Sarasota Laundry Blues

Go figure that I got too busy to write a blog entry at one of my cooler destinations, St. Petersburg municipal marina. Hey wait it would appear that I forgot to write about Sarasota. Except right now I want to write about my present sea state, which is rough. The winds have been blowing out of the NE all day, and sailflow has been correct that the winds are 15-20 kts. Tampa bay had a moderate chop that made steering hard. However now I’m inside a Pringles can being shaken around. I had to eat something, and it’s too rough to prepare much so I finally busted out the mountain house packets that Chiung gave me. And she gave them for just these seas. I would prefer to stay out of the north Gulf in anything above 15 kts from now on, but the silver lining is that all the way out of Tampa bay and all day I’ve been making 6.5-7 kts. The motion got a bit too intense with the big jib, frequently hitting 7.3 kts. That’s too much excitement, so I traded the big jib for the little one, and I’m still pushing 6.5-7 kts. There are a lot of mechanisms that make the boat work, and I can hear the noise of me testing all of them. I really hope I don’t have a failure. At least the moon is out. I didn’t write about Sarasota because I had just visited this exact same locale with my mom when I visited her on motorcycle. What I can say is that motoring northward through Venice on a weekend was quite the busy spectacle. However, after 7 hours of motoring what I should have done is immediately gone to eat. At least I had the forethought to take a long hot shower at the marina. Instead of dinner I decided to do laundry, and what shouldn’t have taken very long turned into a 3 hour affair. Finally at 8pm I had a rumbling stomach and was downright annoyed with life. I found a Thai place and had a good if expensive dinner, then I trotted 2 miles across town to visit Publix. Like a crazy person, I bought way too much stuff and then had to carry it all back to the boat. Once I got back to the boat around 9:30 I was beat after pushing myself too hard. The next day I should have relaxed, but I was upset with Sarasota and the mooring ball fee was 26.50 a night which was more than I wanted to pay again. So I woke early and headed off towards the St Pete Muni marina. This time it was a short 4 hour motor, but another 1.5 hours was wasted in pumping out the poop tank and then going through the formalities of a ball. I then showered and trotted off through the city. St Pete is really cool, and there’s a lot of stuff to do there. I found another Thai restaurant and ordered “Amazing” a chicken and shrimp dish with peanut sauce that was amazing. I wandered north through a park that had about 100 homeless people camped out, which was pretty crazy. It was getting near sunset and the weight of so many days of motion was beginning to bear on me. I had a quiet evening on the boat trying to relax and enjoy my situation. The next day, Monday, was lovely with perfect weather. I promised to take it really easy this day so I woke up at 9, didn’t poke my head out of the boat until 10. I went to shore and took a shower, then I wandered up and down the street a bit. I was watching the sailors at the marina and it was a lovely day for a sail, so I kitted out the dinghy and took it for a wet and rocky ride that actually curbed my sailing enthusiasm quite a bit. Now it was time for another shower, and then I set to preparing dinner for some friends from high school. I had intended to go to the Dali museum but I supposed that could wait. I prepared a lovely dinner of the remainder of that amberjack with adobo green beans and rice, and we sat and drank wine and talked about old times. Tuesday I hand grand intentions of exploring the town, including the MFA and Dali museum, but naturally I can’t go the whole trip with perfect weather. Tuesday was a constant drizzle, with several bouts of more serious rain that seriously put a damper on my exploratory spirit. Instead I sat and read from my new Kindle, like all day. Every time I went out the rain would get more serious. I finally went to shore to drop opff garbage and take a shower during a brief respite, and then the rain started earnestly as I was halfway to the dinghy dock. Well you get the idea. Furthermore I was anticipating leaving Wed morning, so I took it easy Tuesday. And I guess it’s a good thing I took some time to rest in St Pete, because now the waves are really trying. I know I won’t be able to sleep much at all tonight. The weather forecast this morning indicated that the wind and thereafter the waves wouild slack off into Thursday. I had my hopes up for a Friday morning Landfall. Right now at the speeds I’ve been making landfall is predicted at 4AM. So I certainly hopwe I get a bit of a reprieve. This is a bit much, and I just don’t have experience in these kinds of rough seas. The deck is fully soaked by the sloppy seas that crash against my bow and occasionally explode into the air. The cockpit is also decently wet, and if I have to do any deck work tonight I’ll have to don full foul weather gear or else I will be a cold, wet and unhappy sailor. At least I can say the air is a pleasant 67F. I really appreciate the moon out there, because the old man forsake me for most of the trip. Really, in situations like this I just try and spend the time until morning. I don’t feel like reading, and the boat’s motion makes doing anything quite difficult.

What would the prudent sailor do?

How many of you out there experience self doubt? I’m not talking about second-guessing of the milder type; I’m talking about paralyzed by indecisions based on fears and anxiety that like all things in this world only truly exist within our minds? This doubt exists to no one but us, and yet to our own mind it is an all-encompassing concern that eclipses the majority of other things much more important in our lives. In today’s case, the question that is the fulcrum of this debate is “should I stay or should I go”? Contributing to these mal feelings are the thoughts that I knew the tides of this area and the depths of my anchorage. A prudent mariner discovers the swing of the water just as a prudent lover understands the ways of a loved one. Not to say that I am either, mind you, but at least I have a comprehension of good vs. bad. So, a prudent mariner would have understood his precarious nature, being anchored in a very shallow basin subject to a 3’ tidal swing. Whilst he be happily anchored for the time being, he might just have forethought that on the morrow he wishes to depart toward foreign lands far away, and it would be most pleasant indeed if he did not become a temporary fixture of the landscape, forced to wait until the sun and moon freed him from his earthly bonds. Indeed, this prudent mariner would consider the time of highest tide to be at 3:30pm in the full light of day, and he would slip out of the anchorage and place himself in the best position to take advantage of the swing and not be encumbered by thoughts of self-doubt as to the likelihood and consequences of escaping the shallows which so plague deep-bodied sailors. Likely, this mariner would have moved no more than ½ a mile from where I found myself this morning and he would have set off with nary a thought. Unfortunately, I don’t know this fellow of whom I speak, there is only myself who is seldom prudent nor proactive, but I certainly contain all the anxieties to cover up for my lack. Given that I woke at 0630, and low tide is at 0930, and high tide isn’t until 1545, this puts me deep into the ebb tide, and the waters are lower than when I fought myself into this bay. So deep was my apprehension towards moving that I convinced myself that the best course of action was none other than inaction. At the appointed time of high slack tide, I would then follow the recourse of the prudent mariner, having by now deciphered what it is that chap would do. His ostensible actions would be my own, and I would have lost a day to lazing about the boat for my poor choices, and I would be the wiser for it. However I never claim to make sense to myself, and I delight in my capricious nature, so instead of allowing fear to cripple me I decided to challenge it head-on. The noisy mechanical sail is initiated, and the anchor is risen, halleluiah. I creep my way towards the only egress this pond has, and I eagerly watch the depth finder while waiting for the tell-tale deceleration of a grounding. Like a day-trader watching the peaks and valleys for loss or gain, I was affixed to the numerals as they held direct sway over my emotions. Very soon now I would be free or held firm, and my own self to blame either way. As I passed the first sandbar I felt elation that the water had reached 7’ depth, could I perhaps have been wrong on the tides? Then stern consternation told me once again to trust my instruments as the depth decreases to nary a few inches of free water beneath my keel. This drama played out again and again as I slowly traversed over sand waves until my heart, having traveled from my throat to my stomach a decade of times issued a declaration that enough was enough. Like Luke, I would blind myself to distractions and use the force to guide myself to the freedom of the open sea. It was indeed tempting to look at the display to divine my future, but past performance is no indicator of future results. Instead I espied the subtle variations of color in the water attempting to discern the deepest and darkest portions which would be my most likely indicators of freedom. I began to pass the last sand bar and felt that freedom would at least be mine. Alas, but I am mortal and peeked at the indicator which exhibited contradictory evidence. My heart tied in knots in my chest, I looked onward, convinced once again to trust in my experience and accept failure when it comes. Perhaps the proper consideration should have been IF disaster comes, because it didn’t happen. For all my anxiety, for my consideration of scrapping the day to wait for the safer alternative, disaster did not befall me. As I entered the dredged channel I was filled with a giddy excitement that I could only satisfy with some physical activity, so the main is raised. I was even more delighted to see my GPS speed over ground pushing me far in excess of the vessel’s capabilities. In fact I hit a decent record high of 8 kts, my reward for being stalwart in my beliefs that good would prevail over evil. Despite my failings as a prudent mariner, luck would be on my side and I would indeed leave this foreign harbor with the only incident being wholly within my mind. It is possible that I should have a lesson learned from this episode, but which lesson is it? Should I have forethought as to what the prudent mariner would do and then take action to follow his examples, or should I do as I will and hope to luck while accepting the consequence? It is apparent that I cannot control the vagaries of my emotional mind, but I must never let fear be my guide to the point that it controls me. Had I done so, I would still be sitting at anchor, biding my time for action instead of enjoying a fresh breeze and flat seas pushing me ever onward towards my destination.

