Completely exhausted from our journey, we fell asleep HARD Monday morning upon our arrival behind Anclote Key. We were in a calm, quiet cove – well-deserved after the pounding we just took.
We were so tired and weathered, that we just didn’t want to mess with getting either of the generators started. Instead, we just fell immediately asleep. Within a couple of hours, the Florida sun was up and baking us alive. It was only about five hours worth of sleep, but it was enough to recharge us (a bit.) Motivated by a FULL night’s sleep in Clearwater – just a few more miles ahead, we started the motors and ventured onward. No breakfast this morning. No showers. No starting of the generators. Etc. Heck, I didn’t even check the oil or water levels on the motors. Nope. Just turn the keys, fire-up those kittens, pull the hook, and get movin’.
Motoring along the calm and safety of the intercoastal waterway, in our “home” waters was pure delight. Now THIS is what boating is SUPPOSED to be like!
Prior to crossing the Gulf, I had visions of laying out on the deck for HOURS at a time in Kelly’s makeshift pool. Maybe even reading one of the books she brought along. Or, maybe even finishing-up one of the many books that I had started in the past few years? I had visions of trolling for fish as we cruised – hoping to catch our first Mahi or Yellow-Fin. Then, having our first fresh-caught lunch or dinner. I had visions of bar-b-queuing on the back deck noon and nights. I had SUCH visions – all of which were instead ILLUSIONS!
As we returned to Clearwater, we drove the boat straight to one of our favorite local bars/pubs (Frenchy’s.) We showered on the boat as we approached, and put on some “nice” clothes (for going ashore.) We went inside, and had our first decent, sit-down meal in days. We felt almost human.
Kelly then contacted our friends (Paul & Lisa) to make arrangements to pickup our car, and to borrow their condo for a spell. Meanwhile, I went on a hunt for some longer-term dockage.
I had called some friends and such over the past month or so, trying to find/secure something. But, the “deals’ usually come and go pretty quickly – you need to BE THERE to capitalize on them. So, now that I was there, I needed to hunt for a deal.
I found a few deals, but one stood out from the rest. I found a vacant waterfront lot on the back side of Clearwater Beach. But, it DOES have a dock that is perfectly set-up for a 40-50 foot boat. It also has JUST ENOUGH water depth for our boat. I did some wheeling and dealing with the owner/agent, and we agreed to a favorable monthly rental price.
Kelly returned with the car, just as I was relocating the boat from the restaurant to its new dock home.
We are landlubbers again (at least for the next 30 days or so.)
I will be making visits to the local boat junkyards and such, to replace the few items that didn’t survive the storm – VHF radios, relay for the generator, etc.
Crossing the Gulf again: During and afterwards, I said NEVER again! But, as we drove past a NICE 50-foot sportfishing boat, even KELLY said, “well, maybe in a bigger and FASTER boat?!” One that has enough speed to truly out-run a storm. One that has the ability to ride up/over the waves – as opposed to driving/diving up/down each of them.
I would NOT do it in a sailboat. As a matter of fact, this little crossing has COMPLETELY changed my dreams/desires about becoming a coastal sailboat cruiser.
Open water cruising, just isn’t for us (anymore.) Nor is long-distance cruising. I have ZERO DESIRE to finish/complete “The Great Loop” up the Eastern seashore, into the Great Lakes, and back to St. Louis (not that I was ever planning to do so.)
Living aboard is still an option. Week-long or weekend cruising is still 100% enjoyable. I might even be willing to cruise this boat to the Keys, and then up to Miami, and then out to the Bahamas. But, that’s about it. NO MORE DREAMS about circumnavigation.
I would indeed still like to buy/liveaboard a catamaran sailboat in the future. I would love to cruise it for a few years (a BUNCH of little short-hops) through the Caribbean. I also think it would be kewl to liveaboard in the Mediterranean for a few years. But, I would NOT sail our boat across the Atlantic. Instead, I would either hire someone else to make the passage in our boat for us; or pay to have it dry-shipped over there; or sell it here in the States, and buy another boat over there (for the duration.) Then, resell it to return back to the States.
This is probably my last “posting” to the Venture Out II blog. This journey is over – for now. I won’t delete the blog, so others can read and learn from our comments. I might edit some of the previous posts, to add a few photos.
We would like to thank all of our friends and family for supporting us throughout this adventure/ordeal. First and foremost Rob & Pat Stewart, without whom this trip would never have occurred. The Rasch Family, for your much-needed hospitality in Gulf Shores. Paul & Lisa (our Florida Family) for welcoming us home and opening your doors to us again -- we wish you had been here when we arrived to see how truly grateful we were to be back in your beautiful home. Clem & Joyce Roeder for loaning us your van when our VW wagon died. Scott Pfitzinger, for loaning us his car and helping us sell the VW postmortem. And, of course, to all of our family & friends in STL who came out to Alton to visit us and cheer us on our way. You have ALL ALWAYS been there for us -- no matter what adventure we have undertaken. We are truly blessed and happy to have you all in our lives. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!
Farewell, for now…
Nick & Kelly.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Lost at Sea! (Three? Four times???)
We survived “the crossing” of the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico – barely…
When preparing to cross from Carrabelle to Tampa, there are essentially two routes to choose from: Direct cut-across the Gulf (shortest route,) or “end around” and hug the coastline (about 30 miles offshore) the whole way around. The end-around adds about 50 nautical miles to the journey. But, you are always a 30-mile run to shoreline -- in case something goes bump. Note: That’s “Crossing Theory #1.”
Crossing Theory # 2 is: The best time to cross is when the winds are blowing from the East, North, or Northeast. The worst time to cross is when the winds are from the South or Southwest. When the winds are from the East, they are on your bow (the easiest way to receive them,) and the wind and waves are usually less (because the Florida landmass helps to break them up before they enter the Gulf.) Whereas, when the winds blow-in from the Gulf (from the South,) they have more area to build intensity (of both the wind and the waves.) Plus, they would be hitting your boat sideways – rocking you left and right during the whole trip.
Crossing Theory #3: Winds/waves are less at night, when there is no heat of the day to feed them with energy.
So, as we prepared to depart, the weather forecast was: Winds out of the East, seas (waves) 1 foot or less. Even the harbormaster at the marina in Carrabelle said, “The weather looks PERFECT for a crossing.”
While living in Florida, we often saw the Gulf lay down to become as smooth as glass – especially at night. It becomes so flat, that it looks as if you could walk across its surface.
So, our “plan” seemed perfect. We had a great forecast, and we prepared for a 3am departure. We would perform the end-around course (in case something went bump and we needed to retreat to a safe harbor somewhere.) Our departure at night would ensure that the waters would be calm as we ventured out in the uncertainty of darkness in unfamiliar waters. By the time the sun came up (and waves began to build a bit to one-foot,) we would be halfway across already. By the time we get to the other side, the coastline should help cut the wave height down again – for a smooth ride southbound along the coast. Likewise, as the sun set, the waters would lay-down to flat seas again, and we would have a peaceful return to familiar waters.
Now, for the REALITY!
We laid-up behind the western side of the barrier island named Dog Island (just offshore from Carrabelle.) We only got about four hours of sleep before our departure. But, the weather window looked SO good, that we felt that waiting any longer would bring WORSE weather. So, we decided a lack of sleep was okay (we could get more during our “shifts” at the helm.) As a matter of fact, Kelly didn’t sleep AT ALL the night prior! But again, it’s okay, she could sleep while I drove the first shift from 3am until 10am or so.
I set my alarm for 2am (so we could perform our pre-departure run-up routines, and still get out on the water at 3am.)
The first “sign” that something was wrong, was that we were taking some wind & waves on the backside of the island (more wind than waves.) They WERE indeed out of the East, but a little stronger than expected (especially at night – things SHOULD BE much calmer at this hour…)
We had anchored in about 10 feet of water. But, it was REALLY close to a steep rise to SHALLOW water (only 3 feet deep.) When we anchored, the weather was REALLY calm. We feared that the change of tides, or a change in wind direction might “swing” our boat into shallow water (and cause us to become run aground in our sleep.) So, we opted to set a stern (second) anchor into deeper water. This would keep our backend from swinging into the shallows.
So, with heavy winds the next morning, our boat was really pushing sideways against BOTH anchors. It was difficult to get the boat out from between them. Kelly was at the helm on the flybridge, and trying to follow my directions on how to maneuver the motors/boat to get us unhooked. We must have let-out 300 feet of bow anchor line at one point – trying to maneuver! Then, reeled it all back in to try a different maneuver. After about four or five attempts, we FINALLY got ourselves aligned with the stern anchor, and drove backwards as quickly and straight as we could to collect it (success.) The bow anchor was easy after that. But, by the time we made four or five attempts – my hands were seriously rope-burned from tugging at the lines.
We exited on time at 3am, and by 3:21 we had cleared the channel and markers of Dog Island, and we were in the open Gulf. The wind was indeed from the East, but the wave height was already more than one-footers. In my mind, I kept telling myself (the waves will die-down as we get further east.) But, I was also thinking to myself, if the waves are this big at night – how big will they be when the heat of the day feeds them more energy?
We weren’t on the Gulf for more than 3 hours, before the waves claimed their first victim – Kelly got seasick! (Three times in about 30 minutes.) She tried to take some Dramamine, but she was puking it back up before it could settle-in and take effect.
We finally gave her some time at the helm (which usually helps to fight seasickness.) She took another dose right beforehand. So, this round “took,” and after about 30 minutes at the helm, she was ready to go pass out and sleep her way through these unwelcome rollers. “The waves won’t be as bad on the East side of the Gulf,” I reassured her.
Navigating at night is actually pretty kewl. You can see the lights of channel markers from pretty far away against the black sky. Unfortunately, not ALL of the channel markers have lights on them. So, you have to rely on your charts and GPS to help paint-in the missing pieces…
At least the sky was clear upon our departure. There were a million stars out, and they made night navigation easier. I’d just pick a star or group of stars on the horizon ahead of me, and then steer to them for 30 minutes or so. Since the stars cross the sky throughout the evening, I had to pick a new set of stars every half hour or so for a new/accurate bearing.
After about two hours of this, however, there were no stars on the lower-horizon (a sure-sign that there are clouds ahead blocking them out.) The moon was full, and as I approached the clouds over the next hour, I could see their outline into the sky. I could also see their base (but no stars beneath them…) a sign that there is either another row of clouds behind them, or rain ahead – or both!
I checked my GPS heading, and compared it to that of our mechanical, built-in compass. Traditional compasses are subject to something called “magnetic deviation.” They are SUPPOSED to be recalibrated when you relocate the boat to a new/different cruising area. We hadn’t had the chance to have our compasses recalibrated. So, I just had to make a mental note of the deviation.
Throughout the next few hours, I deviated from our heading here and there – to avoid storm cells. But, the cells were growing more intense, larger, and the gaps between them smaller and smaller. Plus, a WHOLE LINE of storm clouds were now forming behind us, and starting to catch-up to us as well.
Oh, and somewhere during all of this, the winds and seas changed directions. I think you can probably GUESS which direction they were now coming from – the South! We were now rocking left and right somewhat wildly. Kelly’s seasickness returned, but her stomach was empty now – dry heaves! Repeatedly!
Fortunately, the sun soon rose across the horizon (from behind the clouds.) So, we could now see the storm cells better. But, the sun was a mixed blessing. Sun – more heat, and intensified cell build-up…
Just as I was beginning to think that we (yet again) out-maneuvered Mother Nature… Apparently, Mother Nature woke up in a frisky mood, and wanted to tussle. Within less than a minute of thinking that I had cleared into the blue skies – the rains caught me from behind. No biggie, just some rain... right?
I began to turn a bit steeper towards the South now (in an effort to take the waves a bit more on the nose, and also to steer clear of the WORST storm that was about a mile off to our North.) I could see a literal wall of water to our left – I knew EXACTLY where that storm was! I wanted to give it a wide berth – in case it need to grow a bit. (I was praying that it would blow to the North – and it initially seemed to be doing exactly that.)
But again, just as I was counting my lucky stars – Mother Nature came to play…
I felt a STRONG cool breeze blow our way, and I could also see the wall of water growing closer, too. With that, I turned DUE SOUTH in an effort to run away from it. I ran for a few minutes, but the wind and storm were catching up to us!!!
QUICKLY, the wind from the North overcame the Southerly breeze and waves, and now served us 3-footers against our stern. How did they build-up so quickly from the COMPLETELY OPPOSITE direction?!!!! I had NO CLUE that the wind could change the waves that quickly!
The wind intensity just continued to build. I was doing about 8 mph due South, and the winds were RAGING against our backside now! (And they were still increasing!)
I then made a 100% gut-reaction, instinctive change. We had never had this boat in these kinda winds. But, my SAILing experience taught me that when the going gets rough, to ALWAYS POINT YOUR BOW into the wind! So, that I did!
As quickly as I could, I spun the boat (between rollers) and pointed her bow directly into the wind. Only seconds thereafter, the FULL FORCE of the waterfall wall of rain hit me square in the face.
The wind strength grew, and grew. I was now steering due North, directly into towards the heart of this storm. Just when I thought that the sky couldn’t dump any MORE gallons per minute upon us, Mother Nature seemed to then DOUBLE the volume of water (and the speed of the wind.) The intensity was truly amazing – words can’t describe it.
It was about this time, that Kelly came up to join me on the flybridge. We were both wearing our lifejackets, and holding on as tightly as possible.
