are further along, there will be lots for us to do, sewing, and modifying the sofa cushions, and finding storage space for the things that were displaced for the new air conditioner location.  But right now there is nothing but waiting.  Dan can't do much either, he had surgery on his hand while we were in Annapolis in July and he's not allowed to use it for six weeks after the stitches have come out.  He's frustrated too.  We got snappy at each other, and thought we were drinking way too much.  We stopped drinking anything stronger than lemonade ... and we were still snappy at each other.  Dan pointed out, it's not about the alcohol, it's about our restlessness and frustration.  I told him I wanted to go home to Annapolis, or rent a cabin in Michigan, or buy an RV and go back to Colorado.  
Frustration: It feels like everything is cut up, torn apart, corroded, or broken.  

 Meanwhile, we're just living our everyday lives, slowing down our pace, and hanging out in a small town.  When you get down to it, this isn't a bad place to be stuck -- the town is very friendly, safe, and nice.  It reminds me of Northport, Michigan, our hailing port, or of a small town in the 1950s.  The cost of living is low and the produce in the local grocery store is very fresh ... but I just didn't understand what it would feel like to be in a cute small town for the entire summer.  It's about a 1-mile walk from the boatyard to ... anywhere: the grocery store, the little downtown, or the local beer and pizza hangout.  Not that we're walking anywhere real soon, its sticky hot and humid (low 30s C; 90-ish F) and my back has flared up again so I can't walk too much, nor can we use our scooters until my back calms, so we're pretty much trapped.

This is the best quality boatyard we've ever worked with, anywhere.  And when I look back at what we've gotten done so far, it's clear that things really have been happening, Week 8 that the boat has been here, Week 3 of project work.  The A/C is moved to its new spot, but the enclosure isn't built so its basically sitting in the middle of the living room, where one of the settees (sofas) is supposed to be.  The engine is accessible for the first time since we've owned the boat (big big BIG important improvement) and the stairs are moved to a new more ergonomic location, so we can continue to live on this boat well into our 70s.  A new, much better and safer fuel tank has been added for the diesel heater, which has also been relocated.  A new, small table or box has been added to house the air conditioner outlet. Still to come: fixing the hot water heater, adding ducting for the air conditioner, rebuilding the bench it's hidden under (can't be done until the ducting is in place), changing the engine mounts to reduce vibration, finishing the heater (currently scheduled for Monday).  Then we have to modify the upholstery, and re-stow all the possessions in the storage shed that were displaced in the move.

The upside is, we've become friendly with several of the boatyard guys.  There are nice people, and people you can learn new things from, everywhere.  And its always interesting to see people in another context, meet their families and see what they do in their spare time, see them around town, view them as whole people and not just boatyard workers who exist for our convenience. Steve, the refrigeration specialist who worked on our boat is from Boston and is restoring a classic old boat in his front yard, we're meeting him and his wife in town for coffee tomorrow morning.  Eric, the guy who has been doing spectacular work on the heater and will be working on the engine is a new dad (we met his 6-week-old daughter Cora earlier), plays in a local band and does a killer Johnny Cash cover, and breaks into a genuine smile every time he sees us around town outside of work.  The rigger introduced me to his girlfriend.  She's from Wisconsin, the opposite shore of Lake Michigan from our Northport; she in turn invited me to join the group of boating women who meet every first Friday for wine and potluck.  And not just the boatyard guys; we've gotten chatty with the guy who roasts coffee and sells it at the Saturday morning farmer's market, who calls his company "Nahala" (Inheritance) because it was started with money from his parents.  He told me they said they didn't want his dreams to wait until after they died, so they were giving him his inheritance now, sweet story.  We've gotten the rhythms of the town, know that Wednesdays are good for listening to live music, Thursday is the best day to visit the fishmonger Buddy, and Tuesday and Friday are the days fresh produce arrives at the local grocery store (which everyone calls "Ruth's" because they know its owner personally, rather than "the grocery store").

This town is lovely, the pace is predictable and relaxing, these people are so sweet and generous, all of this is nice. But we live on a boat because we want to be mobile, to travel and explore and see new things and be surprised and feel free. Instead here we are, trapped in one square mile.  Last week we got the dinghy in the water again and Dan took it out for a test ride, he came back saying, "even the dinghy thinks it's time to move on, it tried to go up on plane and sail across the river!"