Three bad jokes

My trip has definitely taken a turn. The whole southerly portion kept me away from humanity to a great extent, but now I’m in boat central. At least 60 boats have been anchored in Pelican Bay today. This is a very popular spot! After breakfast I loaded my as-yet unused folding bicycle into the dinghy and went over to the state park. There I met a couple that was being seen off by a flock of onlookers. I understood that I was witnessing an event, and asked around. This couple, a Quebecan man in his mid-40s and his wife who was very attractive and looked no more than 25, had kayaked down the Tennessee-Tom Bigby waterway from the great lakes. They are on their way through the thousand islands in the everglades and on into the Keys. They want to make Dry Tortugas before turning around and going up the east coast to finish before next winter. These are serious travelers whose exploits far exceed anything that I’ve ever done. This was an incredible sounding trip, and to think that gentleman has such a lovely companion. To top it off they had a 40 pound wolf dog with them. Fantastic! I acquired some local knowledge through the circuitous path of asking a park ranger with a sense of humor. I had to tell him three bad jokes and listen to more of his before it could be made understood that I should avoid the south end of the island on my bike, but have fun up north. I set off listening to tunes from my cell and had a great ride all over the island. I made a few calls and had an on-the-fly job interview. We’ll see if anything comes of that. At lunchtime I headed back to the boat for turkey leftovers. I’m getting antsy already, feeling like it’s time to move again. I tried looking on the internet on my phone to learn about cool places to go while I’m here but it’s so hard to get the right answers from google. I guess it’s time to go talk to people. I hopped in the dinghy and waved down an older couple belonging to a Gemini Catamaran in their dinghy. Once they understood that I didn’t need mechanical assistance (I rowed over to them) they explained to me all the locally good cruising locations. So, rather than waste another day, next stop Sarasota and Marina Jack’s!

Warm Christmas in Pelican Bay with Friends

Merry Christmas from Anchor! This has been my first Christmas ever sitting on the hook, and certainly one of the best! I generally dislike the holiday, especially the way the media crams holiday cheer into your head starting at Halloween, bah humbug! But this year was a delightfully positive experience, and I even tuned my Ham radio into an AM station to listen to the cheery music. I had a date set to have dinner with my friends on Rikava, and I was on the hook to provide baked sweet potatoes, so I dutifully started cooking them. However as I looked in my larder I had several apples which were going south, and I decided to make some cinnamon spiced apples. As a last extra goodie I had a recipe for Bahama bread that turned out great. The bahama bread’s dough is more like thick pancake batter as it’s leavened with baking powder, and it doesn’t need to be knead. The combination of these desserts made my boat smell so good that I had bees visiting to find the sweetness. It smelled so good that I think I’ll have to add the baked apples in particular to my favorites list if only for the way they make the boat smell! The anchorage really filled up, and I was pleased to see that most of the boats were really expensive and nice. Half of the sailboats were catamarans, and it was lovely to see so many families enjoying the holiday on the hook. I twisted my own arm to do the chore that I really wanted to avoid which involved getting wet. I steeled myself and put on my wetsuit. Considering that nobody was anchored within 500’ of me, I just wore the wetsuit naked: my speedo has holes in it anyway. And I jumped in! Not too cold, just enough to elicit some uncontrollable shaking and clenching of all muscles. Let me tell you, I had pumped myself up to do battle which could be none other than the dreaded polypropylene lobster trap rope. Visibility was poor and I anticipated eager hacking and sawing at the tenacious stuff. I had my scuba knife at the ready, and I dove under. I swam through the murk and the beast appeared before me. I raised my sabre with one arm, ready to deal a mighty blow to the offender, and with the other hand I grasped the tightly woven rope and… pulled it cleanly off the prop with no effort. What? That was easy. I had time left on my breath to ensure the prop feathered as it was supposed to and that no lasting damage was done, and I flaked off a few barnacles but quickly decided my job was done. That was almost not worth getting wet for. While I was in the water I did a swim around but this revealed nothing new, so I gladly hopped out to dry off, strip, and take a hot shower that I had preheated the water for. There was only a slight problem. While I was swimming, a beautiful 46’ catamaran had anchored about 100’ along my side, and it was loaded with a family of about 12 whose primary discussion evidently focused on the young man who had for some unbeknownst reason decided to go swimming in this cold water. This man was also very naked under his wetsuit and wanting to get the cold stuff off and run into the shower. So I did what anyone who believes life is short, sail naked does. I just took the wetsuit off giving them a brief instant of full moon and then dashed inside the boat to take my shower. I did note there were no children onboard, as some people are sensitive to such things. The police never showed up, so hopefully I just gave the family something interesting to talk about. Not long after my shower I dinghy’d over to Rich and Cathy’s Rikava and had a wonderful meal. Cathy did a fantastic job in particular because all of her dishes had to fight for the same limited acreage inside her boat’s oven. It was a great dinner, and we chatted boat stuff until it was time for me to return. The turkey hit me, and I was asleep by 8pm.

Boca Grande entrance

So I have arrived at Port Charlotte, and I started entering Boca Grande, the name of the pass, at about 7 this morning. Since the wind started Tuesday afternoon, it slowly intensified overnight until at the time I was entering it had built to 15-20 kts. I flew wing and wing with the main and the drifter almost all the way here, and about 10nm out I had to tack back in on a broad reach. The intensified winds were really too much for the drifter, so I was faced with a task that I otherwise hate which is bringing the drifter down in high winds. Did I mention 3-5’ seas and pitch darkness? I was a champ though, using the main to shadow the drifter, my one working spreader light, and a headband mounted light I got the drifter on deck in about a minute. Due to the fog and circumstances, the sail was wet, and I doused it with a good bit of seawater. I’ll have to find a time to dry the thing out else I’ll have a very stinky sail. After I got it doused under those circumstances I was quite proud of myself for doing so without any cursing or other oopsies. I quickly unrolled the big jib and chugged into the channel at full heel and also full speed. It was at this point I realized that the lobster trap had done some sort of damage to my Max Prop. It would no longer ‘feather’ and hence wants to spin while sailing. It had been creating drag the entire trip from the bay of Florida after I shut the engine down, but I only now realized it. I also discovered that putting the engine in reverse will kill it. I’m hoping that just a bit of rope is snagged up in the prop and that no metal is bent, otherwise repairs might be costly. That’s a 3000$ propeller, and issues like this reinforce my desire to replace it with a Campbell Sailor according to KISS principles. Anyway I sailed up all the way into Boca Grande fighting a mean 2kt current which met the south-westerly waves face-on. This caused the waves to steepen and break, which meant for an overall unpleasant ride. I opted to hand steer as the autopilot was fighting too hard, and I gave myself a strenuous whole-body workout contending with the extreme pitching of the boat and fighting the wheel. I did my best to balance the sails but the steep chop was a tough thing to fight against. The cost of failure was evident on both sides of the pass. Giant spumes of spray careened off of hidden underwater breakers and shoals. In case I didn’t have charts, that’s nature’s way of saying don’t go there if you want to live. It was actually quite an impressive and awe-inspiring sight to see the 7’ wave that just broke on my stern amble onward another 150’ and then explode against submarine rocks, filling the air with liquid destruction. It’s at times like these I really don’t want a steering, or any other failure. Otherwise my boat will earn the mark of bones on a chart like so many others, and I would be locky to escape unscathed. Needless to say I was the only one foolish enough to be entering under such conditions. As I came further in much to my delight the upwind rocks of Johnson Shoal shattered the trains of waves leaving me in flat water to contend with what had become 20kt winds with gusts to 25. I got myself in none to soon, and it would be getting nastier offshore. I called Derek and got local knowledge regarding how to navigate Pelican Pass into Pelican Bay. Apparently I had to follow a beach about 25’ away in water just deep enough to navigate in. By now I had lowered sails and was motoring, but it was nerve-wracking, as it was one of the lowest tides making ingress tight. As I was sailing in somebody called for the Tardis. Who knows of the Tardis and its Doctor in these parts? It turned out to be Rich and Cathy Vandenberg, they had been one of the sailboats that wasn’t anchored up in the tight bay because he didn’t want to risk the inevitable bump-aground that occurs with lack of local knowledge. They left from my dock 5 days before me, but they had taken a leisurely route that avoided all the offshore overnight madness that I had subjected myself to. They have invited me to join them for a Christmas dinner, for which I’ll prepare some sweet potatoes. It’s good to meet friends in unexpected places. After anchoring initially, I showered, cooked breakfast, and went to sleep. I slept until 1PM and then re-anchored in a better situation and now I can think about things. I already like this place better. The anchorage is big enough for 100 boats, but there’s only 6 or 7 scattered about. There’s land access to a big state park (Cayo Costa Island) that I will certainly take advantage of tomorrow morning. I’m in an area that’s not too shallow, the holding is plain sand and good, so overall I’m happy with life. I’ll hang out here until at least after Christmas, then I’ll head up into the bay to see what else this area has to offer. Also, I have to schedule a dive trip to see what the deal is with my propeller, which I hope is nothing expensive.