It was at this time, that I began to HATE the lyrics of the Gilligan’s Island theme song… The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed…”
I wouldn’t really call our crew “fearless.” I was driving based more on instinct at this moment, than anything else. Kelly asked if we should go below. But, from our experience with rains on the rivers earlier in the cruise, I learned that the windshield becomes IMPOSSIBLE to see through with that much water hitting it. Plus, I’d be at a lower vantage point.
Folks, I have NEVER been in a storm this strong before. I was waiting for some sort of waterspout or tornado to appear. I was waiting for the raindrops to change to hail or ice or something. Neither of us was really sure of what to do. Kelly asked if we should call out to the Coast Guard on the VHF? “No, not yet,” I replied to her. We were both “safe” on the flybridge together. I felt that having one of us try to go below to use the VHF radio would put us at risk of accidentally going overboard. Also, I didn’t really see that we were necessarily “in danger.” Yes, it was SCARY. It was WILD & INTENSE! We were 100% out of our element and comfort zone, in an unfamiliar situation, in a fairly unfamiliar boat, in unfamiliar waters. But, we weren’t “in danger” of anything. We weren’t taking on water (sinking.) Our motors were both functioning properly. Our steering was functioning properly No one was injured. So, “no,” we don’t need to call the Coast Guard (yet…)
There was one GOOD thing about being in the middle of the Gulf (as opposed to being on a river in the Midwest.) Out here in the Gulf, there wasn’t a boat around ANYWHERE. We could see horizon-to-horizon before the storm – and there was NO ONE around. No land, no shallow water, to other boats – NOTHING. So, we had room to maneuver – LOTS of room!
I say all of this, because as we motored northward into the storm, and the intensity grew, it then unexpectedly changed directions! I had to immediately turn hard right into the East. I was worried about taking the waves from the North. But, surprisingly, the waves changed direction in-sync with the wind!
My most important instrument on that boat is not my compass, not my GPS, not my charts. I learned that my most important instrument on that boat, was the little Florida flag that Kelly had bought me for Father’s Day, and I had hung out front on the bow pole. I had contemplated uninstalling that bow-mounted flagpole. But, chose to adorn it with a Florida flag instead (for looks, not functionality.)
Now, that flag was serving as my tell-tale to the change in wind directions. I wasn’t watching radar, GPS, compass, or anything else. I was 100% steering based on the redirection of that little flag. If it even changed an inch, I’d redirect the boat accordingly! But, it wasn’t changing by inches. The wind was changing directions COMPLETELY. I was heading East, then South, and then WEST!!!
We were truly “lost at sea.” (Note: Lost at Sea #1) We covered the PC monitor on the flybridge, to prevent it from getting wet. It was of no use to us now anyway. We were steering based on gut & weather/winds now – not based on course/heading/bearing…
At one point, we seemed to enter some sort of “eye-like” feature in the middle of the storm. The winds were lighter, as was the rain. It was still raining, but just HUGE drizzle drops at this point. Around us, was a 360-degree curtain of rain – so thick, it looked almost like a fog. I knew that our pause in the middle would be short-lived. Pretty soon, this storm is going to push one way or the other, and we are going to be back in the thick of it again!
Just then, I saw a dolphin riding out in front of us. It was a truly reassuring sight. In the middle of this mini-hell, was such a beautiful creature – and the waters were truly blue here, too!
The winds in the middle were a bit shifty. I took advantage of this, to slowly attempt to get us pointed back to the East. It was more luck than anything else… Before I knew it, we were indeed pointing East, and entering the wall of water (again.) This side of the storm seemed a BIT lighter than the side we entered. Soon, we saw a lighter area of the wall – hint towards sunshine? I did my best to cheat our steering. Instead of dead into the wind, I turned a bit more northerly (steer into the light…)
We soon saw blue beyond us, and maintained our course (with fingers crossed, and Kelly now singing sun songs.)
We seemed to inch our way out the backside of the storm. It was slow, but a foot-by-foot improvement was a GOOD thing!
As we exited the rain and the storm cell, the seas returned from the South. We were now standing within INCHES of water on the flybridge – feet (and EVERYTHING else soaked.) It was still a rolling ride, but we were out of the rain now.
I went below to survey the damage. Kelly had told me that things got pretty tossed around below. But, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. It looked like an indoor tornado had passed through! Books, newspapers, magazines, etc. were EVERYWHERE. Things that were on shelves and counters, were now on the floor. Kelly had put some of the kitchen stuff (glasswares, knives, etc.) into the sink (to avoid injury/breakage.) But, pretty much everything else was EVERYWHERE.
And, there was water inside – LOTS of water – still POURING in from above!!! Onto the new laptop!!!!
Apparently, the water on the flybridge had gotten so deep, that it filled the area beneath the upper helm (instrument console.) It then poured down through the wiring holes (from the radar and such) down onto the lower-helm (and anything laying upon it.) The laptop was still working (at that moment.) I pulled it away from the stream of water pouring onto it. It died moments later… There goes our GPS and charts! (Note: Lost at Sea #2.)
I have another laptop, and we have Kelly’s laptop (and the original CDs to install the software on it.) I wanted to get our charts working again, but I was also now smelling SMOKE!!!!
I grabbed a fire extinguisher, and tried to determine where the fire was. It smelled like paper burning. With all the newspapers and such blowing around the cabin, I assumed that maybe a piece had blow down into the engine room, and caught fire down there. I opened the hatch door, but there was no smell and no fire down there. (You can’t imagine my relief!!!)
But, there was still a STRONG smell of fire/smoke/SOMETHING! It seemed strongest in the front cabin. I looked into the wiring closet – but, no fire/smell there, either. I looked in the forward head, it was also okay.
All I could think, was that it was the smell of an electrical fire (e.g. my laptop melting.) It was then, that I noticed that water was also pouring through the roof-mounted VHF radio, and the radar system!!! With all of those electronics taking on water, the smell HAD to be that of melting electrical components!
Satisfied that there was no fire, I put the extinguisher away, and shut-off pretty much EVERYTHING down there.
I then booted my old laptop, and attached the GPS. Just as the navigation software was loading – BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!!!
Go figure…
I figured that it was now faster (and more reliable) to load the mapping software and GPS drivers onto Kelly’s laptop (clean load,) than to attempt to troubleshoot my own laptop issues. It took me about 30 minutes to get the software installed/configured. While it was loading, I also cleaned the cabin up a bit.
To my surprise, after all of our blind navigation and such – we were actually back on our original course, heading in the right direction. (Compasses ARE actually helpful, after all.) Now, if I had just bought that backup VHF radio yesterday when I had it in my hand; or a handheld GPS, or a paper chart/map of the area.) Woulda, coulda, shoulda…
We are now out of cell phone range, our VHF radios are working as receivers, but not as transmitters. We are down to our third (final) laptop/gps. (And we are only six hours into our “adventure!”)
As I returned to the helm, I began to settle back in. Kelly went below to medicate/sleep some more. I looked-over Kelly’s laptop screen, and realized that it was running on battery power only. I didn’t want to bother/wake her to find the right (12-volt) power cord, nor mess with the power inverter (it had taken on some water, too.) I figured that her battery would last us about an hour. I could get a good bearing/heading during that hour, double-check to compass deviation, and then navigate via compass for another 2-3 hours (once the laptop runs out of power.) We were currently in 30-something feet of water. As we cut the corner at this angle, I had about 2-3 hours until we needed to make our turn to due-South. We would be getting a bit closer to the other shore by then, so the water depth would be about 20 feet deep by then. (That was my clue/hint.) I can steer our current Southeasterly course until I see a bottom depth of 20 feet on the depth gauge, then turn to due-South. Laptop or no laptop. Storm or no storm. GPS or no GPS. I now have “a plan” for MANUALLY finding our way home to Tampa.
The battery would certainly run out of juice in less than two hours. During that hour or so, I practiced navigating via compass only – preparing for the laptop to die-off. About 70 minutes later, the laptop indeed died (as planned this time.) (Note: Lost at sea #3 -- kinda.)
I didn’t want to wake Kelly until I NEEDED to. She has been having a rough crossing, and if she could sleep through some of it – all the better!
I navigated for another two hours without knowing our EXACT location. I had a heading, and a placemark for when to make our turn to due-South. But, I didn’t REALLY know where we were anymore. I was just streering a heading and using “dead reckoning” at this point. (There is that “dead” word again…)
Note: We never really “feared for our lives.” Granted, this was probably the most terrorized either of us has ever been before. I can’t IMAGINE trying to be aboard a slow boat during anything heavier/worse! I figure that we had simply passed through a squall. Our boat didn’t get “knocked down” or “knocked over” like sailboats often do during these high-wind events. They are designed to pop back upright. But, their indoor tornados would look more like indoor hurricanes if they rolled over 360 degrees (or simply fell to 90- degrees, and then bounced back to upright.) Plus, that kinda action can leave sailors with bodily injury, and also cause the mast of the boat to get bent/broken off. (And tear or rip sails clear off the mast.) Similarly, smaller powerboats (even faster little runabouts) that are not designed with self-bailing decks, would have freshwater drowned in that storm. They would have taken on so much water, that it would have flooded the engine room, and killed the motor. Their little bilge pumps would NOT have been able to keep up with the storm! With all that water aboard, they would have sat a bit squattier in the water, too. With no engine to maneuver the bow into the wind, and the size of the waves, they would eventually start taking waves over the gunwales (sides) and swamped/sunk the boat.
We, however, felt somewhat “safe” in our trawler. It rocked and rolled like a carnival ride. But, it was obviously “working as designed.” It’s designed like a fishing bobber. It weebles and wobbles, but doesn’t fall over. LOTS of water can awash her decks, and then run out over the sides again. Granted, it’s not a comfortable ride during these events. However, “comfort” is a relative and negotiable item at this point. (e.g. I’d rather be on this boat – or a LARGER/FASTER one. But, it’s better than being on a smaller/slower boat…)
We didn’t “fear for our lives.” We felt semi-safe in our little tug-like boat. I listened to our last/final VHF radio, to see if anyone would need our assistance after the storm. There were a few other calls for help/assistance. But, they were WAY behind us, and getting help from other directions/boats. One had lost its steering. Another was taking on water (unknown reason why.) But, we were safe and sound.
Preparation: Before our departure in St. Louis, I put in some serious time (and money) working out as many kinks as possible (especially with the motors.) The motors had a fuel delivery/supply issue, which would cause them to die every now and then (unpredictably.) Once they were fuel-starved, it took lots of time/effort to bleed the air out of the fuel lines, and get the motors restarted. (I can’t imagine trying to do that during this recent storm event.) THANKFULLY, my efforts in St. Louis paid off. The motors have ALWAYS fired-up on-demand during this entire trip. They have purred like kittens. The few “alarms/alerts” that they have sounded, were due to us pushing them a bit too hard (too long.) I simply needed to back off the throttles a bit (for awhile.) Things would cool-off, and alarms would self-silence themselves. So, on this crossing, I set the motors at a “comfortable” and conservative setting. During the entire 27 hour journey, the motors never missed a beat or gave us a single complaint.
A few hours later, the depths on the gauge were getting lower. We putted our way into the upper 20s, then the middle 20s, and finally the lower 20s. Once I saw my first “22” reading, I called down below to wake Kelly, so she could take the helm.
I went below to find the 12-volt power cord for her laptop. I found it, and it was in a dry place. When I plugged it in, however, the charging light flip-flopped between “charge” and “battery.” This is a sign that it’s not getting enough 12-volt supply.
No biggie. I know how to fix this issue!!! MORE POWER!!! In the tossing seas, I went below to start our generator, to give us some REAL power. (It would also give us some welcomed air conditioning, and other creature comforts.) In doing so, however, I somehow seemed to short-out the starter relay! Click, after empty “click.” Repeatedly, I tried to start the generator. Repeatedly, same results… No generator – no power. (We do have a second generator on deck. But, dealing with it in these seas would be a hassle. And, I ONLY needed enough power for her laptop.)
With the generator at least temporarily dead, I realized that I could use it’s dedicated 12-volt battery, to provide a SOLID/dedicated source of power for her laptop. So, I attached a set of jumper cables to the generator battery, and attached the other side to a power inverter. BINGO! We have juice!
Are we having fun yet?
I restarted her laptop, and we now had a GPS fix on our position. After HOURS of dead reckoning, we were EXACTLY where we needed to be. We were turning EXACTLY at the right point to put us on our southerly course/line. (I feared that if we had a mechanical breakdown while cutting the corner – that we would be difficult for rescuers to find.) But, now that we were back onto our pre-published route, we would be “findable” should something go wrong. The Coast Guard could simply fly our course, and find us.
We had contemplated going inland around here. But, there’s something NOT RIGHT about “running to safety” towards a place named “Deadman’s Creek/Cove” or something like that. (It had the word “deadman” in the name – I know that!)
Instead, we went ahead and turned more southward. I charted alternate courses towards two other “possible” hurricane hideouts to retreat toward (they were still BOTH at least three hours in front of us.)
We researched both of these “safety harbors” a bit further. Unfortunately, the news about both of them was the same: “shallow water approaches – only for boats with drafts of 2 feet or less.” Combined with the words, “no services.” WHAT KINDA OPTIONS ARE THESE???!!!!
Lesson learned: Don’t take the long way around. You are just as much “at risk” six hours offshore from the end-around route, as you are if you cut straight across. Help is not going to get there any faster. And, there are no “easy out” places to run and hide and lick your wounds. You have to put your nose to the wind, and keep plodding along with what you’ve got.