So my whiny email continues:
This is the worst its ever been for me, in 13 years on the boat its the closest I've ever come to wanting to give up.  I won't, I know myself, and I know that even good lifestyles have bad days. "Counting my blessings," and posting gratitude challenges on Facebook, and reminding myself that others have less than me, and that "It's soooo hard getting good timely service on our yacht" really counts as a first-world problem, none of that works for me.  Knowing that we're in good hands, and we're doing smart things to make our boat better, works for the long term, but not for right now.  Just posted a photo of a glorious sunrise over Lake Michigan on my Facebook page.  Deciding that the good times are so good that they are worth the bad times, yeah, that works for me.
Okay, rant over.  Other than Dan, only you would understand.  Thanx.
What keeps us going, remembering the good times are so good they are worth the bad times.

Week 4: Optimism, then BOOM  My moods have been cycling wildly, and Week 3 they were definitely at low ebb.  But you know what happens after low tide?  That's right, the tide turns and rises again.  Low points are just that, low points, and after that things get better.

Week 4 started progress again, and my mood totally changed. The first priority ... we have hot water again, yay!  It took the better part of a day and the old element that was removed from the hot water heater was scarily corroded.  We always wonder, when parts like that are designed to be easily replaced, is it because the manufacturer knows they are going to fail?  What does that imply? Each day we saw more progress.  Next the diesel heater that heats the room air when we're at anchor was (mostly) connected, still waiting for one part. The ducting went in, and we could finally begin to put the starboard settee rebuilt and back together, and reclaim the cabin.

As the week wound down, I started to believe we'd be done with this chapter of the work, and we could spend the weekend modifying cushions and rearranging the main cabin. We had a pretty good idea of how we thought the settee could look and sketched out a list of dimensions of wood.  Mid-afternoon on Friday, under gray skies, the carpenter headed off to cut teak pieces with our list in hand.  I was even more optimistic, it didn't look like it would take long to put the pieces together and yes, we're going to make it, we'll finally get this part of the job wrapped up this afternoon in time for the weekend, then ... There was a massive BOOM of thunder and crack of lightning and it seemed almost as much rainwater above our boat as there was saltwater below it.  The rain was pouring down as we've seen in some waves.  Yard work was stopped.  Safety reasons if nothing else, can you imagine a guy working at the top of a mast in a lightning storm?  Or painting?  The rain would soak fresh-cut raw wood.  But ... but ... No! I can't believe it!  We were so close! Now the project was delayed until Monday! My mood came crashing down again.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Becoming Less Invisible

Anchored boats near Miami

Lots of chatter recently about Florida anchoring restrictions.  (A great summary of the first round of meetings was provided by SSCA, and Waterway Guide describes coordinated next steps)  There's a claim that the restrictions are about derelict vessels and local control, but it's pretty blatant pandering to a few wealthy waterfront property owners who just don't want boats to block their view.  (Scuttlebutt has it that one of the waterfront homeowners behind the pressure to ban anchoring told his congressperson that he was worried that the boats anchored behind his house were peering in his bedroom windows with their binoculars.  That's the kind of ridiculous defamation I want to educate people about.  Cruisers and liveaboards aren't all dropouts and losers and sketchy characters; in fact educating people about liveaboards was the original focus when I first started writing this blog for the Annapolis newspaper.  Most cruisers are no more likely to peer in your bedroom window than anyone else.  Less, really, because we have so many more interesting things to look at, like birds and fish and sunsets.)

Abandoned boats are a legitimate issue, and not just in Florida, although it does seem that Florida has some of the worst of it. The further north you go, the more the weather weeds out at least some of the marginal folks.  Sometimes well-intentioned boaters simply have a run of bad luck, but "Oops, my boat sank and I don't have the money to deal with it, so I'll walk away and let the taxpayers handle it" just doesn't cut it.  I've grumbled and blogged about anchoring rights before.  I've tried to explain that people who choose to live on boats often are ordinary people who do so because they want to live an unconventional life in touch with nature and the sea, with a series of profiles of liveaboards in Washington DC and Annapolis.  I've also wrestled with the fact that in trying to find a balance to address the anchored boats issue, there can be no perfect law that fits all cases.

A community that says, an anchored boat might become abandoned, and cleanup would be at public expense, therefore let's ban all anchoring, is anything but balanced.  There are better ways to protect waterways while encouraging maritime commerce. There are laws already on the books, and at least some cities are taking a tough stance, as recently happened to a boat owner in Annapolis who now is appealing a sentence of jail time if he doesn't address his sunken boat. In the Florida case, similarly, laws already exist that could be used; not to mention the dubious legality of claiming control over public waterways for the benefit of (who or what, exactly?) as is articulated in this* great letter to the Florida FWC from a lawyer who also happens to be a liveaboard boater.  Further, an analysis of available data on derelict boats in Florida suggests that most of them are unlikely to be cruising boats, and in fact a good percentage of them are abandoned in marina slips and not at anchor at all.

