Florida's Epidemic of Derelict Boats

Florida is ground-zero for the "anchoring wars."  These controversial measures limit the rights of boat owners to navigate and anchor freely on the state's waterways, which, of course, are public.  When this first became an issue more than two decades ago, it seemed to be a pretty clear case of NIMBYism.  Wealthy waterfront homeowners didn't want their views spoiled by anchored boats.  But the problem has grown into a legitimate issue.  The number of neglected and abandoned boats has reached epidemic proportions in Florida.  It seems that everywhere you look along the Florida coast, you see boats sunken in anchorages and driven up onto the shore.  From where we anchored one night off of Bethune Point in Daytona, we could see no less than 14 wrecks.  And if you look around the anchorages, marinas, and boatyards in Florida, you see a large number of boats that are severely neglected, just waiting to become future wrecks.  For years, we've simply referred to such hard-looking vessels as "Florida boats."  

So why is the derelict boat problem so much worse in Florida than in most other coastal states?  It seems to us that there are multiple drivers: 

1.  Lots of boats. There are more than a million boats registered in Florida.  And if you look at the home ports written on the sterns of boats in marinas and anchorages, you'll see that an awful lot are from out of state.  (Just like our boat.)  So the actual number of boats in Florida is likely much higher than a million.   

2. Many novice boaters.  One in every 20 Florida residents owns a boat.  On average, 3,000 people move to Florida every day.  Most of these people move close to the coast.  A lot of them think: "You know, I've always wanted to have a boat."  So some of these transplants buy a boat, which is often their first boat, first large boat, first boat on the ocean, or first boat moored in a hurricane zone.  Some of these novice mariners have no idea how to maintain their boats and become discouraged when they learn how much work and money it requires (even for a brand new boat).  In many cases, their interest in the boat evaporates quickly.  Or, another thing that happens with surprising regularity in Florida is that the boat owner becomes ill or dies.  They don't call Florida "God's Waiting Room" for nothing.  After the owner is gone, their family may have no interest or ability to deal with the boat. 

3. Schizophrenic weather.  Florida's weather is characterized by long periods of relative tranquility, punctuated by brief episodes of fury.  Thunder storms, tropical storms, hurricanes, and winter cold fronts wreak havoc. The tranquil weather lulls people into a false sense of security. 

4. Year-round boating.  Because the weather is warm enough for boating year-round, there isn't an annual haulout season, and a lot of boats go for long periods between haulouts, leading to "deferred maintenance."  Contrast this with boats in the north, which are in the water for less than six months out of the year, allowing time for maintenance.  This also means that every fall, harbor masters in northern ports get a chance to easily identify derelict boats.  If all the boats in a harbor are hauled out in October, except for one, then the harbor master has a chance to track down that owner and deal with that one boat before it sinks and causes problems.  In Florida, it's more difficult to identify newly-abandoned boats, the numbers of which keep increasing over time. 

5. Lack of harbor masters.  Love'em or hate'em, most New England ports have harbor masters; one local authority whose sole responsibility is to know everything that's going on in their harbor.  Ports in Florida are patrolled by law enforcement officers from the state's Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission and, in some cases, by local law enforcement (whose efforts seem sporadic at best).  Their mandates are broader, their jurisdictions are geographically larger, and the number of boats using their waterways are much higher than what marine law enforcement agencies face in other states.  So they don't have the time or resources needed to do the type of community policing that is required to identify and deal with every problem boat.  

6. Housing insecurity.  The fact is that Florida has a huge number of homeless people and others who are on the margins of society.  For many of these people, living on a boat is an attractive option.  They can buy a boat for next to nothing (they're not sailing or cruising so they often don't care if the engine works, it has any sails, or the rigging is sound) or they can simply squat in an abandoned boat.  They can then anchor out for free; no mortgage, no rent. And being far away from other people means that they generally won't be bothered by anyone. There are many nice people in this group.  But there are also a lot of damaged people with addictions and all of the problems that follow.  For example, when we lived in Sarasota in the 2000s, there was a growing population of liveaboards on ramshackle boats in the local anchorage.  These boats, for the most part, were incapable of moving anywhere and definitely were not pumping out their wastewater.  Due to all the raw sewage from these boats going directly into Sarasota Bay, several people in the area contracted hepatitis A.  During that same period, we had two nice sea kayaks stolen from our backyard.  We found both of the kayaks a few days later tied to some very rough-looking boats in the anchorage. (This is a funny story in itself, the moral of which is never steal a boat from people who work on the water.  Also, never cross Janet; she will hunt you down like a bloodhound.)  These are the types of societal problems that accompany derelict boats.  Not surprisingly, these decrepit boats in the anchorage suffered very high rates of grounding and sinking every time the wind blew.  To be clear, there are plenty of nice, well-maintained yachts that sink or get blown ashore.  But for a lot of boats, the path to dereliction begins with neglect. 