At least the wind and waves are now on our bow as we head southbound. After noon, they even seemed to calm down (a bit) to maybe only two-footers? The sun came out, and helped dry us out a bit.
Kelly was now in and out of consciousness. She medicated herself pretty heavily to combat the seasickness. So, at times, she would simply sleep for hours on end. When she was awake, I tried to give her some time at the helm (to help combat the seasickness) while I did other chores. I would grab a quick bite to eat/snack, or a catnap. I had about 50-60 minutes to do my thing, before she’d get drowsy or sick again, and medicate herself back to sleep. I felt so sorry for her. She said that she vomited something like six times. But, that doesn’t count the blurps that she basically choked back down during the storm from hell and such. (Gross!) (Poor girl…)
I felt green a few times myself. I almost wanted to vomit in sympathy with her. But, I knew that once I started, I wouldn’t stop. So, I fought it off as best as I could. (I used the Dramamine once myself as well.)
All day, dolphins would literally RACE from a ½-mile away or so towards our boat and bow. They were literally leaping out of the water one after the other to spot our boat over the waves –as they seemed to race each other to our bow.
The visibility was now crystal-clear, and at least 30-40 feet deep. I could now see their WHOLE bodies PERFECTLY, as they danced and zoomed below our boat. Initially, I thought that they were only riding our bow waves. But, now that I can see them completely, I see a much different scene. They literally dance and race beneath and around our entire boat. It’s like our boat is some sort of big whale or mothership – and they taunt and dance with it (and each other.) You can see their heads bounce and jitter, as they apparently squeak and chirp at each other – nodding their heads to one another as they communicate. I can’t hear them, but it’s that familiar head-bobbing nod that you see on Flipper and at the dolphin shows at the zoo/theme park.
Kelly was asleep for most of these events. She was awake for the most impressive event, however. EASILY two dozen (maybe three-dozen) spotted dolphins came racing towards us – head-on. As they reached our boat, they literally swarmed us! They were jumping around our bow, down both side, and behind us in our wake. There were big ones, and babies, too! (They are REALLY cute!) The little ones were only 2.5 to 3 feet long. Kelly was up front on the bow, cheering and clapping them during their performance. At one point, one of the dolphins even returned her applause – with a tail-splash to get her wet. This swarm of dolphins followed with us for 20-30 minutes!!!
It was about 5 or 6 pm now. (The hours seemed to go on, and on, and on – and blend into one another.)
As the sun set, Kelly was sawing logs like a TRUE SAILOR! (We had truly earned our stripes during this cruise – and we were only halfway done with it.)
Just before the sun set, we seemed to start (finally) taking turns at the helm. I’d drive a couple of hours, then she would take the helm for a few. I’d catch a quick catnap, or tend to some chores. Then, flip-flop with her. As midnight approached, however, we were both having trouble staying awake. It was just about then, that some evening storms began to build. First, they were ashore (to our left again.) A few hours later, the tail of the row of clouds began to move offshore – into our path. We were going to HAVE to go through another storm – like it or not (mostly NOT!)
I woke Kelly up, so we could batten down the hatches, and prepare for another rainstorm and blow. Kelly didn’t want to do another storm from the flybridge. And with it being dark now, I was going to be able to see more from below (charts and the flag) than I would have from above. (We could also keep the indoor tornado under control.)
The HARD rains never came (thankfully.) Instead, just light rains, HEAVY winds, and BIGGER seas! Just the right prescription to cure my drowsiness! Adrenalin = the miracle drug. (Well, for SOME of us…)
Sailor Kelly was sawing logs again. It seemed like the bigger the seas, the bigger the logs she was sawing. I could hear an occasional small thump against the hull. 90% of those were probably just the floats from crab pots. But, there was this ONE unique THUMP/THUD! At the time it occurred, all I could think, was that it sounded like we hit a kayak. But, the sound was more like hitting a suitcase or something? Maybe some floating trash/box? Later, I assumed that it was probably, actually, the shell of a sea turtle bouncing off our hull. It didn’t drag down the whole length of the hull – as you would assume from hitting a kayak or other floating trash. Instead, after the initial thump at the bow, it seemed to get/swim away.
We fought heavy seas, hour after hour, all the way to our destination island of Anclote Key. The waves didn’t lay down until we were about one mile offshore. I (we) were truly exhausted – 26 hours of this stuff!
We just wanted to drop anchor right in the middle of the shipping channel. Kelly asked me to speed-up the motors, to get us there sooner. I just didn’t want to risk anything else. We had lost computers, radios, generator, etc. They say that once you start a diesel, you aren’t supposed to shut it down until you drop anchor at your destination. I figured that I didn’t want to tempt fate (or Murphy.) I didn’t TOUCH those throttles until we were ready to slow down and stop. We maneuvered about another hour to get into the proper anchoring area behind the key. After 27 hours or reliable, constant purring, , I FINALLY shutdown the motors and gave those kittens a well-deserved break.
At 6am, we dropped the hook into about nine feet of water – luckily, it hooked-up on the first try. The sun was about to rise, but we were going to bed! We didn’t have cell service all day, so I took just a few minutes to post an update to our blog, to let everyone know that we were safe. Then, it was lights out! (At least for five hours…)
Side note:
10 Stupidest Things I have Ever Done
1.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
2.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
3.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
4.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
5.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
6.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
7.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
8.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
9.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
10.) Long-distance cruise a boat from St. Louis to Tampa
When preparing to cross from Carrabelle to Tampa, there are essentially two routes to choose from: Direct cut-across the Gulf (shortest route,) or “end around” and hug the coastline (about 30 miles offshore) the whole way around. The end-around adds about 50 nautical miles to the journey. But, you are always a 30-mile run to shoreline -- in case something goes bump. Note: That’s “Crossing Theory #1.”
Crossing Theory # 2 is: The best time to cross is when the winds are blowing from the East, North, or Northeast. The worst time to cross is when the winds are from the South or Southwest. When the winds are from the East, they are on your bow (the easiest way to receive them,) and the wind and waves are usually less (because the Florida landmass helps to break them up before they enter the Gulf.) Whereas, when the winds blow-in from the Gulf (from the South,) they have more area to build intensity (of both the wind and the waves.) Plus, they would be hitting your boat sideways – rocking you left and right during the whole trip.
Crossing Theory #3: Winds/waves are less at night, when there is no heat of the day to feed them with energy.
So, as we prepared to depart, the weather forecast was: Winds out of the East, seas (waves) 1 foot or less. Even the harbormaster at the marina in Carrabelle said, “The weather looks PERFECT for a crossing.”
While living in Florida, we often saw the Gulf lay down to become as smooth as glass – especially at night. It becomes so flat, that it looks as if you could walk across its surface.
So, our “plan” seemed perfect. We had a great forecast, and we prepared for a 3am departure. We would perform the end-around course (in case something went bump and we needed to retreat to a safe harbor somewhere.) Our departure at night would ensure that the waters would be calm as we ventured out in the uncertainty of darkness in unfamiliar waters. By the time the sun came up (and waves began to build a bit to one-foot,) we would be halfway across already. By the time we get to the other side, the coastline should help cut the wave height down again – for a smooth ride southbound along the coast. Likewise, as the sun set, the waters would lay-down to flat seas again, and we would have a peaceful return to familiar waters.
Now, for the REALITY!
We laid-up behind the western side of the barrier island named Dog Island (just offshore from Carrabelle.) We only got about four hours of sleep before our departure. But, the weather window looked SO good, that we felt that waiting any longer would bring WORSE weather. So, we decided a lack of sleep was okay (we could get more during our “shifts” at the helm.) As a matter of fact, Kelly didn’t sleep AT ALL the night prior! But again, it’s okay, she could sleep while I drove the first shift from 3am until 10am or so.
I set my alarm for 2am (so we could perform our pre-departure run-up routines, and still get out on the water at 3am.)
The first “sign” that something was wrong, was that we were taking some wind & waves on the backside of the island (more wind than waves.) They WERE indeed out of the East, but a little stronger than expected (especially at night – things SHOULD BE much calmer at this hour…)
We had anchored in about 10 feet of water. But, it was REALLY close to a steep rise to SHALLOW water (only 3 feet deep.) When we anchored, the weather was REALLY calm. We feared that the change of tides, or a change in wind direction might “swing” our boat into shallow water (and cause us to become run aground in our sleep.) So, we opted to set a stern (second) anchor into deeper water. This would keep our backend from swinging into the shallows.
So, with heavy winds the next morning, our boat was really pushing sideways against BOTH anchors. It was difficult to get the boat out from between them. Kelly was at the helm on the flybridge, and trying to follow my directions on how to maneuver the motors/boat to get us unhooked. We must have let-out 300 feet of bow anchor line at one point – trying to maneuver! Then, reeled it all back in to try a different maneuver. After about four or five attempts, we FINALLY got ourselves aligned with the stern anchor, and drove backwards as quickly and straight as we could to collect it (success.) The bow anchor was easy after that. But, by the time we made four or five attempts – my hands were seriously rope-burned from tugging at the lines.
We exited on time at 3am, and by 3:21 we had cleared the channel and markers of Dog Island, and we were in the open Gulf. The wind was indeed from the East, but the wave height was already more than one-footers. In my mind, I kept telling myself (the waves will die-down as we get further east.) But, I was also thinking to myself, if the waves are this big at night – how big will they be when the heat of the day feeds them more energy?
We weren’t on the Gulf for more than 3 hours, before the waves claimed their first victim – Kelly got seasick! (Three times in about 30 minutes.) She tried to take some Dramamine, but she was puking it back up before it could settle-in and take effect.
We finally gave her some time at the helm (which usually helps to fight seasickness.) She took another dose right beforehand. So, this round “took,” and after about 30 minutes at the helm, she was ready to go pass out and sleep her way through these unwelcome rollers. “The waves won’t be as bad on the East side of the Gulf,” I reassured her.
Navigating at night is actually pretty kewl. You can see the lights of channel markers from pretty far away against the black sky. Unfortunately, not ALL of the channel markers have lights on them. So, you have to rely on your charts and GPS to help paint-in the missing pieces…
At least the sky was clear upon our departure. There were a million stars out, and they made night navigation easier. I’d just pick a star or group of stars on the horizon ahead of me, and then steer to them for 30 minutes or so. Since the stars cross the sky throughout the evening, I had to pick a new set of stars every half hour or so for a new/accurate bearing.
After about two hours of this, however, there were no stars on the lower-horizon (a sure-sign that there are clouds ahead blocking them out.) The moon was full, and as I approached the clouds over the next hour, I could see their outline into the sky. I could also see their base (but no stars beneath them…) a sign that there is either another row of clouds behind them, or rain ahead – or both!
I checked my GPS heading, and compared it to that of our mechanical, built-in compass. Traditional compasses are subject to something called “magnetic deviation.” They are SUPPOSED to be recalibrated when you relocate the boat to a new/different cruising area. We hadn’t had the chance to have our compasses recalibrated. So, I just had to make a mental note of the deviation.
Throughout the next few hours, I deviated from our heading here and there – to avoid storm cells. But, the cells were growing more intense, larger, and the gaps between them smaller and smaller. Plus, a WHOLE LINE of storm clouds were now forming behind us, and starting to catch-up to us as well.
Oh, and somewhere during all of this, the winds and seas changed directions. I think you can probably GUESS which direction they were now coming from – the South! We were now rocking left and right somewhat wildly. Kelly’s seasickness returned, but her stomach was empty now – dry heaves! Repeatedly!
Fortunately, the sun soon rose across the horizon (from behind the clouds.) So, we could now see the storm cells better. But, the sun was a mixed blessing. Sun – more heat, and intensified cell build-up…
Just as I was beginning to think that we (yet again) out-maneuvered Mother Nature… Apparently, Mother Nature woke up in a frisky mood, and wanted to tussle. Within less than a minute of thinking that I had cleared into the blue skies – the rains caught me from behind. No biggie, just some rain... right?
I began to turn a bit steeper towards the South now (in an effort to take the waves a bit more on the nose, and also to steer clear of the WORST storm that was about a mile off to our North.) I could see a literal wall of water to our left – I knew EXACTLY where that storm was! I wanted to give it a wide berth – in case it need to grow a bit. (I was praying that it would blow to the North – and it initially seemed to be doing exactly that.)
But again, just as I was counting my lucky stars – Mother Nature came to play…
I felt a STRONG cool breeze blow our way, and I could also see the wall of water growing closer, too. With that, I turned DUE SOUTH in an effort to run away from it. I ran for a few minutes, but the wind and storm were catching up to us!!!
QUICKLY, the wind from the North overcame the Southerly breeze and waves, and now served us 3-footers against our stern. How did they build-up so quickly from the COMPLETELY OPPOSITE direction?!!!! I had NO CLUE that the wind could change the waves that quickly!
The wind intensity just continued to build. I was doing about 8 mph due South, and the winds were RAGING against our backside now! (And they were still increasing!)
I then made a 100% gut-reaction, instinctive change. We had never had this boat in these kinda winds. But, my SAILing experience taught me that when the going gets rough, to ALWAYS POINT YOUR BOW into the wind! So, that I did!
As quickly as I could, I spun the boat (between rollers) and pointed her bow directly into the wind. Only seconds thereafter, the FULL FORCE of the waterfall wall of rain hit me square in the face.
The wind strength grew, and grew. I was now steering due North, directly into towards the heart of this storm. Just when I thought that the sky couldn’t dump any MORE gallons per minute upon us, Mother Nature seemed to then DOUBLE the volume of water (and the speed of the wind.) The intensity was truly amazing – words can’t describe it.