Bay of Florida Blues

View Larger Map What was I saying about the world being small at 100 miles a day? Sometimes I make myself feel foolish. The weather man has fooled me once again. He lulled me into thinking it would be an easy sail across the bay of Florida. Indeed, it would be if I were willing to devote a week or more to it. Last night I made a lovely dinner of spicy beef bulgogi and rice. Almost all my fresh veggies are long gone, so until I can get to a grocer it will be frozen or canned. Perhaps I was too hasty in leaving Marathon, and I should have taken some time for a resupply trip. Well no matter now. As I typed the previous entry last night I was ghosting along at 3 kts under the drifter. Once again I am in want of a bigger light air sail. Anyway, that was 3kts total, but 1.5 was current and the other 1.5 was from the sail. I fought all night in glassy waters to just get the autopilot to maintain steerage. I would curse it, but after I turned it off I found it very hard to control the boat myself. The 15kts of wind after 10pm never materialized, instead it was a ghost of 3kts or so, barely enough to move under. Due to the extreme proliferation of lobster traps I wouldn’t dare start the motor. The lobstermen, sensing that little traffic takes place on that side of the water, dropped their traps in such a thicket that it would be tough to steer in daylight. So I drifted with the tide until it was neap, and I was chagrined to watch my speed drop to less than 1kt. The good news was that the seas were glass flat, without even a ripple of wind, so the going was soundless and smooth. I rested into the evening, but by 12AM it was obvious that the sails and drifter and tide were unevenly matched, and the boat was sailing backward on the lobster traps while still pointing forward. This was my cue to very swiftly drop first the anchor then the drifter. I didn’t bother to set the anchor very well. I wouldn’t go far, and the ocean bottom out here is uniformly flat and very shallow, about 10ft. This allowed me to get a decent bit of sleep, but by 5am I was up and wondering what next. The seas were still flat and dead calm, with the same whisper of wind, but the tides had started to reverse. I mused that I could get to my destination simply be timing my anchoring with the tides, and I calculated a 12 day journey if I did so. It’s always good to have a plan B. Instead I started to sail to find to my dismay that with drifter and tides I was still making less than 2.5 kts, so I resolved myself to give my engine a good test of it’s metal today, but only after breakfast and coffee. So that’s what I’ve been doing since about 7:30, watching for lobster traps and reading. The seas have picked up a tad as I moved into deeper water, now 5 fathoms or so. The traps have thinned out a good bit, and with the mild chop this is much better than the trip from the Tortugas to the Marquesas, but still It’s a bummer to rely on the engine so much. I’ll motor until sunset then attempt to sail. At this rate I might make it to Port Charlotte if I motor all Wednesday, but I might not have the stomach for that. Wednesday night the cold front is supposed to roll through bringing spirited winds from the North-NorthWest, At these depths I doubt it could get really nasty, but it’s possible a swell from the gulf could upset the seas and maybe ruin my day. To get over the noise of the engine, which really wears on you pretty quickly, I am wearing my Bluetooth headset and cranking the music. It’s kind of not good, as I can judge the health of the engine and boat in general from sound. Ocassionally the music I listen to will make a noise that will freak me out, or the bass will couple with the vibrations and I think something is wrong. Hopefully the motor stays functional, I’m not very interested in plan B. I haven’t seen many other boats out here. Earlier I was passed at quite close quarters by a 60’ motoryacht, with a hired crew by the uniforms. I would have preferred if they kept their distance and didn’t wake me out in otherwise smooth water. Can you guess who else is out here? Lobster boats! I’ve seen 4 already. And I’ve seen quite a few sea turtles. I came right up to spitting distance of a huge leatherback, maybe 8’ long. I expected him to dive under but he might have been a bit deaf and blind. It wasn’t until I had passed him that he saw me and dove beneath. I just came into a particularly thick patch of lobster traps, and I wasn’t paying enough attention as I was typing. By the time I noticed and told the autopilot to steer I hit one which made a shimmy as the prop destroyed the floating Styrofoam ball, but thankfully didn’t suck up the line. My propeller is particularly suited to sucking up lines due to its design. Before I had steered back I had hit a second one, again producing a slurry of Styrofoam but doing me no damage. For the next 15 minutes I had to hand steer because the traps were so thick. The traps are certainly an annoying aspect of navigating down here. I am tired of motoring and the dodge-the-traps game, but if I want to make any distance then I have to keep the monster running. I would like to take some time to write my science fiction stories, but it’s hard to concentrate on whatever I’m writing while looking up every 30 seconds to check for traps.

Impulsive decisions for the better

I don’t quite know how to explain my emotions or thought processes, and without those it might be tough to understand my impulsive reactions, but I’ll try to paint a picture. First, my idea of a fun cruising local is pretty stuff under the water, a protected and safe anchorage without too many neighbors, and things to do on land with easy access. Thus far, the keys have shown none of this to me, so I’m a little upset thus far. My anchorage in Big Pine, was OK, but it was exposed for a mile in all directions and so shallow that a slight chop will make me bump bottom. Also, there was nothing to do on land, and there wasn’t land access other than walking through people’s back yards.
View Larger Map So today I sailed to Marathon with high hopes, and I suspect that’s the root of the problem. I slept very well last night, so I was ready for a bit of an adventure. I motored out of Big Pine and was pleasantly surprised that it would be an easy sail all the way to Marathon. I made phone calls and otherwise relaxed as I sailed by the 7 mile bridge that I’ve visited so many times. According to suggestions, I anchored outside and exposed so I could dinghy in and get a lay of the land, instead of taking the big boat in and maybe having troubles. I passed the fuel docks and then the free anchorage area on the right, for the most part filled with derelict boats whose Owners I would likely not like if I met them. Also, the anchorage was extremely tight, as the people who stay there don’t like to pay rent, and there are also the boats waiting for a mooring ball. There were plenty of balls, but every single one was occupied. When I got to the city marina that manages the mooring field I was informed that I’m number 10 on the list for a ball, and given the weather it’s unlikely that a bunch of cruisers will check out until after the front that is supposed to impact on Christmas. I was thinking to myself that it will be ok, I’ll just anchor in the free area. But then I was thinking, and do what? Well I want to go snorkeling in the reefs. That’s not going to happen in 20kt winds that are expected until after the 25th. I want to go shopping at a grocery store, well not really I provisioned well. All I’d ask for is a few more vegetables. Water at the marina? I’m going to buy fuel and I can get water at the same time, and I’ve done very well with water anyway. Other things on land I wanted to do: take the bus to Key West, which I’ve been to 100 times. Or I could eat at a restaurant, come on. What else is there that’s interested and will occupy me for 5 days? Fighting off boat bum neighbors? I can’t handle that level of people compression. I’ve never seen so many lived-on boats. When I visited from land I felt like it was some sort of boaters eden, but riding around in the dinghy I started to feel the utter lack of privacy. I can’t understand why you’d want to sit on a ball and live your daily life when you could be many other places and not be, crawling over people. My revulsion at the locale intensified once I saw exactly what I wanted to avoid in Key West, gaggles of old unwashed bearded men in beat up dinghys with nothing to do. Now there were certainly plenty of nice cruising boats just waiting for the right moment to hop to the Bahamas, but in the free anchorage the clientele like the boats looked rough. Perhaps after 7.5 years of living on a boat I have become uppity with a great disdain for those who just use a boat as a squatting pad instead of the lovely and graceful and slow conveyance that it is. Additionally, I had just sailed 5 hours, got my hopes up to think that I had come to nirvana only to be rudely awakened, and it’s hot down here. So, you get the idea. I said screw it, tank up and get out of dodge! I took the dinghy back to the big boat and started her up and raised anchor. I went into a fuel dock manned by a young guy about my age instead of the other docks with older men, because I knew I’d be treated better. I certainly wasn’t wrong! I filled up with 19 gallons of diesel, filled the water tank and 6 gallon jug, dropped of my plastic trash, and got my poop pumped out. The guy was super cool, and he came from Alabama near Destin to Marathon just because he figured it would be a cool place. He quickly bought a 28’ Oday sailboat and moved aboard, but has since become disenfranchised. He used to live in the free anchorage but said he couldn’t stand his alcoholic busybody old man neighbors, so he would rather pay 600$/mo keeping his boat at a dock. That says something when it’s half his paycheck. At this point I was still making up my mind, and asked him what there was fun to do. Bars, a few restaurants. I’m not interested. He was also cool because he didn’t charge me for the water, the poop pump out, or the trash, and yes they normally charge for all 3. I bit him adieu and gave him a good tip, then skedaddled over to Moser channel.
View Larger Map As I write this I’m ghosting along with barely any wind, but the forecast anticipates the wind will increase steadily tonight and be perfect to blow me to Port Charlotte. Also, Florida Bay is flat so the going is currently very easy. I hope that I can find entertainment at my next destination. It’s Monday night now, and I have about 70 hours until this nasty cold front gets to my neck of the woods. I think that’s more than plenty time to get from this part of Florida Bay up into Port Charlotte and find a protected anchorage. Even at my current very slow rate of speed at 2.7 kts I’ll still get there in time. Another thing I’d like to muse upon is the relative size of my world. In Destin, I had become accustomed to 10 hour days necessary to get to Panama City or Pensacola. Now that I’ve sailed a bit overnight, I’m thinking of 100-160 nmi in a 24 hour sailing day, and it really makes the world much smaller. For example, it would be a fast 24 hours or a slow 48 hours from here to Port Charlotte. That’s not a huge difference really. Anyway all is well, and I go in search of adventure. The only major unfortunate part is that I’m unlikely to get much sleep until I’m anchored up again.