With all this contentious background, I had a fascinating e-chat with a cruising friend last month.  She told the story of someone she knew who was just starting out cruising, who wondered whether to skip Florida altogether, due to all the hassle of anchoring regulations.  The new cruiser's idea of skipping the state sparked an idea. "What about a total boycott?" my friend wondered.  What if it was organized by a big boating group, and had lots of media attention and a letter of intent that says none of us are going to spend money in Florida with our boats until you get some balance on this anchoring issue?  How would the retailers react if they didn't have the winter money coming in?

"My fear about a boycott is that even if it was conducted perfectly, it still wouldn't have much impact," I responded, and she sadly agreed.  The cruising community is really tiny compared with the total tourist economy.  And we're a bit of a captive audience, there aren't a lot of warm sunny options on the East Coast without passing through Florida.  But here's where her conversation led me full circle, right back to why I started this blog.  Boycotts are about customers you have taken for granted suddenly deliberately becoming invisible. "Maybe the opposite of a boycott,"  I wondered.  "What if we were all very visible?  Merchants, other than boatyards and marinas, don't realize that some of their customers are cruisers, because we just look (and are) like everybody else.  What if we tried a little harder to let the people we encounter while we are spending money (restaurants, bookstores, wherever we go) know that we are visiting by boat?  This serves two purposes: it helps them realize that most of us are just ordinary, polite customers, not rebels and dropouts and vagrants as portrayed by the homeowner with the dubious "Peeping Tom" fears, and it helps them realize that they are getting more money from us than they think?"

So that's what I'm going to do.  Make sure that, in the course of spending money in town, I chat with merchants, and waiters and service people, and if I can work it naturally into the conversation, I'll let them know that we're visiting by boat.  Be more visible, not invisible.  Side benefit, if I have incentive to chat with more strangers, who knows what other interesting people I'll meet?

PS: Of course, the other thing I'm going to do is comment to FWC and my legislator.  You can submit comments to FWC here.

PPS: The very articulate letter I mentioned above isn't (yet) available anywhere I can link to, it's only on SSCA's Facebook page, so here it is in its entirety (reprinted with permission):

To: Captain Gary Klein, FWC

From: John R. (Jay) Campbell, JD, 

Dear Captain Klein:

I am a Florida Licensed Attorney, with over 25 years of practice in the State. I have owned many residential properties, including waterfront property in Tampa, as recently as 2013 when my wife and I moved full time on to our boat in Palmetto. We reside at a Marina, but often cruise Southwest Florida and Southeast Florida, anchoring as is prudent, dictated by weather, tide, travel schedules and the need to rest.

I have read and completely oppose the proposed FWC restrictions on anchoring in "concept 2" related to establishing setbacks from residential property. These proposals seem designed to benefit only a few wealthy landowners at the expense of the public's right to use and enjoy these waters, as established by the federal public trust. The proposals do NOT set forth any concerns or problems the proposals are designed to address, nor do they note any review done by the FWC to ensure the setbacks are a reasonable response to any such problems. Therefore, the proposed setbacks are not reasonable encroachment of the public rights, and are illegal. 

Regarding the set back proposals, I note the following in support of all boaters, and voters, who also oppose these proposed restrictions:
1. Where are the studies FWC has done or reviewed to support the proposed 150' or 300' anchoring set backs?
2. Where are the concerns, set out in writing, that FWC is attempting to address with these setbacks?
3. Where are the legal opinions that these proposed setbacks are lawful, and not an illegal encroachment on the federal regulation of waterways as a public trust?
4. If the concern is derelict boats, or stored boats, why doesn't the proposal state so, and tailor a proposal to this more narrow concern, rather than prohibit EVERY boat from anchoring?
5. If the concern is the potential discharge of sewage, why doesn't the proposal state so, and tailor a proposal to this more narrow concern, rather than prohibit EVERY boat from anchoring?
6. If the concern is a reasonable amount of unencumbered room for landowners to use near their docks and access channels, why doesn't the proposal state so, and tailor a proposal to this more narrow concern (for example, using a common standard of 1 1/2 times boat length from the protected structure) rather than prohibit EVERY boat from anchoring?
7. Regarding the proposal to return regulation, in part, back to small local governments, why does this proposal suggest that FWC should administer a program which will allow every municipality to apply for and create it's own anchoring rules, thereby turning Florida into a patchwork quilt of regulations without a sound basis, or statewide enforcement?

The proposals seem to be unlawful, poorly thought out, against the interest of Florida citizens who are boaters, against the interests of Florida businesses which cater to boaters, and in support of ONLY a few wealthy landowners, represented by legislators who control the FWC funding. This is not how laws and regulations should be developed and implemented to support the public interest. - Jay Campbell, JD