It was about this time, that Kelly came up to join me on the flybridge. We were both wearing our lifejackets, and holding on as tightly as possible.
It was at this time, that I began to HATE the lyrics of the Gilligan’s Island theme song… The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed…”
I wouldn’t really call our crew “fearless.” I was driving based more on instinct at this moment, than anything else. Kelly asked if we should go below. But, from our experience with rains on the rivers earlier in the cruise, I learned that the windshield becomes IMPOSSIBLE to see through with that much water hitting it. Plus, I’d be at a lower vantage point.
Folks, I have NEVER been in a storm this strong before. I was waiting for some sort of waterspout or tornado to appear. I was waiting for the raindrops to change to hail or ice or something. Neither of us was really sure of what to do. Kelly asked if we should call out to the Coast Guard on the VHF? “No, not yet,” I replied to her. We were both “safe” on the flybridge together. I felt that having one of us try to go below to use the VHF radio would put us at risk of accidentally going overboard. Also, I didn’t really see that we were necessarily “in danger.” Yes, it was SCARY. It was WILD & INTENSE! We were 100% out of our element and comfort zone, in an unfamiliar situation, in a fairly unfamiliar boat, in unfamiliar waters. But, we weren’t “in danger” of anything. We weren’t taking on water (sinking.) Our motors were both functioning properly. Our steering was functioning properly No one was injured. So, “no,” we don’t need to call the Coast Guard (yet…)
There was one GOOD thing about being in the middle of the Gulf (as opposed to being on a river in the Midwest.) Out here in the Gulf, there wasn’t a boat around ANYWHERE. We could see horizon-to-horizon before the storm – and there was NO ONE around. No land, no shallow water, to other boats – NOTHING. So, we had room to maneuver – LOTS of room!
I say all of this, because as we motored northward into the storm, and the intensity grew, it then unexpectedly changed directions! I had to immediately turn hard right into the East. I was worried about taking the waves from the North. But, surprisingly, the waves changed direction in-sync with the wind!
My most important instrument on that boat is not my compass, not my GPS, not my charts. I learned that my most important instrument on that boat, was the little Florida flag that Kelly had bought me for Father’s Day, and I had hung out front on the bow pole. I had contemplated uninstalling that bow-mounted flagpole. But, chose to adorn it with a Florida flag instead (for looks, not functionality.)
Now, that flag was serving as my tell-tale to the change in wind directions. I wasn’t watching radar, GPS, compass, or anything else. I was 100% steering based on the redirection of that little flag. If it even changed an inch, I’d redirect the boat accordingly! But, it wasn’t changing by inches. The wind was changing directions COMPLETELY. I was heading East, then South, and then WEST!!!
We were truly “lost at sea.” (Note: Lost at Sea #1) We covered the PC monitor on the flybridge, to prevent it from getting wet. It was of no use to us now anyway. We were steering based on gut & weather/winds now – not based on course/heading/bearing…
At one point, we seemed to enter some sort of “eye-like” feature in the middle of the storm. The winds were lighter, as was the rain. It was still raining, but just HUGE drizzle drops at this point. Around us, was a 360-degree curtain of rain – so thick, it looked almost like a fog. I knew that our pause in the middle would be short-lived. Pretty soon, this storm is going to push one way or the other, and we are going to be back in the thick of it again!
Just then, I saw a dolphin riding out in front of us. It was a truly reassuring sight. In the middle of this mini-hell, was such a beautiful creature – and the waters were truly blue here, too!
The winds in the middle were a bit shifty. I took advantage of this, to slowly attempt to get us pointed back to the East. It was more luck than anything else… Before I knew it, we were indeed pointing East, and entering the wall of water (again.) This side of the storm seemed a BIT lighter than the side we entered. Soon, we saw a lighter area of the wall – hint towards sunshine? I did my best to cheat our steering. Instead of dead into the wind, I turned a bit more northerly (steer into the light…)
We soon saw blue beyond us, and maintained our course (with fingers crossed, and Kelly now singing sun songs.)
We seemed to inch our way out the backside of the storm. It was slow, but a foot-by-foot improvement was a GOOD thing!
As we exited the rain and the storm cell, the seas returned from the South. We were now standing within INCHES of water on the flybridge – feet (and EVERYTHING else soaked.) It was still a rolling ride, but we were out of the rain now.
I went below to survey the damage. Kelly had told me that things got pretty tossed around below. But, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. It looked like an indoor tornado had passed through! Books, newspapers, magazines, etc. were EVERYWHERE. Things that were on shelves and counters, were now on the floor. Kelly had put some of the kitchen stuff (glasswares, knives, etc.) into the sink (to avoid injury/breakage.) But, pretty much everything else was EVERYWHERE.
And, there was water inside – LOTS of water – still POURING in from above!!! Onto the new laptop!!!!
Apparently, the water on the flybridge had gotten so deep, that it filled the area beneath the upper helm (instrument console.) It then poured down through the wiring holes (from the radar and such) down onto the lower-helm (and anything laying upon it.) The laptop was still working (at that moment.) I pulled it away from the stream of water pouring onto it. It died moments later… There goes our GPS and charts! (Note: Lost at Sea #2.)
I have another laptop, and we have Kelly’s laptop (and the original CDs to install the software on it.) I wanted to get our charts working again, but I was also now smelling SMOKE!!!!
I grabbed a fire extinguisher, and tried to determine where the fire was. It smelled like paper burning. With all the newspapers and such blowing around the cabin, I assumed that maybe a piece had blow down into the engine room, and caught fire down there. I opened the hatch door, but there was no smell and no fire down there. (You can’t imagine my relief!!!)
But, there was still a STRONG smell of fire/smoke/SOMETHING! It seemed strongest in the front cabin. I looked into the wiring closet – but, no fire/smell there, either. I looked in the forward head, it was also okay.
All I could think, was that it was the smell of an electrical fire (e.g. my laptop melting.) It was then, that I noticed that water was also pouring through the roof-mounted VHF radio, and the radar system!!! With all of those electronics taking on water, the smell HAD to be that of melting electrical components!
Satisfied that there was no fire, I put the extinguisher away, and shut-off pretty much EVERYTHING down there.
I then booted my old laptop, and attached the GPS. Just as the navigation software was loading – BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!!!
Go figure…
I figured that it was now faster (and more reliable) to load the mapping software and GPS drivers onto Kelly’s laptop (clean load,) than to attempt to troubleshoot my own laptop issues. It took me about 30 minutes to get the software installed/configured. While it was loading, I also cleaned the cabin up a bit.
To my surprise, after all of our blind navigation and such – we were actually back on our original course, heading in the right direction. (Compasses ARE actually helpful, after all.) Now, if I had just bought that backup VHF radio yesterday when I had it in my hand; or a handheld GPS, or a paper chart/map of the area.) Woulda, coulda, shoulda…
We are now out of cell phone range, our VHF radios are working as receivers, but not as transmitters. We are down to our third (final) laptop/gps. (And we are only six hours into our “adventure!”)
As I returned to the helm, I began to settle back in. Kelly went below to medicate/sleep some more. I looked-over Kelly’s laptop screen, and realized that it was running on battery power only. I didn’t want to bother/wake her to find the right (12-volt) power cord, nor mess with the power inverter (it had taken on some water, too.) I figured that her battery would last us about an hour. I could get a good bearing/heading during that hour, double-check to compass deviation, and then navigate via compass for another 2-3 hours (once the laptop runs out of power.) We were currently in 30-something feet of water. As we cut the corner at this angle, I had about 2-3 hours until we needed to make our turn to due-South. We would be getting a bit closer to the other shore by then, so the water depth would be about 20 feet deep by then. (That was my clue/hint.) I can steer our current Southeasterly course until I see a bottom depth of 20 feet on the depth gauge, then turn to due-South. Laptop or no laptop. Storm or no storm. GPS or no GPS. I now have “a plan” for MANUALLY finding our way home to Tampa.
The battery would certainly run out of juice in less than two hours. During that hour or so, I practiced navigating via compass only – preparing for the laptop to die-off. About 70 minutes later, the laptop indeed died (as planned this time.) (Note: Lost at sea #3 -- kinda.)
I didn’t want to wake Kelly until I NEEDED to. She has been having a rough crossing, and if she could sleep through some of it – all the better!
I navigated for another two hours without knowing our EXACT location. I had a heading, and a placemark for when to make our turn to due-South. But, I didn’t REALLY know where we were anymore. I was just streering a heading and using “dead reckoning” at this point. (There is that “dead” word again…)
Note: We never really “feared for our lives.” Granted, this was probably the most terrorized either of us has ever been before. I can’t IMAGINE trying to be aboard a slow boat during anything heavier/worse! I figure that we had simply passed through a squall. Our boat didn’t get “knocked down” or “knocked over” like sailboats often do during these high-wind events. They are designed to pop back upright. But, their indoor tornados would look more like indoor hurricanes if they rolled over 360 degrees (or simply fell to 90- degrees, and then bounced back to upright.) Plus, that kinda action can leave sailors with bodily injury, and also cause the mast of the boat to get bent/broken off. (And tear or rip sails clear off the mast.) Similarly, smaller powerboats (even faster little runabouts) that are not designed with self-bailing decks, would have freshwater drowned in that storm. They would have taken on so much water, that it would have flooded the engine room, and killed the motor. Their little bilge pumps would NOT have been able to keep up with the storm! With all that water aboard, they would have sat a bit squattier in the water, too. With no engine to maneuver the bow into the wind, and the size of the waves, they would eventually start taking waves over the gunwales (sides) and swamped/sunk the boat.
We, however, felt somewhat “safe” in our trawler. It rocked and rolled like a carnival ride. But, it was obviously “working as designed.” It’s designed like a fishing bobber. It weebles and wobbles, but doesn’t fall over. LOTS of water can awash her decks, and then run out over the sides again. Granted, it’s not a comfortable ride during these events. However, “comfort” is a relative and negotiable item at this point. (e.g. I’d rather be on this boat – or a LARGER/FASTER one. But, it’s better than being on a smaller/slower boat…)
We didn’t “fear for our lives.” We felt semi-safe in our little tug-like boat. I listened to our last/final VHF radio, to see if anyone would need our assistance after the storm. There were a few other calls for help/assistance. But, they were WAY behind us, and getting help from other directions/boats. One had lost its steering. Another was taking on water (unknown reason why.) But, we were safe and sound.
Preparation: Before our departure in St. Louis, I put in some serious time (and money) working out as many kinks as possible (especially with the motors.) The motors had a fuel delivery/supply issue, which would cause them to die every now and then (unpredictably.) Once they were fuel-starved, it took lots of time/effort to bleed the air out of the fuel lines, and get the motors restarted. (I can’t imagine trying to do that during this recent storm event.) THANKFULLY, my efforts in St. Louis paid off. The motors have ALWAYS fired-up on-demand during this entire trip. They have purred like kittens. The few “alarms/alerts” that they have sounded, were due to us pushing them a bit too hard (too long.) I simply needed to back off the throttles a bit (for awhile.) Things would cool-off, and alarms would self-silence themselves. So, on this crossing, I set the motors at a “comfortable” and conservative setting. During the entire 27 hour journey, the motors never missed a beat or gave us a single complaint.
A few hours later, the depths on the gauge were getting lower. We putted our way into the upper 20s, then the middle 20s, and finally the lower 20s. Once I saw my first “22” reading, I called down below to wake Kelly, so she could take the helm.
I went below to find the 12-volt power cord for her laptop. I found it, and it was in a dry place. When I plugged it in, however, the charging light flip-flopped between “charge” and “battery.” This is a sign that it’s not getting enough 12-volt supply.
No biggie. I know how to fix this issue!!! MORE POWER!!! In the tossing seas, I went below to start our generator, to give us some REAL power. (It would also give us some welcomed air conditioning, and other creature comforts.) In doing so, however, I somehow seemed to short-out the starter relay! Click, after empty “click.” Repeatedly, I tried to start the generator. Repeatedly, same results… No generator – no power. (We do have a second generator on deck. But, dealing with it in these seas would be a hassle. And, I ONLY needed enough power for her laptop.)
With the generator at least temporarily dead, I realized that I could use it’s dedicated 12-volt battery, to provide a SOLID/dedicated source of power for her laptop. So, I attached a set of jumper cables to the generator battery, and attached the other side to a power inverter. BINGO! We have juice!
Are we having fun yet?
I restarted her laptop, and we now had a GPS fix on our position. After HOURS of dead reckoning, we were EXACTLY where we needed to be. We were turning EXACTLY at the right point to put us on our southerly course/line. (I feared that if we had a mechanical breakdown while cutting the corner – that we would be difficult for rescuers to find.) But, now that we were back onto our pre-published route, we would be “findable” should something go wrong. The Coast Guard could simply fly our course, and find us.
We had contemplated going inland around here. But, there’s something NOT RIGHT about “running to safety” towards a place named “Deadman’s Creek/Cove” or something like that. (It had the word “deadman” in the name – I know that!)
Instead, we went ahead and turned more southward. I charted alternate courses towards two other “possible” hurricane hideouts to retreat toward (they were still BOTH at least three hours in front of us.)
We researched both of these “safety harbors” a bit further. Unfortunately, the news about both of them was the same: “shallow water approaches – only for boats with drafts of 2 feet or less.” Combined with the words, “no services.” WHAT KINDA OPTIONS ARE THESE???!!!!