Rest and chores

Finally, a day of rest and chores. Last night I finally slept well anchored in Big Pine, and no anchor alarms, or dragging, or tides to mess me up. I woke leisurely, and I made pancakes from a recipe I found, and they were pretty good with agave syrup and strawberry preserves! I was reading about doing laundry on the boat last night and I wanted to try it, never having done laundry by hand before. It took about 2 hours to do 3 small loads which was all the clothes I had dirtied since I left on my trip, and it only used 7 gallons of water. I talked with Chiung for a while, and I made another delicious coconut curry chicken soup, missing a few ingredients and using some ill looking cilantro. But it was still very good. Tomorrow I will sail over to Marathon and get on a waiting list for a ball. I expect I’ll have to anchor outside, but there is a bit of a storm coming on Wednesday and I would prefer to be in protected waters. If that fails I can always hide on the other side of the island. I also went on a wet dinghy ride to check out the surrounding area, but it was just all houses, nothing a cruising sailor might be interested in. Not much else to report. Sometimes it is good to have a boring day.

Newfound Harbor

View Larger Map As you may have guessed, I wasn’t too happy about my anchorage and decided that I shall stay there no longer. I took my time waking up, and I drank coffee and tea to keep me awake, but I still had to be out by 9AM or the tide would shift again and I wouldn’t be anchored properly. Last night the winds had increased to a soulful moaning, but conveniently by daybreak had subsided to something a bit more easygoing. Furthermore, they had shifted to be more out of the south and hence it was one upwind sail all the way to my designated anchorage in Big Pine Key, called Newfound harbor. The sail was positively lovely, and the boat did well. Part of my rosy feelings towards today’s sail emanated from the fact that it would be no more than 2.5 hours long, unlike the past several days of sail jail. After countless hours poring over the charts I now understand that there really aren’t any ‘good’ anchorages between Key West and Marathon, and this is also why the unwashed masses congregate at both locales. All the same I am determined to snorkel Looe Key, a beautiful reef complex directly south of the Newfound Harbor Entrance. After a nice, refreshing sail through Hawk’s channel I managed to maintain my tack and sail all the way to the top of the anchorage where I saw about 5 other sailboats. An interesting note that I read in the NOAA Coast Pilots on the trip down here, is that the best part of Newfound harbor is off limits to masted vessels due to several sailboats dragging anchor into the power lines that feed all the surrounding keys, causing a series of power outages as well as the boats catching fire and sinking. I presume the vessels were unattended. Anyway, due to a few oopsies I have to anchor in a VERY shallow region just outside of the prohibited zone. Conveniently, I entered the area at lowest tide, but this was only slightly reassuring as at times I only has 6” underneath my keel. All the same I managed to get in without bumping, dropped the hook and was ready to relax. Well, not quite. The boat is covered with thick salt crystals from all the spray taken on while sailing, and it was very dirty because of a very dirty boy. I closed up all the ports and gave the boat a front-to-back saltwater bath with a cloth “Better Bucket” I had manufactured on a previous trip. You wouldn’t think that salt would wash away salt, but it actually worked very well and brought the deck to a more walkable condition. The cockpit was particularly dirty, so it was nice to get an important portion of my living space clean. Still having nervous energy somehow, I went swimming to inspect the bottom. I don’t know what I was expecting, but there wasn’t any new growth of buggers since I left Niceville. I did confirm that there is no more than 14” of free space beneath the keel. The tide is only supposed to go down 6” more tonight, so hopefully the boat will remain floating. I also checked the anchor, out on 65’ of chain in this 6.7’ deep water. It seems ridiculous but I don’t want to be “that guy” that kills the power to this part of the keys. Ok, so now I’m tired, and I had enough time and energy to cook myself a decent meal before sunset. I think tomorrow I’m going to be lazy. No sailing, nothing adventurous. Just sit on the boat and read and maybe go on a tour of the area in the dinghy. Also, I’m going to attempt to do much of my laundry, and I have plenty of water after so many days at sea. That might be a bit of an adventure, as I’ve never done laundry by hand, ever. I still haven’t emptied the starboard 50 gallon water tank that I’ve been pulling from this whole trip, and I expect to go to Marathon before Christmas which will give me a chance to top up.

Ring ring! You anchored incorrectly, please haul anchor and try again

I’m writing this from a perspective of watchful nervousness. I anchored here last night knowing this was a tidal creek. Indeed, I thought to myself that nothing other than a stiff tide would dredge this area so much deeper than surrounding areas. However reality often gives us wakeup call that differentiates between knowledge and wisdom. Tonight the call was the ringing of the telephone just like children play with cans. As of now I have two anchors out, one off the bow and one off the stern. When I anchored there was a weak tide blowing northward, so my bow was pointed south with my strongest anchor in the same direction. I measured out 90’ of rope for my stern by walking the rode across my deck, cleated the rope off, then I got in the dinghy and rowed the stern anchor off. The one thing I forgot to do was to tension the stern anchor to the tightness of a fiddle string using the winch, however I had the foresight to wrap it around the winch and set it that way. I even left it somewhat tight, but I didn’t account for stretch of the rope. But the big problem here is that I didn’t set the stern anchor. Years and beers have made memories of my last tidal anchoring with Rosa in The Ditch a blur, but now I recall doing the same thing. The result is that instead of the boat pointing fore-aft to the current, held in place by the mutual tension of the two anchors, the boat has now leaned well over to the side, causing the broader side of the rudder and keel to meet the incoming flow and causing an increased load to be put on the stern anchor. The predicted high tide from yesterday was 7:10PM, and low tide today was 3:19AM, which puts me smack in the middle of the tidal swing. So I will wait nervously. Nervous why? Other than I’m nervous about all aspects of boating when I know of catastrophic effects. Really, I’m exaggerating. The boat won’t sink, I’m just worried about it not floating. If my stern anchor decides to let go, which I would have well tested by tightening it like a fiddle string mind you, then the boat will swing abruptly around, likely trip the forward anchor. The feeling in my stomach will be bad at this point as I can simulate the effects. Given the shallow nature of this area, I’ll end up aground and I’ll have to fiddle and fuss all night with anchors, winches, grunting, cursing and sweating in the sincere hopes that I won’t be a fixture of the landscape tomorrow morning. So nervous, yeah. So lessons (re)learned regarding anchoring in strongly tidal regions: never anchor halfass, and make sure bow and stern anchors are equally set and capable. Have them both tight to pre-stretch the nylon and sink in both anchors. I know it’s a pain to get the stern anchor out and do all this, but just envision a nightmare of run-aground hell and kedging off for the remainder of the night, and that should be impetus to do things right. The other thing I might have done is performed a Bahamian mooring, where both anchors go to the bow, and there’s a “kellet” or “sentinel” which is a weight that keeps both roped down so they don’t get caught around the keel or rudder. I actually have 10’ of chain for this exact purpose that I forgot about… I mentioned that the boat gave me a telephone call? The water moving swiftly over my bow chain is causing it to vibrate. The vibration is passed into the hull and sounds like a low turbulent rumbling. I suspect I’ll be awake until the tide abates a bit. Sleep easy, house-people. You don’t have to worry about such things. So I was awake or sleeping in a haze from 11:30 to 4:30, waking frequently to check the state of ropes and the anchors. The boat bobbed a bit, and soon it became evident that the stern anchor was slowly dragging. This is a bad thing, causing the boat to sit further crossways to the current, increasing the load, causing more drag. Mercifully, however, the tide slacked until it was nil. At 4:45 I felt a shift and the boat was once again pulling against the bow anchor. No time like the present, I decided to see what I could do to pull up the stern anchor. To my utter shock and disbelief, it came up without the slightest fight. All night the only thing keeping me put was the surface friction of the anchor and chain. Flabbergasted, I stowed the anchor, chain and rope having learned a valuable lesson that hopefully I won’t forget this time!

Sail into civilization to anchor away from it all

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I’m a bit exhausted, but I’ll post just to keep up the habit. Last night I anchored off the south end of the Marquesas in a nice little cove amidst very skinny water, but the nearby shoals substantially cut down the waves which made for an easy night. It was a bit of hell to get my anchor to seat in the hard rock bottom.  After 3 attempts at a set I figured I might as well try to just drag the anchor by motoring backwards. Every other time it just skipped across the bottom. This proved to be a useful tactic, although stopping a boat moving 2 kts in reverse may have strained my snubber a bit.

I joined Pete and Jill for a lovely dinner. I had prepared some ham and cheese mashed potatoes that were once again delicious, and they had caught an Atlantic bonita, a small tuna, which they prepared by searing so the center was still very raw. We had a salad to boot and some fiery wasabi, and the meal and company were terrific.  Our Gulf Bonita aren’t fit to feed dogs, but this fish, even though superficially resembling its cousin, was superb. After dinner I bid adieu, I was very tired from the motoring all day, and I headed back to the boat.

One thing that has freaked me out consistently on this trip is just how dark it is away from civilization. When I got into the dinghy, Pete had turned on his LED spreader lights to help me out. Unfortunately, this killed my night vision, and my boat’s anchor light became just one of the stars in the sky. To the south of me, nothing at all until Cuba. I briefly pondered what if I should lose my boat entirely in the dark, and be forced to cling to Pete’s vessel! Thankfully, the Star of Tardis was slightly unlike its bretheren in that it moved in an oscillation unlike those of standard celestial bodies, so I had a general vector of approach. However it wasn’t until I was very close that it appeared like a ghost out of the gloom, sending shivers up my spine with worry about losing my precious home. As I docked the dinghy and raised it I thought also of the consequence of losing my runabout, but at least all was well.