You may not be able to tell from this shot, but the mainsail on this boat is a (very expensive) laminate racing sail, neatly flaked on the boom (perhaps put back on the boat after the storm?).  The fancy mainsail and other equipment onboard indicates that this was a well-cared for racing boat.  It, and the other boats shown in this post, probably came ashore during Hurricane Ian (Sept 2022) or Hurricane Nicole (Nov 2022).

So what's the big deal?  Does it really matter if there are derelict boats littering the shoreline?  These wrecks are more than just an eyesore; they're an environmental hazard.  They physically damage sensitive sea grass beds, mangrove forests, and coral reefs, all of which provide vital ecological services.  And each of these wrecks contains toxic petroleum (tanks of fuel and oil), heavy metals (batteries and antifouling paint), and lots and lots of plastic.  If you are concerned about plastics in the environment, then all of these fiberglass (aka plastic) boats breaking apart should alarm you. 

This 42-foot Endeavor ketch was well-loved by someone.  That custom-welded stainless steel solar arch/pushpit/dinghy davit is a work of art and appears to be brand new.  The canvas also looked nice (at least before the storm beat it to death).   

Why don't "they" just clean up the mess and haul these boats away?  The short answer is because it's expensive and logistically difficult.  The boat owner is legally responsible for paying for the cleanup.  But, often the owner can't be identified, is financially incapable of covering the costs, or has passed over the rainbow bridge.  Many of the boats are uninsured and sometimes the owners go to great lengths to remove all identification markings (e.g., name, home port, registration/documentation #, hull ID #, and engine serial #) so they can't be held responsible.  This puts the burden of cleanup on local governments, and the costs for a community to clean up the derelict boats after a storm can run into the millions of dollars.  But the first hurdle faced by a local government or waterfront property owner wanting to get rid of a boat cast ashore is the fact that it is someone else's property.  That boat, even if it is a wreck, has a legal owner somewhere and it may have some value.  By carting it away (which usually involves demolition), you are taking and destroying someone's property.  "Salvage rights" are not so simple.  Taking someone else's property is kind of a big deal in our country, so the legal system intentionally makes it a difficult process.   

It's clear that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.  But many of the preventive measures taken by Florida and some of its local municipalities have seemed like harassment and a violation of boaters' rights to navigate public waterways (rights guaranteed in the Commerce Clause of the U.S. Constitution).  There have been limits to the amount of time a boat can remain anchored in one place, prohibitions on anchoring in certain areas, and prohibitions on living aboard boats in certain areas.  Several cases have wound up in court, with some local anchoring ordinances being found to be arbitrary and capricious, or just plain unconstitutional. 

One afternoon when we were out for a ride in our dinghy, we came upon this scene of a derelict boat being plucked from the shore.  It was an impressive, sad sight.  This is about the easiest cleanup one can imagine.  The boat came to rest on the shore of a public park, right next to a boat ramp, so access was easy.  And the boat itself was on the smaller side (a 28-31' sloop, looks like a Hunter).  The boat was to be loaded onto that flatbed trailer you see being towed by that white truck on the right. 

The crane struggled mightily to pick up the boat.  As the crane backed up slowly toward the trailer, the operator had to stop occasionally to deploy the stabilizer legs so it wouldn't tip over.  This sort of work takes nerves of steel or brains of rock.  The boat was far too large to lay on the trailer on its side.  So the crew commenced chopping it up with chainsaws.  The first thing they tried to cut off was the rudder.  Word of caution to anyone attempting this sort of operation in the future: the internal structure of a rudder is stainless steel, which chainsaws do not like.  

So what's the solution?  We won't even pretend to know the answers, other than to say it's complicated.  This issue involves a conflict between the rights of individuals to use public waterways and the ability of a community to safeguard its citizens and its environment.  It also pits the private property rights of the boatowners against those of the waterfront land owners (who tend to be very wealthy and politically well-connected).  And it is intimately linked to housing insecurity, one of the most pernicious, stubborn problems in our society. It is  obvious that addressing homelessness has to be part of the strategy.   

The problem of derelict boats will probably never be solved completely in Florida.  But the current situation is unsustainable, both economically and ecologically, and has to be brought under control.  Boaters who simply want state and local governments in Florida to take an entirely hands-off approach are being unrealistic, in our view.  But the focus must be on environmental protection, public health & safety, and preservation of constitutional rights to free navigation, not on NIMBYism.  There has to be some give and take.  In other words, we need actual governance.       

This boat came to rest about 30 feet from the Endeavor pictured above and about 200 yards from the boat that was chopped up and carted away.  There are at least a half-dozen more wrecked boats within a mile of this spot.