Lesson learned: Don’t take the long way around. You are just as much “at risk” six hours offshore from the end-around route, as you are if you cut straight across. Help is not going to get there any faster. And, there are no “easy out” places to run and hide and lick your wounds. You have to put your nose to the wind, and keep plodding along with what you’ve got.
At least the wind and waves are now on our bow as we head southbound. After noon, they even seemed to calm down (a bit) to maybe only two-footers? The sun came out, and helped dry us out a bit.
Kelly was now in and out of consciousness. She medicated herself pretty heavily to combat the seasickness. So, at times, she would simply sleep for hours on end. When she was awake, I tried to give her some time at the helm (to help combat the seasickness) while I did other chores. I would grab a quick bite to eat/snack, or a catnap. I had about 50-60 minutes to do my thing, before she’d get drowsy or sick again, and medicate herself back to sleep. I felt so sorry for her. She said that she vomited something like six times. But, that doesn’t count the blurps that she basically choked back down during the storm from hell and such. (Gross!) (Poor girl…)
I felt green a few times myself. I almost wanted to vomit in sympathy with her. But, I knew that once I started, I wouldn’t stop. So, I fought it off as best as I could. (I used the Dramamine once myself as well.)
All day, dolphins would literally RACE from a ½-mile away or so towards our boat and bow. They were literally leaping out of the water one after the other to spot our boat over the waves –as they seemed to race each other to our bow.
The visibility was now crystal-clear, and at least 30-40 feet deep. I could now see their WHOLE bodies PERFECTLY, as they danced and zoomed below our boat. Initially, I thought that they were only riding our bow waves. But, now that I can see them completely, I see a much different scene. They literally dance and race beneath and around our entire boat. It’s like our boat is some sort of big whale or mothership – and they taunt and dance with it (and each other.) You can see their heads bounce and jitter, as they apparently squeak and chirp at each other – nodding their heads to one another as they communicate. I can’t hear them, but it’s that familiar head-bobbing nod that you see on Flipper and at the dolphin shows at the zoo/theme park.
Kelly was asleep for most of these events. She was awake for the most impressive event, however. EASILY two dozen (maybe three-dozen) spotted dolphins came racing towards us – head-on. As they reached our boat, they literally swarmed us! They were jumping around our bow, down both side, and behind us in our wake. There were big ones, and babies, too! (They are REALLY cute!) The little ones were only 2.5 to 3 feet long. Kelly was up front on the bow, cheering and clapping them during their performance. At one point, one of the dolphins even returned her applause – with a tail-splash to get her wet. This swarm of dolphins followed with us for 20-30 minutes!!!
It was about 5 or 6 pm now. (The hours seemed to go on, and on, and on – and blend into one another.)
As the sun set, Kelly was sawing logs like a TRUE SAILOR! (We had truly earned our stripes during this cruise – and we were only halfway done with it.)
Just before the sun set, we seemed to start (finally) taking turns at the helm. I’d drive a couple of hours, then she would take the helm for a few. I’d catch a quick catnap, or tend to some chores. Then, flip-flop with her. As midnight approached, however, we were both having trouble staying awake. It was just about then, that some evening storms began to build. First, they were ashore (to our left again.) A few hours later, the tail of the row of clouds began to move offshore – into our path. We were going to HAVE to go through another storm – like it or not (mostly NOT!)
I woke Kelly up, so we could batten down the hatches, and prepare for another rainstorm and blow. Kelly didn’t want to do another storm from the flybridge. And with it being dark now, I was going to be able to see more from below (charts and the flag) than I would have from above. (We could also keep the indoor tornado under control.)
The HARD rains never came (thankfully.) Instead, just light rains, HEAVY winds, and BIGGER seas! Just the right prescription to cure my drowsiness! Adrenalin = the miracle drug. (Well, for SOME of us…)
Sailor Kelly was sawing logs again. It seemed like the bigger the seas, the bigger the logs she was sawing. I could hear an occasional small thump against the hull. 90% of those were probably just the floats from crab pots. But, there was this ONE unique THUMP/THUD! At the time it occurred, all I could think, was that it sounded like we hit a kayak. But, the sound was more like hitting a suitcase or something? Maybe some floating trash/box? Later, I assumed that it was probably, actually, the shell of a sea turtle bouncing off our hull. It didn’t drag down the whole length of the hull – as you would assume from hitting a kayak or other floating trash. Instead, after the initial thump at the bow, it seemed to get/swim away.
We fought heavy seas, hour after hour, all the way to our destination island of Anclote Key. The waves didn’t lay down until we were about one mile offshore. I (we) were truly exhausted – 26 hours of this stuff!
We just wanted to drop anchor right in the middle of the shipping channel. Kelly asked me to speed-up the motors, to get us there sooner. I just didn’t want to risk anything else. We had lost computers, radios, generator, etc. They say that once you start a diesel, you aren’t supposed to shut it down until you drop anchor at your destination. I figured that I didn’t want to tempt fate (or Murphy.) I didn’t TOUCH those throttles until we were ready to slow down and stop. We maneuvered about another hour to get into the proper anchoring area behind the key. After 27 hours or reliable, constant purring, , I FINALLY shutdown the motors and gave those kittens a well-deserved break.
At 6am, we dropped the hook into about nine feet of water – luckily, it hooked-up on the first try. The sun was about to rise, but we were going to bed! We didn’t have cell service all day, so I took just a few minutes to post an update to our blog, to let everyone know that we were safe. Then, it was lights out! (At least for five hours…)
Side note:
10 Stupidest Things I have Ever Done
1.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
2.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
3.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
4.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
5.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
6.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
7.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
8.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
9.) Cross the Gulf of Mexico in a slow boat
10.) Long-distance cruise a boat from St. Louis to Tampa
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Made it across safely (27 hours)
We made it across safely, and we are now anchored safely behind Anclote Key (just north of Clearwater Beach.)
It's been a long, HARD day! We are beat, and going to sleep now (6:10 am.) We are putting our phones on "silent" -- so don't bother calling...
We will call/post once we get settled-in tomorrow afternoon.
Nite. (or good morning...)
Nick.
It's been a long, HARD day! We are beat, and going to sleep now (6:10 am.) We are putting our phones on "silent" -- so don't bother calling...
We will call/post once we get settled-in tomorrow afternoon.
Nite. (or good morning...)
Nick.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Time Travel
Our boat is SO SLOW, that we have traveled through time! (From Central Time to Eastern Time that is...)
We got an early jump on the day (getting out about an hour earlier than planned.) But, we then lost an hour as we transitioned from Central to Eastern time. (Bummer to lose an hour -- KEWL that we are back in the RIGHT time zone!)
Oh, and Mother Nature apparently didn't appreciate us skirting her downpours yesterday, so she made sure we went through a couple of them today, instead.
I figure it's okay to accept our weather punishment now (in trade for a clear/easy crossing tomorrow.)
Tomorrow?
Yes! We made it roughly 80 miles today (77.2 miles) to our goal of Carrabelle, FL (Kelly refers to it as the armpit of Florida -- based on the geographic shape.)
We arrived right before sunset, and set our anchors quickly. Kelly had her fishing lines in the water behind my back (and caught three trashy catfish.) She counts trash -- so she is now ahead three-to-one on the fish count. (I spent more time getting HER trashy catfish off HER hooks, than I did fishing.) So, I promised to STOP fishing if she would -- truce!
We performed radio/phone checks with the local marina tonight (to make sure our communications are in working order.) I checked all of the motor fluids, and they check-out "all fine" as well.
I noticed another leak in the starboard exhaust (under out bed) today. (It might be the same leak, that has blown-loose again?) So, I will be pulling the bed up shortly to affect a repair. (It's not a show-stopper.)
We plan to depart at about 2 am Monday morning.
We had originally planned to make a bee-line from Carrabelle, straight to Ancote Key (just North of Clearwater Beach.) That route WOULD have been about a 21-hour journey. But, instead, we are going to take a route that's a bit closer to the shoreline (essentially maneuvering from one lighted buoy marker to the next.) This will provide us with interim reassurance that we are on our correct course. It adds about 14 nautical miles to our overall cruise (about two more hours.) But, the weather looks GREAT for the next 72 hours or so. Plus, the outer endge-run gives us more "out optins" should we need to make ar run for the safety of the coastline at any time.
I doubt that it will put us within cell phone range, however. If we do pickup a signal, however, we will call someone to let them know our position and that we are okay.
The winds are supposed to be light (nonexistent) for the next 72 hours, and the seas FLAT (less than one foot waves.) Things are usually more-calm during the evening hours as well. So, our 2am start should ensure the calmest possible conditions. We will then see the sunrise over the water. The sun should then begin to set as we enter our home waters. We don't plant o make it ALL THE WAY back to Clearwater Beach on Monday. We will stop SOMEWHERE to spend the night. (Maybe 80-100 miles North of Clearwater in the Cedar Key area?)
Bottom line: We should be back in the Clearwater area (and within cell phone range) by Tuesday morning.
The weather shouldn't be an issue. So, our only "risk" is mechanical issues.
If we have an issue with a motor or transmission, then we will run on just one motor (which will reduce our speed from 7.5 mph, down to only about 5 mph.)
So, don't hit any "panic buttons" with the Coast Guard or anything until close-of-business on Tuesday. If you haven't heard from us by COB Tuesday, then my friend Mark Rasch will contact the Coast Guard. (He is the designated person for contacting the Coast Guard -- the CG doesn't need 10 frantic calls from family & friends.)
Here is our planned course:
Leg One: Depart Carabelle, FL at 2 am Monday morning, heading almost due-east to the Fisherman's Rest Fishhaven Lighted Buoy "A" at: 29 degrees, 39.860 North by 83 degrees, 37.813 West. Note: This "turning point" is roughly only 6 nautical miles offshore. Hopefully, our cell phones will function, and we can call/post an update. But, it's a VERY remote area of Florida. So, DON'T PANIC if we don't successfully check-in or report-in at this waypoint!
From there, we will run parallel to the coatline (at times about 13 nautical miles offshore,) towards the "Cross Florida Barge Canal Lighted Buoy 2" at: 28 degrees, 55.425 North by 83 degrees, 11.792 West.
We will then pass just outside of the Reef Ball Reef Center Buoy: 28 degrees, 30.122N by 82 degrees, 58.833W.
Then, just outside of the Pasco County Aritfical Reef Buoy (13 nautical miles due west of Hudson, FL,) before turning toward the Anclote Anchorage North Entrance Light.
Again, we will PROBABLY stop and anchor somewhere along the way!!! Don't PANIC!!!
This boat has already made a run up the East Coast, then across the Great Lakes, and then down to St. Louis. With us, it has already travelled some 1,071 miles from Alton, IL to our current location at Carrabelle, FL. So, this 20+ hour leg should be just another uneventful leg of the journey -- bored by calm seas, and no winds. (Fingers crossed.) ;-)
I gotta sign-off and get some sleep now.
Nick.
We got an early jump on the day (getting out about an hour earlier than planned.) But, we then lost an hour as we transitioned from Central to Eastern time. (Bummer to lose an hour -- KEWL that we are back in the RIGHT time zone!)
Oh, and Mother Nature apparently didn't appreciate us skirting her downpours yesterday, so she made sure we went through a couple of them today, instead.
I figure it's okay to accept our weather punishment now (in trade for a clear/easy crossing tomorrow.)
Tomorrow?
Yes! We made it roughly 80 miles today (77.2 miles) to our goal of Carrabelle, FL (Kelly refers to it as the armpit of Florida -- based on the geographic shape.)
We arrived right before sunset, and set our anchors quickly. Kelly had her fishing lines in the water behind my back (and caught three trashy catfish.) She counts trash -- so she is now ahead three-to-one on the fish count. (I spent more time getting HER trashy catfish off HER hooks, than I did fishing.) So, I promised to STOP fishing if she would -- truce!
We performed radio/phone checks with the local marina tonight (to make sure our communications are in working order.) I checked all of the motor fluids, and they check-out "all fine" as well.
I noticed another leak in the starboard exhaust (under out bed) today. (It might be the same leak, that has blown-loose again?) So, I will be pulling the bed up shortly to affect a repair. (It's not a show-stopper.)
We plan to depart at about 2 am Monday morning.
We had originally planned to make a bee-line from Carrabelle, straight to Ancote Key (just North of Clearwater Beach.) That route WOULD have been about a 21-hour journey. But, instead, we are going to take a route that's a bit closer to the shoreline (essentially maneuvering from one lighted buoy marker to the next.) This will provide us with interim reassurance that we are on our correct course. It adds about 14 nautical miles to our overall cruise (about two more hours.) But, the weather looks GREAT for the next 72 hours or so. Plus, the outer endge-run gives us more "out optins" should we need to make ar run for the safety of the coastline at any time.
I doubt that it will put us within cell phone range, however. If we do pickup a signal, however, we will call someone to let them know our position and that we are okay.
The winds are supposed to be light (nonexistent) for the next 72 hours, and the seas FLAT (less than one foot waves.) Things are usually more-calm during the evening hours as well. So, our 2am start should ensure the calmest possible conditions. We will then see the sunrise over the water. The sun should then begin to set as we enter our home waters. We don't plant o make it ALL THE WAY back to Clearwater Beach on Monday. We will stop SOMEWHERE to spend the night. (Maybe 80-100 miles North of Clearwater in the Cedar Key area?)
Bottom line: We should be back in the Clearwater area (and within cell phone range) by Tuesday morning.
The weather shouldn't be an issue. So, our only "risk" is mechanical issues.