Although I set my alarm for 6, My cell phone’s time was off by an hour meaning I wasn’t roused until 7. I had been so tired that I went to sleep at 9:30, so with the sun I made coffee and breakfast quickly, and I was about a mile behind Pete pulling away. Mercifully, the winds were sailable, so I hoisted everything and killed the noisy rumble-bucket. Today I wasn’t feeling 100%, the game of dodge the lobster traps had mentally worn upon me, so I was elated to stop playing while I sailed. After traversing 40 statute miles and inevitably running over many of the dastardly things, none chose to join me on my trip for which I was quite thankful.

As with long sailing trips, it was uneventful to the reader but it kept me incessantly occupied either trimming sails, washing the deck, talking on the radio, or stuffing my face to avoid wasting away in light of so much running around. I was worn out by noon, but I did catch two Spanish mackerel, one of them almost 2’ long. I wasn’t into going through a bloody mess and cleanup for a mediocre fish, so I granted them a reprieve. The other thing of significance was my phone coming into cell range for the first time in a week, which unfortunately reminded me of junk mail and Facebook.

After a long day’s sail Pete had been ahead of me but he decided to bail out into Boca Chita harbor, but I had plenty of companionship the past few days and I was ready for a secluded spot. Derek had informed me of a marginal but possible niche of an anchorage called Saddlebunch harbor.  Most of the harbor is really only suitable for kayaks, but I fit myself into a tight hole and anchored bow and stern to accommodate the shifting tides. As soon as that was settled I took a hot shower and all became right with the world.

Tomorrow?  What will I do? I’m thinking chill out. I’ve been in sail jail for 2 days now and I want to maybe just sit here all day and read, or perhaps go fishing. I’m only 12 miles from my intended destination of a harbor near Big Pine and Ramrod keys, maybe I’ll sail there. Maybe I’ll sleep until noon and play video games? One way or another I need a bit of R&R, because Dry Tortugas is REALLY far away from the Keys. If you consider, I sailed 425 nm from Destin to the Tortugas, but from there to where I’m currently anchored is about 90 nm.

Upwind slog to Marquesas

Yesterday was great! That's good because today was work. I motored all the way upwind 43 nm from the Tortugas to anchor on the lee side of the Marquesas. Due to winds and currents this trip took 9 hours for a little less than 5 kts, which is annoying. What made the trip even more difficult was that I had to stay on deck to steer the boat to avoid the lobster traps which were everywhere. Pete and Jill took a different course and managed to sail 3 of the hours that I motored, but we arrived at the anchorage at the same time. Avoiding the traps made life a bit difficult, as I couldn't go below decks for more than about 2 minutes, and there was usually a new one in front of me as soon as I returned. So food today was super quick snacks and dried fruit, no time for anything interesting. I dragged lines for a while to see if I could catch dinner, but all I caught was a crab trap. The thing took half my spool of line by the time I could stop the boat. Now I'm an onery and persistent fellow, and don't forget cheap, so I turned her around and reeled every bit of line back in, then I went to the trap and recovered my lure. Yeah how's about that, stupid lobster trap. I gave up on fishing after that. Regina Oceani had better luck, landing a nice blackfin tuna which they've invited me to share tonight. I had hoped this might be lobster country but the bottom isn't conducive to it. It is hard rock and I had a bit of a time getting the anchor to set. Something notable, as we were arriving we heard on the VHF that some cuban rafters were spotted on the Marquesas. Indeed, as we arrived we could see the boat as well as at least 7 refugees waiting on shore and waving to the coast guard helicopter. As I write this there are 2 coast guard boats about half a mile from me going to pick them up. I'm tired and it's time for a shower.

Behemoths below, waterfall, snorkeling Loggerhead, and found dinner

Where to begin today, so much fun!

I have been watching dark behemoths beneath my boat since I arrived, and in a previous email joked about jewfish. Well it was no joke! I hopped in the dink with my new look bucket, and first thing I see is not just 1 but 2 goliath groupers just chilling in my boat's shade. They were each about 5 or 6' long, certainly weighing more than 100#. I took several pictures with my waterproof camera.

I had packed the dinghy for a trip to Loggerhead Key, about 3 miles away across deep water 'open ocean'. It's a little scary to consider being in the deep blue in an 8' boat with a tiny outboard, but I am intrepid. I'm also not stupid, and I had waited for today's weather of 5kts of wind and flat seas. As I get ready to untie my friends Paul and Jill from "Regina Oceani" called me over and asked if I wanted any water? Seriously, of course I want water, and they are in the enviable position of making too much water, so I gave them an extra 5 gallon jug. I then hightailed it across the pass in negligible winds, waves and currents, supremely confident in my abilities to row like death was chasing me, if indeed he was. I took the opportunity to use my new look bucket and saw all sorts of very pretty coral right underneath me all while staying dry. I even noted a place nearby that might be good fishing.

It took about half an hour to cross the three miles to Loggerhead, and there's a big lighthouse there. The island is about 1 mile N/S, 700' wide at best, and maybe 10' tall occupying something between 45 and 35 acres depending on the tides. I was greeted by two nice, obviously crazy live-on volunteers, and they suggested snorkeling spots to include a location called "Little Africa". I had previously been warned that the gentleman had no idea what he was talking about, so I walked the circumference of the island to scout out myself.

It didn't take long to walk the island, and according to the tides I decided to enter the water on the Northmost tip on the westward side and work my way down. There was a great deal of very pretty soft corals in the shallows abutting the beach, so it was a easy nice snorkel. I took a bunch of pictures and also of the hound dog barracudas who followed me with interest. When in the presence of such killers it's important to note that they are not interested in eating me, but they see me as a more apex predator and they want the table scraps of whatever I kill.

As I swam down the beach the near shore corals died out, so I swam into deeper water to search for the lost and elusive "Little Africa". I found something that could be it a good ways off shore, and I think the name sprang from the quite sparse sea fans amidst a sandy bottom. It did in some ways resemble parts of Africa I'd seen on TV, but it certainly was not a remarkable area.

I swam back towards shore and discovered that the southern part of the island has been scraped of life by storms or tides, and I quickly grew bored and got out.

Not to be dissuaded I walked to the north tip again this time to explore the East side of the island.  I was rewarded greatly by abundant sea life, big fish of the non-barracuda type, and large hollowed coral heads that contained tens of lobsters each. I took a bunch of pictures, and some of those bugs could have eaten my arm.

As I swam south the corals thinned out to turtle grass so I beached just in time to meet my friends Pete and Jill from "Regina Oceani" visiting via their dink.  I shared my intelligence regarding the lay of the land and headed back to the anchorage.

After seeing all those huge and delicious fish, the latent hunter-gatherer spoke of his deep desire to kill for gain, so I loaded a baticasting net, buckets and fishing stuff into the dinghy and headed towards shore. It didn't take long for me to refine my casting style (only 40 minutes) to the point that I could actually catch some of the thousands of baitfish that were shoaling along the shores. Then I trudged a full 5 gallon bucket of water and fish to the dinghy and headed to an area that I had previously scouted with my beloved look bucket.

So I don't know how to fish, other than having some understanding of the basics. I quickly lost multiple batifish to multiple reasons. Towards the end of my bait supply I learned where it was right to hook them and how, and I started to catch small snappers and then 2 small groupers. I was getting the feeling that I was fishing in the kiddie pond, and I was on my next-to-last baitfish when I rowed into the channel to attempt for deeper waters.

I must say that what happened next was of no skill of my own, but I hooked a behemoth that began to pull me and the 8' dink around like a skier. Excitement! I have spent so much time attempting to fish and never catching anything that to finally get one was purely awesome. I worked him while he worked me until I tricked him into swimming an orbit around me while I just sat, held on and spun. Five complete orbits later he was getting spent as I had recovered, so I landed the beastie into my 5 gallon bucket, except it was too small, so I held him in place with my look bucket over his head.  See, quite a useful device! The problem now was that I didn't know what he was.

I motored back to the anchorage in a hurry, showed off my catch to the other boaters, then headed to show one of the rangers ashore. In Florida, it's law to 'land' a catch before you disassemble him, so I figured it would be best to show to law enforcement, that way they might not decide to come visit me on their boat.  He was a 32" greater amberjack, perfectly legal, so I took him back to the boat to butcher him on deck.

It was a bloody mess, but it cleaned up easily enough, and I had three big bags of meat, two that I shared with Regina Oceani and the other boat in the harbor. Regina's crew invited me for dinner, so I was obliged to first clean the dinghy as my dead friend had gotten loose and made a tad bit of a mess, then I cleaned the deck of the big boat, and afterward it was time for a shower.

I had been trying since I arrived to get HF emails out to no avail, but miraculously tonight I got all 6 waiting emails out in less than 10 minutes. The 40M band was lit up with spanish voices that I was sad to not be able to fully understand, because a park ranger had informed me that President Obama had issued an executive order to open up relations with Cuba. Why go to the Bahamas, when Cuba is beautiful and unspoil't by the evils of western ca-pita-lism. Hah! Maybe next year I'll go and bring back some Cohebas.

On Regina we had great conversations, and Pete showed off all the work he'd done on his lovely Pearson 424 in the past decade. His boat was fully ready to rock, and now that Cuba's open he knows exactly where he's going when he retires.

We discussed buddyboating to the Marquesas, and I bid adieu to prepare Tardis for her next jump. I have great plans Thursday to get to the Marquesas and catch and kill some Florida lobsters!