If we have an issue with a motor or transmission, then we will run on just one motor (which will reduce our speed from 7.5 mph, down to only about 5 mph.)
So, don't hit any "panic buttons" with the Coast Guard or anything until close-of-business on Tuesday. If you haven't heard from us by COB Tuesday, then my friend Mark Rasch will contact the Coast Guard. (He is the designated person for contacting the Coast Guard -- the CG doesn't need 10 frantic calls from family & friends.)
Here is our planned course:
Leg One: Depart Carabelle, FL at 2 am Monday morning, heading almost due-east to the Fisherman's Rest Fishhaven Lighted Buoy "A" at: 29 degrees, 39.860 North by 83 degrees, 37.813 West. Note: This "turning point" is roughly only 6 nautical miles offshore. Hopefully, our cell phones will function, and we can call/post an update. But, it's a VERY remote area of Florida. So, DON'T PANIC if we don't successfully check-in or report-in at this waypoint!
From there, we will run parallel to the coatline (at times about 13 nautical miles offshore,) towards the "Cross Florida Barge Canal Lighted Buoy 2" at: 28 degrees, 55.425 North by 83 degrees, 11.792 West.
We will then pass just outside of the Reef Ball Reef Center Buoy: 28 degrees, 30.122N by 82 degrees, 58.833W.
Then, just outside of the Pasco County Aritfical Reef Buoy (13 nautical miles due west of Hudson, FL,) before turning toward the Anclote Anchorage North Entrance Light.
Again, we will PROBABLY stop and anchor somewhere along the way!!! Don't PANIC!!!
This boat has already made a run up the East Coast, then across the Great Lakes, and then down to St. Louis. With us, it has already travelled some 1,071 miles from Alton, IL to our current location at Carrabelle, FL. So, this 20+ hour leg should be just another uneventful leg of the journey -- bored by calm seas, and no winds. (Fingers crossed.) ;-)
I gotta sign-off and get some sleep now.
Nick.
Video: Dolphins Rising our Bow Wave
I took this video of a dolphin riding our bow wave this morning.
No sooner did he break off, then three others assumed his position, and surfed for 15 minutes out there (and still counting...)
Anyway, here's the video of the solo-surfer. (We are in the backwater/bays here, so the water isn't crystal blue.)
What a wonderful start to a Sunday morning.
No sooner did he break off, then three others assumed his position, and surfed for 15 minutes out there (and still counting...)
Anyway, here's the video of the solo-surfer. (We are in the backwater/bays here, so the water isn't crystal blue.)
What a wonderful start to a Sunday morning.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Storm Chasers!
I was going to say that we out-ran a storm today. But, at 8 mph, we didn’t outrun ANYTHING!!! Heck, butterflies pass us up, dragonflies pass us up, and just about anything/everything can pass us up!
The more accurate thing to say, is that we LUCKILY missed the storms today!
When we woke, I checked the weather radar (as I always do.) I noticed two storm cells just south of Destin, out in the Gulf. What looked odd to me, was that one of the storm cells was moving west-to-east; while the other cell was moving east-to-west (one above the other.) This looked like a set-up to become a MUCH LARGER (rotational) storm – like a mini-tropical storm. The forecast showed that the storms would be growing in intensity, and moving to the east-northeast (towards Gulf Shores and Mobile.)
We were underway by 9am (after getting fuel for the backup generator, and a couple of bags of ice for the cooler.) It was again an hour later than I had wanted to depart (I see a pattern forming…)
As we cleared out of Destin Harbor, and returned to the inner-bay and intercoastal waterway, the VHF radios began to spring to life, as the skies darkened.
Charter fishing operators were calling out to their fleet in the Gulf, warning them of the pending storms. There was also comments about the charter sailboat (that was still venturing out into the threatening conditions.) “I guess the call of the mighty dollar is stronger than the storm,” one person commented – implying that no one should be putting tourists/passengers at-risk like this.
Shortly thereafter, the Coast Guard issued an alert for a boat that had apparently capsized (e.g. “boat has overturned, white hull, with one man aboard.”) You know its NOT good news when the Coast Guard is using the color of your boat’s BOTTOM to find you – as opposed to the color of your topsides…
We were VERY fortunate, however. We literally threaded the needle of the storm itself (to our South/right/starboard,) and a feeder band (to our left/north/port side.) At times, it was literally raining on BOTH sides of us – not even a mile away. Yet, there was a little, dry corridor, just for us. The rain was SO intense to our north/left, that it looked like a waterfall from the sky. It created a complete “white-out” of the shoreline. I could see the distinct line in the water – between the rain, and the dry. It grew closer, and closer for awhile. Fortunately, it seemed to be stationary at the waterline (to the south.) The storm grew deeper inland, and spread out a bit from east to west. But, it never grew any further southward – and just held a constant line of rain about a half-mile off our rail.
Just as the waters of the bay were getting a bit choppy from all of the winds, we then escaped to the safety of the next “ditch” of manmade waterway between Destin and the Panama City. We spent the next few hours “driving the ditch.”
This area of the ditch is essentially deserted. The banks are sand walls, about 10-15 feet high. So, you REALLY feel like you are in a – well, ditch that was carved through the Florida glades.
We saw a fan boat full of tourists cruising through the glades. Other than that, just a ski boat, a few fishermen, a couple of jet skis, and one other cruiser. After about five hours of this, we popped out on the other side, into the Panama City area. It was Saturday evening, and TONS of boats were returning to the city from the gulf. The sun was getting low over our stern, as we searched for a place to anchor. We wanted to make it to the 300 mile-marker today (72 miles for the day.) The sun had just set, when we attempted our first anchor-set.
We tried about three or four times to get our anger to grab – to no avail. We thought the third time was going to be a charm – because a pod of dolphins had arrived and were swimming all around our boat – the welcome wagon! Unfortunately, the bottom was too hard/packed, and we couldn’t get out anchor to take a bite into it.
So, we motored to the opposite bank of this small bay, to what appeared to be a sandy section. This time, on the first attempt, the anchor bit-in – success. No dolphins, but a tight hold is what we REALLY needed.
It was completely dark by the time we set the anchor. We had contemplated motoring about 20 more miles upstream to the next harbor. But, at our speed, and in the dark, that would have been AT LEAST another three-hours of cruising. It just wasn’t worth the risk.
So far, this has been our BEST anchorage yet! The water is perfectly calm, and peaceful. This is also the first time that we will only be setting ONE anchor. In the rivers, I set the “main” (big) anchor from the bow (upstream.) We then let out a TON of anchor line as we drift backwards (downstream.) Then, I toss the stern (smaller) anchor off the back of the boat. We then winch-in the front anchor, until the back anchor “sets.” Thus, we then have the boat centered between a bow anchor, and a stern anchor. This keeps the boat from “swimming” from side-to-side in the current.
The current ensures that there is always a solid pressure against the anchor, in the same, constant direction. So, it pretty much ensures that once your anchor is set – it will STAY set!
Here in the coastal waters, the “current” changes directions several times per day (as the tides come in and out.) So, boats need the ability to “swing” a full 360 degrees at anchor. Some people will put two anchors off the bow in these conditions (at a 30-degree angle from one another.) Thus, as the boat swings, there is always at least one anchor still biting into the ground. Whereas, when you only set one anchor, you run the risk of floating directly over it. Then, your boat pulls in a reverse-direction on your anchor – essentially freeing it.
While this CAN occur, the odds are pretty slim… Usually, the boat will “swing” at the length of the rope. Thus, it’s always taunt, and simply resets itself. Ditto when your boat floats over your anchor. Once you get to the other side, and the line grows taunt (even if it pulls your anchor out,) it will USUALLY reset itself. Granted, during some of these situations, the anchor actually becomes “fouled” in its own anchor line, which can prevent it from resetting itself.
Anyway, this gave me the chance to test a new feature of my GPS navigation software. It has the ability to set “boundaries” with alarms. So, I simply drew a circle around our current position, and then set it as a “boundary,” and then turned the alarm on. This way, if we drag our anchor in ANY direction outside of the boundary, our alarm will alert us!
Sometimes I curse technology, other times I love it!
There are millions of stars above us tonight. The weather is cool (thanks to the storms today.) There are no bugs, and we still feel like the only people in the bay. Our boat hasn’t been rocked ONCE by wakes from passing boats tonight (nearly four hours now…) This is a WORLD of difference, compared to anchoring just of the channel from passing barges.
If all goes well, we will cross into the Eastern Time Zone Sunday, and complete 80 miles -- and arrive at our “wait point” for a fair-weather crossing. We may not have to wait too long. The forecast for Monday is looking pretty sweet at the moment! I will want to double-check my forecast with that of the locals and harbormaster before we depart. But, it’s looking good for now.
The more accurate thing to say, is that we LUCKILY missed the storms today!
When we woke, I checked the weather radar (as I always do.) I noticed two storm cells just south of Destin, out in the Gulf. What looked odd to me, was that one of the storm cells was moving west-to-east; while the other cell was moving east-to-west (one above the other.) This looked like a set-up to become a MUCH LARGER (rotational) storm – like a mini-tropical storm. The forecast showed that the storms would be growing in intensity, and moving to the east-northeast (towards Gulf Shores and Mobile.)
We were underway by 9am (after getting fuel for the backup generator, and a couple of bags of ice for the cooler.) It was again an hour later than I had wanted to depart (I see a pattern forming…)
As we cleared out of Destin Harbor, and returned to the inner-bay and intercoastal waterway, the VHF radios began to spring to life, as the skies darkened.
Charter fishing operators were calling out to their fleet in the Gulf, warning them of the pending storms. There was also comments about the charter sailboat (that was still venturing out into the threatening conditions.) “I guess the call of the mighty dollar is stronger than the storm,” one person commented – implying that no one should be putting tourists/passengers at-risk like this.
Shortly thereafter, the Coast Guard issued an alert for a boat that had apparently capsized (e.g. “boat has overturned, white hull, with one man aboard.”) You know its NOT good news when the Coast Guard is using the color of your boat’s BOTTOM to find you – as opposed to the color of your topsides…
We were VERY fortunate, however. We literally threaded the needle of the storm itself (to our South/right/starboard,) and a feeder band (to our left/north/port side.) At times, it was literally raining on BOTH sides of us – not even a mile away. Yet, there was a little, dry corridor, just for us. The rain was SO intense to our north/left, that it looked like a waterfall from the sky. It created a complete “white-out” of the shoreline. I could see the distinct line in the water – between the rain, and the dry. It grew closer, and closer for awhile. Fortunately, it seemed to be stationary at the waterline (to the south.) The storm grew deeper inland, and spread out a bit from east to west. But, it never grew any further southward – and just held a constant line of rain about a half-mile off our rail.
Just as the waters of the bay were getting a bit choppy from all of the winds, we then escaped to the safety of the next “ditch” of manmade waterway between Destin and the Panama City. We spent the next few hours “driving the ditch.”
This area of the ditch is essentially deserted. The banks are sand walls, about 10-15 feet high. So, you REALLY feel like you are in a – well, ditch that was carved through the Florida glades.
We saw a fan boat full of tourists cruising through the glades. Other than that, just a ski boat, a few fishermen, a couple of jet skis, and one other cruiser. After about five hours of this, we popped out on the other side, into the Panama City area. It was Saturday evening, and TONS of boats were returning to the city from the gulf. The sun was getting low over our stern, as we searched for a place to anchor. We wanted to make it to the 300 mile-marker today (72 miles for the day.) The sun had just set, when we attempted our first anchor-set.We tried about three or four times to get our anger to grab – to no avail. We thought the third time was going to be a charm – because a pod of dolphins had arrived and were swimming all around our boat – the welcome wagon! Unfortunately, the bottom was too hard/packed, and we couldn’t get out anchor to take a bite into it.
So, we motored to the opposite bank of this small bay, to what appeared to be a sandy section. This time, on the first attempt, the anchor bit-in – success. No dolphins, but a tight hold is what we REALLY needed.
It was completely dark by the time we set the anchor. We had contemplated motoring about 20 more miles upstream to the next harbor. But, at our speed, and in the dark, that would have been AT LEAST another three-hours of cruising. It just wasn’t worth the risk.
So far, this has been our BEST anchorage yet! The water is perfectly calm, and peaceful. This is also the first time that we will only be setting ONE anchor. In the rivers, I set the “main” (big) anchor from the bow (upstream.) We then let out a TON of anchor line as we drift backwards (downstream.) Then, I toss the stern (smaller) anchor off the back of the boat. We then winch-in the front anchor, until the back anchor “sets.” Thus, we then have the boat centered between a bow anchor, and a stern anchor. This keeps the boat from “swimming” from side-to-side in the current.
The current ensures that there is always a solid pressure against the anchor, in the same, constant direction. So, it pretty much ensures that once your anchor is set – it will STAY set!
Here in the coastal waters, the “current” changes directions several times per day (as the tides come in and out.) So, boats need the ability to “swing” a full 360 degrees at anchor. Some people will put two anchors off the bow in these conditions (at a 30-degree angle from one another.) Thus, as the boat swings, there is always at least one anchor still biting into the ground. Whereas, when you only set one anchor, you run the risk of floating directly over it. Then, your boat pulls in a reverse-direction on your anchor – essentially freeing it.
While this CAN occur, the odds are pretty slim… Usually, the boat will “swing” at the length of the rope. Thus, it’s always taunt, and simply resets itself. Ditto when your boat floats over your anchor. Once you get to the other side, and the line grows taunt (even if it pulls your anchor out,) it will USUALLY reset itself. Granted, during some of these situations, the anchor actually becomes “fouled” in its own anchor line, which can prevent it from resetting itself.
Anyway, this gave me the chance to test a new feature of my GPS navigation software. It has the ability to set “boundaries” with alarms. So, I simply drew a circle around our current position, and then set it as a “boundary,” and then turned the alarm on. This way, if we drag our anchor in ANY direction outside of the boundary, our alarm will alert us!
Sometimes I curse technology, other times I love it!
There are millions of stars above us tonight. The weather is cool (thanks to the storms today.) There are no bugs, and we still feel like the only people in the bay. Our boat hasn’t been rocked ONCE by wakes from passing boats tonight (nearly four hours now…) This is a WORLD of difference, compared to anchoring just of the channel from passing barges.
If all goes well, we will cross into the Eastern Time Zone Sunday, and complete 80 miles -- and arrive at our “wait point” for a fair-weather crossing. We may not have to wait too long. The forecast for Monday is looking pretty sweet at the moment! I will want to double-check my forecast with that of the locals and harbormaster before we depart. But, it’s looking good for now.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Blue, BLUE Water!
We departed Gulf Shores Friday morning. I had intended to get out about an hour before the harbormaster’s office opened at 8am. But, we were moving a little slower than planned, and it was about 8:15 am as we drove past their offices (after our pirated extra night stay.) But, these folks were WAY ‘laxed! I don’t think they would have EVER known that we were staying there, if I hadn’t gone up to their offices to make myself known. And, their offices don’t overlook the marina itself. Instead, they overlook the canal and the fuel docks. So, I don’t think that they knew what our boat even looks like. Plus, Kelly was at the helm, and I was below decks as we pulled out (and they never saw/met her.) So, we motored right past their noses – and they didn’t realize that the pirates were escaping…
This leg of the cruise was MUCH nicer (scenery) than we have had thus far. The shorelines had some beautiful waterfront home, boats everywhere, marinas, towns, etc.
We traveled 73 miles on Friday (from Gulf Shores, AL to Destin, FL.) YES!!! We are FINALLY back in Florida!!! The water let us know, too! We had DOZENS of dolphins riding our bow wake throughout the day. For 5, 10, 15 minutes at a time, they would ride our bow. They would look up (eye-to-eye) with Kelly as they surfed and turned to see/spot her. She would cheer to them, and pound at the hull of the boat, and clap to them, too.
My opinion is that the dolphins get bored, and just like to play/explore. At times, we would be boating an open pass/bay, and dolphins would be a quarter-mile away. When we came into the area, they would completely change direction, and swim to our boat – a literally bee-line towards our bow – as if they have been waiting for us. And, not just one or two dolphins – PODS of them – a half-dozen at a time. First three, then four more, then two more, then three more.
As a matter of fact, we haven’t seen a single dolphin, that didn’t turn to come swim at out bow. They ALL come to surf our bow!
We had only one slight hiccup on Friday. Towards the end of our journey – only a few miles shy of our destination of Destin Harbor, our engine alarm went off again. I assumed that it was the starboard transmission (again.) But, it was cool to the touch. Instead, it was the motor getting too warm this time. It didn’t “overheat” or anything “bad” like that. Fortunately, the alarms go off way below the “boiling point.” I shut down the starboard motor for awhile (to let it cool down,) and we ran on only the port motor for about 15-25 minutes. As we approached Destin Harbor, the motor had cooled-down enough to restart it, so we could enter/park with both engines.
The water in Destin is fabulously blue – blue, turquoise, teal, ultramarine, and any/every other color of blue that you can imagine! Blue, blue, blue, BLUE!!!
Note: The photo is actually from the next morning, as we were running (more like crawling) away from a huge storm (notice the clouds...)
The bars were rocking (on Friday night.) TONS of boats were anchored along the beach, and at the docks. We called ahead to reserve a slip at one of the marinas. But, they were charging an arm & leg for “average” accommodations. So, we opted to motor past all of the major restaurants and marinas, in an effort to find something a little more low-key. About halfway into Destin Harbor, we stumbled onto a small bar/restaurant (next door to Gilligan’s.) Their docks weren’t fancy, but they were inexpensive – just what we were looking for! We tied up, and then went inside to the bar for a few drinks and appetizers. The place was definitely a “locals” hangout. Some locals had caught a bunch of fish, and the restaurant cooked them all up. Soon, these fishermen were about the most popular people at the bar! They were sharing the feast with the bartenders and wait staff (and a few locals.) Soon, they offered us a few bites, too!
They tell us that the fish were Amberjack (aka rock salmon – locally.) They didn’t taste ANYTHING like salmon. As a matter of fact, they didn’t even taste like fish! They tasted like fried chicken strips – REALLY! There was no fishy taste, and they were very meaty/hearty/solid – not flaky of soft.
It was the perfect end, to a wonderful day of cruising. We retired to the boat, well-fed, well-drank, and it was well worth it!
This leg of the cruise was MUCH nicer (scenery) than we have had thus far. The shorelines had some beautiful waterfront home, boats everywhere, marinas, towns, etc.
We traveled 73 miles on Friday (from Gulf Shores, AL to Destin, FL.) YES!!! We are FINALLY back in Florida!!! The water let us know, too! We had DOZENS of dolphins riding our bow wake throughout the day. For 5, 10, 15 minutes at a time, they would ride our bow. They would look up (eye-to-eye) with Kelly as they surfed and turned to see/spot her. She would cheer to them, and pound at the hull of the boat, and clap to them, too.My opinion is that the dolphins get bored, and just like to play/explore. At times, we would be boating an open pass/bay, and dolphins would be a quarter-mile away. When we came into the area, they would completely change direction, and swim to our boat – a literally bee-line towards our bow – as if they have been waiting for us. And, not just one or two dolphins – PODS of them – a half-dozen at a time. First three, then four more, then two more, then three more.
As a matter of fact, we haven’t seen a single dolphin, that didn’t turn to come swim at out bow. They ALL come to surf our bow!
We had only one slight hiccup on Friday. Towards the end of our journey – only a few miles shy of our destination of Destin Harbor, our engine alarm went off again. I assumed that it was the starboard transmission (again.) But, it was cool to the touch. Instead, it was the motor getting too warm this time. It didn’t “overheat” or anything “bad” like that. Fortunately, the alarms go off way below the “boiling point.” I shut down the starboard motor for awhile (to let it cool down,) and we ran on only the port motor for about 15-25 minutes. As we approached Destin Harbor, the motor had cooled-down enough to restart it, so we could enter/park with both engines.
The water in Destin is fabulously blue – blue, turquoise, teal, ultramarine, and any/every other color of blue that you can imagine! Blue, blue, blue, BLUE!!!Note: The photo is actually from the next morning, as we were running (more like crawling) away from a huge storm (notice the clouds...)
The bars were rocking (on Friday night.) TONS of boats were anchored along the beach, and at the docks. We called ahead to reserve a slip at one of the marinas. But, they were charging an arm & leg for “average” accommodations. So, we opted to motor past all of the major restaurants and marinas, in an effort to find something a little more low-key. About halfway into Destin Harbor, we stumbled onto a small bar/restaurant (next door to Gilligan’s.) Their docks weren’t fancy, but they were inexpensive – just what we were looking for! We tied up, and then went inside to the bar for a few drinks and appetizers. The place was definitely a “locals” hangout. Some locals had caught a bunch of fish, and the restaurant cooked them all up. Soon, these fishermen were about the most popular people at the bar! They were sharing the feast with the bartenders and wait staff (and a few locals.) Soon, they offered us a few bites, too!
They tell us that the fish were Amberjack (aka rock salmon – locally.) They didn’t taste ANYTHING like salmon. As a matter of fact, they didn’t even taste like fish! They tasted like fried chicken strips – REALLY! There was no fishy taste, and they were very meaty/hearty/solid – not flaky of soft.
It was the perfect end, to a wonderful day of cruising. We retired to the boat, well-fed, well-drank, and it was well worth it!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Two Lost Souls Living in a Fishbowl
When we were living aboard in Alton, IL, there was an antique boat show there one weekend. The concept sounded pretty kewl. People would be bringing all kinds of old boats (mostly old, restored, wooden classics) to the marina for the public to view. Most of them were trailered to the marina. Some remained on their trailers (in the parking lot.) Others, however, were launched into the water, and were then displayed in-water at dockside. Some LARGER boats motored to Alton for the weekend, and filled the transient dock. Many arrived days in advance of the weekend’s activities.
What we didn’t expect, was to become a part of the show ourselves!
I guess (technically speaking,) that our boat IS INDEED a classic. We will even be registering it as a classic vessel when we finally get back to Florida. (Any vessel 30+ years in age, with its original propulsion system, is considered/eligible for “classic vessel registration” in Florida.
So, you can imagine our surprise, when we woke up the morning of the classic boat show, and climbed from our stateroom, into the main salon – to find STRANGERS gawking and peering into the windows of our boat!!!
All weekend thereafter, people would walk up to our boat, and check it (and us) out. They ASSUMED that we were only there for the show (they didn’t realize that this is our “home” on the water.)
How would YOU feel if you woke up every morning, and people were staring into YOUR bedroom or living room window?!!!
Well, here at the marina in Alabama (and pretty much ANY marina along the way,) we continue to have our share of gawkers. I don’t think that they really intend to invade our privacy. They are simply walking the docks, and admiring the boats. Ours just seems to have the biggest, clearest windows of them all, and we are in the boat (thus our action/activity draws their attention/looks/stares.)
With all the glass around us, we truly feel like we are in a fishbowl or aquarium – on display for the world/passers-by.
Many boats have tinted windows these days. I guess that would afford us some extra privacy, but I don’t think that it’s in-sync with the age/style of this boat. So, I guess simple curtains will be our next effort…
We arrived in Gulf Shores Monday evening. We then enjoyed three FULL “down days” from cruising. We performed some scheduled maintenance on the boat; went shopping to reprovision; and spent a full day at the beach with the Rasch Family and Claudia.
By the time we stopped in Gulf Shores, we had been on the water (and locked-up in the boat) for a long, LONG time. The boat is more comfortable than most, and has a lot of room and convenience (for a boat.) But, after weeks aboard it – you begin to feel pretty cooped up!
I think Kelly “hit the wall” before I did. It’s not that she hit the wall, and I didn’t. It’s simply that she hit the wall a couple of hours before I did. After WEEKS aboard the boat, and dealing with breakdowns, and being held-up in poor marinas and ditch-based anchorages – we NEEDED SOME SPACE!!! We needed to get OFF the boat, and even AWAY from each other for a bit.
It took us two full days to decompress from the boating stresses. By the third day, we were FINALLY able to let our hair down, RELAX, and enjoy ourselves. (It was our best day of the trip thus far – a day at the beach.) A big THANK YOU goes out to the Raschs and Claudia for inviting us to come crash their vacation for a few days. Not just crash their vacation, but pick us up, lend us their car, ferry us to and fro, help in troubleshooting the generator, etc. THANKS!!!!!
I think socializing with their two girls (Marissa & Sydney) was a HUGE help, too! They helped us to get our minds OFF the boat, and into “life.” We played cards, did magic tricks, played at the pool, combed the beach, had a BBQ, searched for creatures on the beach at night, -- all OFF of the boat!
Oh, and I was a bit of a pirate…
We arrived at the marina after the harbormaster went home for the night. So, when I went into the office the next morning and asked for a slip for two nights, he dated my receipt for the NEXT two nights (not realizing that I had already spent one night there.) And… I didn’t correct him… Thus, our first night was (um…) free? ;-)
Likewise, after our paid two nights, I told them that we would be departing Thursday night. But, instead, we stayed the night, and left in the morning before their offices opened. Thus, our last night was (um…) free?
Four nights for the price of two – that’s our high seas piracy story!
Argh!
What we didn’t expect, was to become a part of the show ourselves!
I guess (technically speaking,) that our boat IS INDEED a classic. We will even be registering it as a classic vessel when we finally get back to Florida. (Any vessel 30+ years in age, with its original propulsion system, is considered/eligible for “classic vessel registration” in Florida.
So, you can imagine our surprise, when we woke up the morning of the classic boat show, and climbed from our stateroom, into the main salon – to find STRANGERS gawking and peering into the windows of our boat!!!
All weekend thereafter, people would walk up to our boat, and check it (and us) out. They ASSUMED that we were only there for the show (they didn’t realize that this is our “home” on the water.)
How would YOU feel if you woke up every morning, and people were staring into YOUR bedroom or living room window?!!!
Well, here at the marina in Alabama (and pretty much ANY marina along the way,) we continue to have our share of gawkers. I don’t think that they really intend to invade our privacy. They are simply walking the docks, and admiring the boats. Ours just seems to have the biggest, clearest windows of them all, and we are in the boat (thus our action/activity draws their attention/looks/stares.)
With all the glass around us, we truly feel like we are in a fishbowl or aquarium – on display for the world/passers-by.
Many boats have tinted windows these days. I guess that would afford us some extra privacy, but I don’t think that it’s in-sync with the age/style of this boat. So, I guess simple curtains will be our next effort…
We arrived in Gulf Shores Monday evening. We then enjoyed three FULL “down days” from cruising. We performed some scheduled maintenance on the boat; went shopping to reprovision; and spent a full day at the beach with the Rasch Family and Claudia.