Human look bucket, plastic look bucket

Fun times today! After stuffing my face for a while, and narrowly avoiding a nap with a cup of coffee, I decided to go off and take HDR photos of the fort with my DSLR. I took the dinghy there and walked around for a while, then I headed back to the boat. After dawdling for another hour I went to my boat neighbor’s (Insert Name Here) and we hopped on his dinghy to go look for this wreck and good snorkeling as indicated on the map. We went over there, not quite a mile away, and neither of us having a look bucket I stuck my head in the water while he motored us along.  Note to self, build a look bucket!

Anyway, the wreck was in roughly 30’ of water which was all but invisible. The shoal neighboring the wreck was much of the same finger coral graveyard. There were a few large coral heads as well as a few sea fans, but overall there wasn’t much worth getting wet about, so after about 30 minutes we called off the search and headed back to the boats, where I said thanks and bye.

I went back to my boat, only now realizing that I forgot to try fishing, but the sun is setting L. Anyway I spent some time poring over the charts and planning my next hop. I was almost relishing the though of an offshore hop into the gulf stream, but I realized that I’ll have more fun if I motor 6 hours inshore to the Marquesas and go exploring for lobsters there, then motor the next day to an anchorage at Big Pine key. I then got to thinking that I wish I had a look bucket.

For those that don’t know, a look bucket is a way to look underneath the water from the relative safety of your dinghy, without getting wet! Most people make their own, but as with all things there are expensive commercially available alternatives. Being from lands of muddy waters, I didn’t even think what a cool device this would be, so I didn’t bring one with.

However, (triumphant drumroll) just as a chef will use ingredients on hand to concoct a delicacy, I keep the boat stocked will many sort of sundries for no better reason than this. Case in point, for no better reason than my previous boat came with a 10”x20”x1/16” piece of plexiglass and I wasn’t going to sell it with that boat, I dutifully moved it over to this boat and stored it in one of the lockers when I built it. I also naturally have multiple buckets, my beloved “grey sticky stuff” butyl tape, and plenty of stainless hardware. A few minutes with my jigsaw running off the inverter, pop a few holes and I have a look bucket!

Tomorrow I’m thinking of taking the dinghy to Loggerhead point about 3 miles away and going snorkeling there. I will of course take my newly constructed look bucket with me to test it out.

The dead awaken, food and exertion, and begin to play

Last night I slept like the dead, and it was good. However my anchor alarm on my cell went off multiple times for nonsensical reasons. The first time I awoke to think I was still sailing and something bad was going to happen. Well it's good that alarms can wake me. As it turned out GPS is stupid sometimes and my anchor stayed well put.

Some boat neighbors brought me blueberry muffins this morning, so I gave them a QSL card. After coffee, muffins and leftover mashed potatoes with ham and cheese (delicious!) I packed up and headed to the beach intent on snorkeling the island. I was wearing my ill-fitting wetsuit and the 69F water was cold! The waves made it difficult also, and although going to the gym has kept me in good overall health it certainly hasn't worked the muscles in my legs associated with the use of fins. A properly fitting wetsuit has just made itself onto my must-buy list!

My boat neighbor told me that he gets to live his cruising retirement dream starting at 55. His job at HP has offered that he'll work part time, 4 days a week for 80% pay, for 6 months out of the year, and the rest of the year he has off. What a gig! This is his shakedown 5-week cruise, afterward he'll spend 6 months at a time cruising the islands.

I got to test my snorkel-rated waterproof camera and it did just fine. The reef around the fort is mostly soft corals because the hard ones get hammered by storms, as evidenced by mass coral graveyards. I want to go snorkel a nearby wreck via dinghy, but I need the wind/waves to lay down. Also, I'm a bit tired. That mile swim felt a good bit like work!

Weather outside is moderate winds and sunny, and the water is so pretty! I'm having a hard time getting emails out but I presume things will get better eventually.

Sleep deprived error, where is the sun, and landfall Dry Tortugas

After my last email, I felt triumphant and so deeply tired.  I was certain that sleep would grab me and not let go until Wednesday sometime, but I'm just too excited about life to sleep it away. I did take a long shower (1 whole gallon) which was awesome, then I made something quick to eat expecting to sleep. But then I felt like unpacking the dinghy's motor (I went to shore on oars previously), and then I dipped the fuel tanks (only used 9 gallons) and dropped my 5 gallon extra jug into the tank.

Then I saw a huge grouper under the boat, so I dropped the dinghy in so I could watch it up close. It was like 3' long in this crystal water. Well, while the dinghy is in the water I might as well test the motor.  Ok it runs, maybe time for a shore excursion. Well, before I got to land I was flagged over by some sailors on a 44' homebuilt (HAM radio guys too) who I talked to for an hour. It only took an hour to walk the island, and on my way back I said hi to some other cruising sailors who beautifully restored a Pearson 424, again for an hour. So now that I'm back to the boat I'm just now starting to feel tired, but at least my nervous energy has burnt itself off. Tomorrow I think I will snorkel around the whole island just for starters.

I wanted to re-mention last night. I decided around 8pm to motor all night so I could get here early enough. Well I made a sleep-deprived mistake somehow and set one clock in the wrong direction when going from CST to EST, so I'm 2 hours off in my estimation. Well, I had motored about 5 hours, eaten delicious Thai soup, showered, and I was trying to sleep but I just can't when the motor is running. I tried for about 30 minutes and then started to notice that the boat was leaning a bit from wind. After a mostly windless day the spirits returned with a vengeance. It was a good thing I had already downed the drifter, because now I plied on all her canvas to get her almost as fast as she was motoring. Ten minutes of effort later we were hauling off silently under sail, so I only motored about half as much as I had expected.

With sails, I was able to fall asleep for about 2 hours and awoke as is usual to a fervent check of things and make sure all was still well. I then continued to sail the approach to the reef, a difficult thing in the inky blackness of night. I did however see at least a hundred meteors as well as satellites in orbit. The heavens were quite breathtaking.  However there was a problem.

6:30 came and went and where was the sun? I thought to myself is this the way the world really ends, and just when I'm starting this sailing trip. Or maybe the sun rises every day except for every so often when he forgets that he has a day's work ahead of him, probably because he was out boozing with his luna girlfriend. I was terribly perplexed by this, until I realized I had somehow convinced myself to set all devices to mountain time in a sleep deprived haze.  It's a real good thing there isn't much to hit out in our part of the Gulf, I couldn't imagine driving a car feeling like that. Those extra 2 hours were a bit tough, but sunrise was perfectly timed (and I mean perfect, how my motoring and switch to sailing and sailing speed had me entering the difficult part of the pass with light over my shoulders). This has me nicely anchored by 7:30, and checked into the landside park rangers by 8:30.

Anyway I made sure the rangers knew I was the son of Lesley from Finance. Also, thus far everybody who heard the boat's name knew Who I was talking about. The fellow sailors lamented that it just isn't bigger on the inside, and the ranger suggested my doctor would be good for emergency surgery, I said yes but only on a diesel.

Ok I'm rambling, but I'm trying to cook some potatoes in saltwater because mashed potatoes with ham and spices and butter sounds delicious, I wonder if it will work.

Tomorrow snorkel the whole island.  Snorkel a nearby wreck. Catch some baitfish and try to catch that 3' grouper I keep seeing swim around. Even if he is a goliath grouper AKA jewfish, I want a picture!

Code Zero, sailors shouldn't plan, and feeding the monsters

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After last night it shouldn't come as a surprise that today I needed sleep. I motored 2 hours in the morning to make some headway while the winds were completely dead, like less than 4 kts. The alternator wasn't working... Once the winds got above 6 kts I killed the motor, but the boat was slowly drifting at just less than 3 kts. In very light winds I get better speed if I fly drifter alone, as the main messes up the airflow. This trip is highlighting a real need for a bigger light air sail as well as a better way of stowing it than a turtle bag. I might want to design my own Code Zero style roller furler.

The waves are still rocking the boat in an annoying way, but I couldn't help it and put in earplugs and slept for 3 hours. It's kinda funny to awake and think you're somewhere else, but it looks the same outside. I had only moved 7 nm in 3 hours, and I wouldn't expect there would be much boat traffic around this area.

Current plans (3PM) are to drift all night until 3 or 4 AM, depending on the human element. At that point I'll start the motor and chug 4 hours or so until I reach the perimeter of Dry Tortugas, and from there it will be another 2 hours until I'm anchored. That should have me anchored by 11 and checked in by 12. If all goes well then I will probably go back to the boat and sleep until Tuesday.

Update 8:30PM. What a joke that I thought I would have drifted so far. I'm still 60 nm from the islands, so I fired up the diesel and I'll run all night to arrive and get anchored by 8am.  And then sleep until tuesday.

So before sunset I emptied out and then hopped into the hole. A wire had fatigued itself off the alternator which was causing it to not charge. I had it fixed in 10 minutes. My engine bay vacuum fan hose had parted where I duct taped two of them together.  Oops! So I got some sewing string and sewed the pieces together, then duct tape. I also rescued a screwdriver that I lost whilst messing with the autopilot a few days ago. And I marked my fuel valves so I know which tank I'm pulling from and returning to. How does anyone go cruising without being a fixall like myself?

So I should mention that I'm HUNGRY! I figured it would take a few days of sailing and working, while feeding myself minimally until it caught up with me. Tonight I'm cooking a coconut curry soup with pork, tomatoes, mushrooms and it tastes just like at a restaurant. It tastes good because I actually followed a recipe instead of my typical experimentation.

It has occurred to me that I obsessed about the wrong fluid, namely water.  I have been taking showers out of the pesticide sprayer (.75 gal) and washing dishes with saltwater and rinsing off (1 tbsp each item) with the sprayer. I haven't actually metered myself before but I suspect I'm only using 2-4 gallons a day. Considering I'm carrying 175 gals, that's nothing to worry about.

My fuel situation, however is different. The engine burns between .75 and .85 gals/hr in my normal running range. I can burn less but then I slow to 5kts or so. I have 46 gals in 2 tanks, and I only have 5 gals extra in a jug. Considering I'm going to motor 10 hours tonight, and accounting for previous use, that brings me down to 3/4 capacity. Depending on the winds, I may have to motor to key west which will burn another 7 or 8 gallons. Clearly I need extra jugs for future trips.

So despite my anxiety and sleep deprivation last night, and a crummy morning, I feel pretty good. I shouldn't underestimate the effects of a hot shower, clean clothes, and a full stomach on my overall mood.

Anxious karma, coalition forces prevail

A good day followed by a not so good night. This is the definition of Karma, in that I can't have too much of a good thing. I have been coming into an area of the gulf that is much shallower, 250' and less, all night. Shallow water is bad for waves, and I've had small, irregular waves at short periods that are perfectly in synch with my boat's natural period. The winds have also decreased significantly. About once a minute she rolls strongly due to a miniscule wave because she's being plucked at her resonance. This has kept me up all night so I'm not in the very best spirits today. Also, yesterday was such a nice day, and I was previously rested before, so my brain felt it necessary to grip me in a keen anxiety that I have hitherto been too tired to experience.

I kept the main up last night until 11 when I took it down because the slatting noise was annoying me. Once again less canvas gave me more speed, from 3 to 4 kts. I have flown my drifter the whole trip, never coming down yet, and I want a bigger one with a dousing sock. I was crossing a safety fairway last night which means big boat traffic. My radar saw a few big boats come and go, but the alarm never went off. I presume their captains saw me and avoided me. This added to my anxiety of the night.

Today and tonight I have to play a game where I go just the right speed. If I go too fast I'll just end up waiting, sails down and rocking at night, not too far from the Tortugas. If I go too slow, which barely seems possible sometimes, then I won't get anchored down until late Monday, and there isn't much good daylight in the winter. The thoughts of navigating the reefs in anything less than nice sunshine crept into my dreams last night, with action shots beneath the water of how close my keel was coming to federally protected corals, while The Man watched me on radar so he could run out and haul me off to jail (Dry Tortugas was a jail btw), but he'd never deign to come and pilot me in.

Anyway it's time for coffee, an elixir to hopefully boost my mood. Today I think I will try to rest as much as I can, and you had better believe that I'll be very happy to be anchored in a protected spot once I get there. A good news is I can smell microbial death, and the battle waged in my sinuses overnight was won by coalition forces.

Nearing port, another sighting, and loving the warm.

Today was great!

A portion of today was spent flopping about in mild 2' seas and only moving about 4 kts, however since 1pm EST I've had steady, stronger winds pushing my speed ever higher. My trip log on my tablet indicated a max speed of 9.3 kts recently! Even now I'm going 7.5 kts, but I suspect I must be enjoying the Gulf current because it doesn't feel so fast. As an added bonus the seas have dropped down to 1'. What has further made my life better is that I identified why my mast was making really loud creaking noises and I have effectively eliminated them. If this speed keeps up (and I doubt it), I might be at Dry Tortugas Sunday evening. It is currently 160 nm away. Otherwise I'll plan my sailings to make landfall Monday morning. According to the charts it is well marked, but I'd rather enter a foreign reef with daylight to guide and protect me.

 Whatever cold was trying to ambush my throat yesterday has moved up into my nose causing it to run all day, and I've been sneezing a lot also. At least I feel like things are getting better. I'm hoping I'll sleep better tonight with less squeaking and short seas.

 I saw a single motorboat today, a 50' or so sportfisher far off on the horizon and hauling North. I had to run the generator a few hours to get the batteries up for another night. My Nav lights burn about 2A because they're one of the few things I haven't converted to LED's. I suppose I should have talked to Rick before I left. Combine that with autopilot and radar, and it's drawing a bit of juice, about 25% of my battery bank every night. I suspect the solar would work fine, but on this southerly tack the panels are shaded almost all day. 

Also, I discovered that out here on the waves and steady winds, I need to turn the gains on the autopilot way down, otherwise the AP is overshooting on every single wave which burns lots of juice and makes the boat steer like it's drunk. After I turned the gains down she has behaved as pretty as you can please, but in the presence of gusts I'll have to remember to turn the gains back up. It may also be the slighter seas.

Warming after a sighting

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By the time I went to sleep last night I just knew I was going to be sick. A tickling had started in my throat and I was having a few dry coughs. Go figure you spend some time outdoors, with a bit of stress from the constant motion and demands of the vessel, and not much sleep. That's naturally a recipe for ill. Thankfully, last night was less cold, although at one point I woke soaked in sweat with a mild fever. Whatever microscopic battle occurred I feel like I was the victor, as today I feel better.

I "saw" my first ship about 4:30 this morning when I woke to check the sails, heading, and annotate the log. The radar is set to spin 20 times every 15 minutes, and it picked up a ship 8nm out that was invisible to my eyes. The next 2 scan cycles had the ship progressing towards Tampa and out of my radar range. I had previously been of the opinion that if my radar broke I wouldn't fix it, but it has shown me its value, and it doesn't use much power in this mode. Its most valuable quality is that it allowed me to sleep easier knowing that I would likely have some warning before a ship runs me down, or I run into something.

The dolphins again greeted me this morning. I don’t suspect they were following me all night, but who knows. The winds overnight shifted from dead downwind to on my beam once again. By 4AM I needed to raise the main for extra power but I was tired and didn’t want to mess about on deck in the dark, remembering how much I struggled last time. Instead I waited until dawn was in the air, but the sun wasn’t yet up. I donned my safety gear and prepared to raise the main. This time I got everything ready, then I deactivated the autopilot, ran forward and raised the main until the battens caught on the lazy jacks. I didn’t struggle, just went back to the cockpit and resumed course. I then shook the offending batten free from the jack, and managed to raise the main the rest of the way without any fuss.

I need to maintain a mean speed greater than 4 kts if I want to make it to DRTO by morning on Monday. This is actually pretty easy lately, so I don’t think I need to stress about it. On another subject, the weather is warming down here and I am starting to feel the past few days on my clothes, so it is likely I’ll take a shower today and switch to some more southerly attire.

Wow, life is so much better after a shave and a hot shower with clean clothes afterward. The weather outside is also a lovely 72F. If only I can stave off this cold I’ll be in good shape!

Breathtaking skies

Tonight the skies are clear, and the heavens are breathtaking.  I'm about 150 miles west-northwest of Tampa, and I can faintly see its city glow on the horizon. However in every other direction I can see stars down to the horizon. If it weren't so cold outside I'd spend more time out there. In actuality the weather is lovely, I think the low tonight will be around 55, and the winds are soft and the seas are slight.

I've been floating along at a meager 4 kts, and at this rate I won't make the Tortugas until late Monday. But life is good, I have plenty of food, I've barely used 2 gallons of water and I drank most of that. Considering it may be about 2 weeks until I can do laundry I'm just being a dirty boy and am wearing the same thing. I might see if I can wear the same clothes until I arrive, then treat myself to a few gallons of a hot shower.

Today a pod of dolphins played alongside me, it was very cute! Most of the pod was juveniles, and they followed me at my slow pace for over 2 hours.

Sending an email like this takes about 15 minutes, so I typed much more in the text that will go on my blog.

I am surprised by how fast my boat is even in light winds, and it's very stable and comfortable despite the unruly sea state. I am getting more accustomed to the continuous motion.

I must say that life is a tad tough in 5' seas, I wonder how bad it would be in the winds of a winter storm? I have been reviewing Derek's trek from last year that he annotated on my chartbook. I can see he followed the coast closely on his return trip with winds from the East, presumably to avoid the worst of the waves. It is likely that I might do the same.

I haven't seen another boat all day, but tomorrow morning I should be coming to the same latitude as Tampa and I expect there might be big boat traffic.

First day doing well

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According to my GPS I have 275 miles remaining, which isn’t bad. That means I cleared about 140 nm in a day. However that last night was a bit of stress with shifting winds and moderate seas. Tonight looks to be different. The winds are soft, perhaps 10 kt out of the North. I’m flying drifter only as wing/wing doesn’t make sense, and working the pole was really too difficult. The main was also shadowing the drifter, and the main itself slatted for several hours today. I decided to motor for 2 hours once speeds dropped below 3 kts, partly to get moving and partly to charge the batteries.  The good news is that I appeared to have repaired the previously leaky oil dipstick, so I shouldn’t run afoul of the law for a leaky diesel.

I’ve finished all my leftovers, and I’ll start thinking of cooking a new meal each night. I also want to attempt to make bread, again. Tonight I’ll have a salad of tomatoes, green peppers and  cucumber. While I was motoring I looked out and a whole pod of about 9 or so dolphins were following me. There were quite a few juveniles, and many of them seemed to revel in the sensation caused by the propwash.  I took quite a few pictures of their playful antics, and the water here is so clear you could easily see them beneath the water.

I’m writing multiple times every day to give myself something to do. With a lack of digital internets and people I have to entertain myself. I tried all last night to minimize my OCD compulsion to look outside around the boat and just wait for the radar to beep. Even now I’m only moving at 4 kts and I’ve been inside 10 minutes, and I want to look outside. As if a boat will just pop up in front of me! I haven’t seen a boat all day, nor last night after I passed the tugboat near Destin.

The seas are mostly calm, but occasionally I get hit by a real rocker that rolls the boat a good bit. The motion is still so much better than the Hunter 31 which frequently rolled hard enough to put stuff on the floor. Thus far, even in the 3-5’ seas of last night the motion was easy and for the most part stayed less than 15 deg of heel. Considering the boat is much more behaved tonight, I might be interested in doing more things.

If I consider travelling 4 kts all the way to DTRO, it would have me arriving Monday evening. As I hope to make it into the anchorage with plenty of daylight, I’m hoping the wind will kick up and push me there faster by a knot or so. Given the extended forecast has strong winds out of the east, I’m not sure how I’ll get from DTRO to the Keys. The boring method is to just motor on Hawk’s channel for 70 miles until I get to Key West, and that will drain half of one of my tanks.  A more interesting idea I have is using the gulfstream as a booster, even if I have to tack against headwinds. That will allow me to sail past Key West up into Big Pine Key where I intend to make anchorage. Maybe I should just wait until the weather is a bit more mild? There’s also a nearer anchorage at Sugarloaf that I might avail myself of, but overall I intend to avoid Key West in the boat.

Time is passing strangely, with little to reference against.  I suppose my sleep deprivation doesn’t help either. Hopefully tonight I’ll be a bit more chilled out and can sleep a bit more than before.

Boom-boom goes the sound of freedom

Everything takes a bit longer on a rocking boat. By 9AM I realized that I needed to EAT! My stomach and body were both screaming. Normally I am inherently lazy in food prep, but today I wanted good food so I took 3 eggs, scallion greens, ham and spices and mixed them all up. I fried it in oil because calories are not my current problem. Anyway making all this was in half speed, and after I had eaten doing the dishes...

Whoa!  I was just severely frightened! I just heard two booms, very loud like a bomb going off. Right afterward I heard the noise of a fighter jet. I didn’t see them, but my blood is pumping! That’s the sound of freedom I suppose, and out here in the Gulf they’re allowed to go supersonic.

Anyway, the dishes are interesting.  First I have all the dirty dishes in the left sink. I wash them with saltwater and Joy and move them to the right sink. Then I use my pesticide sprayer to gently wash them off, only using 1 tbsp of water on each dish, and then I put them on the dryer rack over the left sink. This took about 4x as long as usual.

Now that I’ve eaten and cleaned up, there’s not much I want to do other than to take another nap. This constant motion.  Boom-Boom! There they go again. This motion is quite tiring, but at least the boat stays on an even heel, not much more than 15 degrees while I’m still making better than 10 kts. The boat is happy and so am I.

Start of a journey

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Yesterday I set out on a journey from Destin, Fl to Dry Tortugas, the Keys, and hopefully back. I have been preparing for this trip for the last month, but really I’ve been preparing for the last 7.5 years. It’s been my dream to go cruising on a sailboat of my own since I started reading Cruising world in college, and today is the first day of me actually living it.

I must say, the open waters aren’t quite what I expected; perhaps I had hoped for towering orderly rollers which my boat would sit majestically upon like a bird, never getting its head wet. What I am experiencing are disorganized, sometimes randomly oriented short period waves which make the autopilot work.

Of all the things that would kill this trip for me, it would be the failure of the autopilot. Faced with steering by hand, solo, for 4 days or more, I would most likely duck into the nearest cover and throw my money at the nearest Raymarine man. But I have a brand new autopilot mated up to my excellent chain drive unit, and I have felt confident that it would serve me well. However, as it was myself who was responsible for installation, I shall take all the blame for its failure. Even before this trip had started, and I wasn’t even clear of the Destin jetties, the autopilot screen announced a drive failure. No worries, as I quickly unpacked the lazaret and accessed the drive unit. Indeed the terminal block which mated the drive motor to my wiring to the drive controller had a loose wire, so that should have fixed it, but it was just one problem.

While I had been preparing to install a homebrew rudder reference transducer, I had lost one of the fine pitched machine screws which holds the drive unit’s cover on, and the tension of the screws also holds the wire terminals in place. Faced with insufficient compression, the drive connector had slipped out under motor vibration or shifting loads of the gear in the lazaret. That was 6PM on Thursday, but by Friday morning not 12 hours later the same connector had worked itself loose again causing a cacophony of sail flogging and perhaps I also heard some whispered curses uttered. Once more into the lazaret, and this time I fixed it with my preferred solution to most problems on the boat, a few gobs of butyl tape.  Time will tell the level of foolishness of my repair.

The weather for this journey was incredibly promising, with moderate winds of 12-15 kts at first pushing me from behind and later swinging around to bring me into a reach. After I satisfied myself that I could trust the autopilot last night, I set the large jib out on a pole and also raised the drifter, flying wing and wing almost perfectly downwind. This is a lovely tack, but the weather conspired against me so that by 3AM I was forced to lower the big jib. This left me with insufficient power and speed, and I’m really hoping to keep 6 kts or better, so I spent the next hour raising the main in the dark, dealing with the annoyances of its lovely full battens being one by one hung upon the lazy jacks.  Rather than stress my meager strength, I let the autopilot do my dirty work, and I went through tacks and jibes until the main was standing proud, and I was covered in sweat.

At dawn, after having to hand steer shortly while I fixed the autopilot again, I decided that it was time to bring balance to my rig, making the Ray’s job all that much easier. I raised my baby jib, or stays’l and was immediately disappointed that more surface area actually cut a knot off my speed. Ten minutes of this poor performance and I decided to let sleeping dogs lie, and brought the baby jib back down.

I would like to sing some praise to this lovely invention of the radar. I had never actually bothered to use this wonderful device in previous all-night crossings to Pensacola or Panama City. Instead I opted to torture myself and crew with orders to be on the lookout for lights of passing ships. Not only is this a boring proposition, but it is mostly fruitless as this section of the Gulf is infrequently populated by commercial ships. Add on the additional requirement to stay awake all night, and you have a bad deal.

On the other hand, there are ships out here to be avoided.  Last night as I had finally got my sails set I could be on a collision course a brightly lit boat with a green lamp behind it. It was the tug boat “OJ” towing a 400’ barge on a 1400’ tow line. Behind the barge was an additional 160’ emergency tow bridle and Norwegian orange float, so said the captain. Naturally this is the sort of thing I want to have nothing to do with, so I altered course and passed him safely far away.

So this brings me back to my radar, and the realities of a big boat running me down. Large cargo vessels may stand 100’ or more high, but they move in excess of 20 kts. As such they could be upon me within as little as 15 minutes, and I would have to evade as well as call out on the marine VHF radio. The radar has alarms where I can set it to beep if a vessel comes within a certain range, and it doesn’t have to spin and emit continuously, saving on wear and tear as well as power consumption. This device is my friend singlehanding, allowing me to sleep, if not soundly, then at least more than none.

Thanks to my autopilot and radar, I have already made almost 100 nautical miles towards my intended target of the Dry Tortugas.

Preparing for trip to the Keys

I've been doing lots of prep to get Tardis ready for a hop from her home port of Niceville, FL down to Marathon.  I have 5 glorious weeks off on paid leave, and I fully look forward to my first long distance trip. The boat is as ready as I want to get her, and packed as much as I think I can bear.  My 8' dinghy fits a bit cattycorner on the top of the doghouse, but overall it is decent and still possible for me to get around.

I am bringing 4x6 gallon water jugs and one each of 5 gallons of ethanol free gas and diesel. I went through my entire solar bimini structure and removed all of the tiny set screws and drilled holes to replace them with stainless pop rivets.  I was a bit concerned that a set screw would let go with catastrophic results.  I took the spare solar panel off the aft of the bimini and davits.  I only used that to charge the starting battery anyway.

I've packed a good bit of food. I love my cheeses!

 Notable is my supply of roots: potatoes, yams, onions, carrots, daikon, ginger, garlic, shallots.  I have enough to last me quite a while, and hopefully it all lasts a while without going bad.

I bought way more snacks than I ever usually buy.  I expect that I will be in many situations where I don't feel like cooking, or I don't want to use the water.  I also have staples like rice, pasta/sauce, rice noodles, soups, broth boullion, canned fruits and veggies.  I bought meat for more than a month and bagged it into single servings.

Basically if it doesn't easily go bad, and I would eat it normally) then I bought it.  I certainly won't starve, but everything I have bought thus far has a shelf life of a few months.  I will go shopping again soon for perishables like fresh fruits and vegetables, and a separate trip for meat.
I'm excited, but currently the weather is forecast to be flat seas and no wind on my anticipated day of departure.  I might just have to motor a while, but it will get me well offshore and into deep water by sunrise so I should be in a better position in the case the weather turns foul.
I will try to update the blog throughout the trip, hopefully all goes well.