By the time we stopped in Gulf Shores, we had been on the water (and locked-up in the boat) for a long, LONG time. The boat is more comfortable than most, and has a lot of room and convenience (for a boat.) But, after weeks aboard it – you begin to feel pretty cooped up!
I think Kelly “hit the wall” before I did. It’s not that she hit the wall, and I didn’t. It’s simply that she hit the wall a couple of hours before I did. After WEEKS aboard the boat, and dealing with breakdowns, and being held-up in poor marinas and ditch-based anchorages – we NEEDED SOME SPACE!!! We needed to get OFF the boat, and even AWAY from each other for a bit.
It took us two full days to decompress from the boating stresses. By the third day, we were FINALLY able to let our hair down, RELAX, and enjoy ourselves. (It was our best day of the trip thus far – a day at the beach.) A big THANK YOU goes out to the Raschs and Claudia for inviting us to come crash their vacation for a few days. Not just crash their vacation, but pick us up, lend us their car, ferry us to and fro, help in troubleshooting the generator, etc. THANKS!!!!!
I think socializing with their two girls (Marissa & Sydney) was a HUGE help, too! They helped us to get our minds OFF the boat, and into “life.” We played cards, did magic tricks, played at the pool, combed the beach, had a BBQ, searched for creatures on the beach at night, -- all OFF of the boat!Oh, and I was a bit of a pirate…
We arrived at the marina after the harbormaster went home for the night. So, when I went into the office the next morning and asked for a slip for two nights, he dated my receipt for the NEXT two nights (not realizing that I had already spent one night there.) And… I didn’t correct him… Thus, our first night was (um…) free? ;-)
Likewise, after our paid two nights, I told them that we would be departing Thursday night. But, instead, we stayed the night, and left in the morning before their offices opened. Thus, our last night was (um…) free?
Four nights for the price of two – that’s our high seas piracy story!
Argh!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Big Water & Dolphins!
We are out of the freshwater, and into saltwater – FINALLY!
We anchored-out about 20 miles north of Mobile Monday night. Monday was scheduled to be a fairly short cruising day (as far as distance goes.) And, we had no more locks to deal with. Nevertheless, we were anxious to get into the big water, so we got a decently-early jump on the day.
A few miles underway, we came across our first UNEXPECTED delay… It was a swing bridge for a set of train tracks. (For those of you who aren’t familiar with these swing bridges, they are a bit different than your typical draw or lift bridge. Instead of lifting up, these have a center-pivoted section of bridge that the whole unit spins (swings) upon. They are apparently pretty efficient, because the center-pivot system means that both ends of the bridge are equally-weighted. Thus, they just need enough power to turn it – as opposed to needing enough power to LIFT a section of bridge – or install counter-balancing weights, etc.
Anyway, our experience has been one of two things with bridges. They are either time-opened (and usually include hours of openings or closings – depending on their default position.) Or, you hail them via your radio (on Channel 16 or whatever is posted) and they will open the bridge on-demand.
Well, at this lil’ ol country bridge, there were NO SIGNS of ANY type posted. I made several attempts to hail the operator (Channels 16, 14, 13, 12, etc.) -- no such luck. We then pulled RIGHT UP TO THE opening of the bridge – as if to signal LET US THROUGH!!!! (To anyone who may have been watching from the booth.)
Finally, I just let go a BLAST from the air horn! (That woke him up!) ;-) Suddenly, there was a shadow of movement in the booth, and we could hear the locking pins inside the bridge disengaging, and then the squeaking sound of metal-on-mental as the bridge began to swing itself open.
As we cleared the bridge, I gave back two (friendlier) “thank you beeps” of the horn.
Since we had gotten an early start on the day, this guy was probably still working “third shift.” He probably fell asleep during the final hours of his shift – until WE WOKE HIM UP!!!!
The day prior, we seagulls began to follow us. Today, we began to spot pelicans around us. Yes, we are getting closer to big water now!
A few bends in the river later, and we begin to see the taller buildings of Mobile – a CITY! As we approach, Kelly says that she’s literally getting butterflies in her stomach – civilization ahead!!!
We had made tentative plans between us that morning to stop somewhere in Mobile to get ice and such. But, the waterfront appeared to be very commercial/industrial in nature. The Tenn-Tom Waterway was completed in 1985, and since then, Mobile has really sprung to life. It has both ocean access, as well as inland freshwater access. Thus, large ships from sea come to not only unload land-based stuff (onto trains and trucks,) but also to unload their cargo into waiting barges to be floated upstream in mass quantity. Ditto for the reverse as well: Barges can float down the Tenn-Tom, and then have their cargo loaded directly into waiting super-tankers and the like.
Mobile also has a pretty large ship refurbishing business (including Navy vessels, tugs, etc.) So, there was a LOT of noise and commotion – jack hammers, sandblasters, etc.
Photo: This is the new USS Independence (LCS-2) that is being built for the US Navy in Mobile, AL. It's a trimaran-design hull, that reportedly can travel at speeds up to 46 mph (some say with bursts up to 60 mph!!!) It's supposed to be delivered to the Navy on/about September of this year. Our the back of this sucker are four HUGE jet-drive motors (like a jet ski.) This thing is powered by two gas-turbine motors, and two diesel motors. I have heard of similar propulsion systems, that function on the diesel motors at low speeds, and then convert over to the turbine engines for high speed operation. (Note: In response to problems with the propulsion plant, General Dynamics has resequneced the builder's sea trials to test other systems until this is fixed.) You can read more about this all-aluminum (no smoking aboard) ship at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Independence_(LCS-2)
What we didn’t see were any sailboat masts (signifying a pleasure boat harbor/marina.) We didn’t see any transient slips, piers, seawalls, or other “welcome to Mobile” invitations to come ashore. So, we decided to just motor-on, and get down to the Gulf Shores area as quickly as possible (now only 34 miles ahead of us.)
Mobile Bay is as expansive as Tampa Bay – it’s HUGE! Soon after entering the Bay, a pod of dolphins appeared, and headed for our bow to play and ride our bow-wave.
All of the other boats that we have owned, we planning “go-fast” boats – so the dolphins surfed/jumped in our wake. This boat, however, doesn’t have much of a wake (because it has a semi-displacement hull design.) Instead of getting on top of the water, this hull is designed to swim THROUGH the water – never getting up onto plane. So, this means that we “push” quite a bit of water up front (like a waterborne plow.) So, the dolphins surf the FRONT of this style of boat – and surf they did.
The dolphins would ride our bow for a minute or two, then disappear, and later we would see them several hundred yards behind us. One pod after another, they would come, play, and then leave – as we crossed the bay.
The weather forecast had predicted calm winds and seas, and no tropical storm activity expected for the next 48 hours. There was (as always) a risk of afternoon pop-up coastal thunderstorms – but, that’s pretty typical of coastal towns in the humid southeast.
It was noon by the time we entered the Bay. As forecasted, the seas were pretty calm, and winds were light (2-7 mph) both at our nose – which is the easiest way to take the wind/waves in our boat. (When the winds are directly astern, the breeze tends to blow the smell of our exhaust past us, and it can make you feel kinda ill after awhile of that…) Following seas seem to push this ol’ bathtub around somewhat helplessly, too (as it did in the Mississippi River.) The rudders work best when water flows front-to-back. When the flowing seas PUSH against us, we seem to meander somewhat aimlessly…
Tips from fellow boaters told us to take the Mobile shipping channel out to “red marker number 50.” Then, head due-west for about a ½-mile or mile between the dredge “spoils,” and then set a course/heading to pick-up a marker buoy about a mile out from the Gulf Shores entry channel. I had pre-plotted the course into our GPS and mapping system days ahead of time, so we simply steered our course accordingly.
This is a fairly nice and easy way to induct inland boaters for big water. We depart from an area surrounded by land and buildings (comfort to the landlubber’s sole.) Then, ease our way down an OVER-MARKED shipping channel (you can almost walk, swim, or cast your fishing line from one marker buoy to the next.) But, as you head out towards deeper water, the shore begins to widen on each side – and there is NO SHORELINE directly in front of you. (But, you still feel the comfort/safety of a distant shoreline to your right/left, and behind you as well.) Oh, while the shipping channel is dredged to 40-something feet deep in most spots, it’s only a couple of hundred feet wide. Outside the shipping channel, the waters are less than 10 feet deep (often only 1-3 feet deep.) So, if something WERE to go bump, we could always just turn right or left and “beach” ourselves until help arrives.
By the way, Kelly has been driving ALL DAY today! She is also the one who is driving us to sea.
When we finally reach Red Marker number 50, she makes the planned left turn, and follows our chart/plot/course through the submerged spoil islands. (They create underwater islands that are only 1-3 feet deep. But, there is a small channel between them now and again – dot marked by any buoys, but clearly documented on the charts, and also well-known to the locals.)
After clearing the spoils, we then make a slight right turn, and now steer 100% according to the map/GPS. We can’t see anything on our horizon anymore. And, there are no channel markers outside the main shipping channel. We are now boating through the “open” Bay on our own.
The first 30-60 minutes of it, are ideal. Sunny skies, calm seas – life is GOOD! Kelly is still driving, and I sit in one of our deck chairs with a cold one, kick my feet up onto the railing, and sit back in the sunshine to watch the pelicans perform for me – aerobatic dives into the water to catch their meals – it seems like HUNDREDS of pelicans are performing – just for me!
I look back in our wake, so see Mobile fading behind us – getting smaller and smaller on the landscape behind us… But, what’s getting bigger and bigger, is a dark grey (almost black) storm cloud that’s enveloping the cityscape.) I say something about it in passing to Kelly, like, “Wow, it looks like a big storm just swallowed Mobile.” I scan our horizon to see if there are any clouds ahead of us, or to our sides – nothing but blue skies – GOOD!
Only a few minutes later, however, I notice that the sunshine I was enjoying minutes ago in my easy chair, has now clouded-over a bit (white clouds at this point – not the mean grey stuff – YET.)
From the looks of it, this storm is building, spreading outwards, and beginning to chase us out to sea. Winds are beginning to shift a bit as well, and the seas are beginning to build. It’s not that the seas are becoming “big” – it’s that they are now shifting to our right/starboard – and beginning to hit us a bit more broadsided – which rocks our boat a bit more dramatically left-to-right – in a rolling motion. (Those of you who get seasick easily, this is your time to STOP reading…)
“Let’s get ready fro the rain,” Kelly smartly suggests. Whether it ever really catches up with us or not – it’s always BEST to be prepared ahead of time. Because by the time it DOES arrive, your hands are FULL with other issues. Kelly grabs all of the portable electronics and snacks and such from the fly bridge, and heads below to stow them safely inside/below in the cabin. I meanwhile take the helm for a bit, and prepare our permanent electronics for a bath (putting covers and bungee cords around them, to keep them from getting blown off during a strong blow.)
Kelly returns to the flybridge, and says she’s feeling a little green. I offer her the helm/wheel (steering the boat actually helps prevent seasickness.) I have experienced the EXACT same thing when flying in a small plane. When you are a passenger, you are kinda just “along for the ride” – and it can be a bit like being in a rollercoaster. But, when YOU are holding the wheel/rudder/stick, it makes you feel a bit more in control of your destiny – your hands seem to tell your brain exactly what’s going on (proactively) instead of having a reactive feeling.
I begin to secure and clean-up a few things on the deck, when I notice that our dingy cover is getting damp around the edges… Weird… We don’t have any rain yet… Why is the dingy cover wet? I dismiss it as some sort of anomaly – maybe some morning dew that was on the deck has washed down onto the dingy’s cover in these now building and tossing waves?
I go below, and boot-up Kelly’s laptop, and tune into www.weather.com. I search for Gulf Shores, AL, and then click on the “weather in motion” link to get a real-time radar picture of our situation. Sure enough, there is a BIG storm enveloping Mobile, and trying to catch us, too!
I go back topside to join Kelly, and tune-in to the weather radio station on our marine VHF handheld. It’s giving us the most recent weather information (computer-generated, and updated once an hour.) Blah, blah, blah about calm seas, and 2-7 knot winds… blah, blah, blah…. (That computer that generates that weather forecast is obviously located inside of a dark/cold datacenter, and doesn’t have a window to see what WE are seeing!)
Then, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, long BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. (you know, that familiar sound that we typically hear on TV at home every now and then – when they “test” the “emergency broadcast system.”) Yup, THAT’S the sound that now blares from our VHF!
“The national weather service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for the Mobile Bay area. This thunderstorm will generate heavy rain, and wind gusts up to 50 miles per hour, and increased wave heights. Lightening can be intense, and boaters are encouraged to go below if they are caught in this storm.”
Great…
But, our lil tug still has a jump on the storm. They say that the storm is moving at 20 miles per hour from west to east. But, we are moving at 7.5 mph to the southeast (mostly south.) I go ahead and push the throttles up a bit – to get us up to about 9 mph.
The seas ARE building quite a bit, but we are still under white clouds – with blue skies ahead of us.
I think we are safe from the rain and lightening, but these seas are REALLY giving us a tossing. I ask Kelly how she’s feeling – and she says that she could vomit at any time now. I offer to bring her the bucket, and she declines. (I take that as a GOOD sign!)
I turn to check out the clouds to our stern, and notice that the ENTIRE dingy cover is now wet! What’s up with THAT?!!!!!
Then, I realize – it’s getting wet from BELOW! The dingy must be FULL of water! The rocking of the boat, has caused the water inside of it, to splash-up to the underside of the cover – which I can then see from above.
Go figure, as we are navigating through our worst seas & weather, our little “life raft” of sorts – is pre-sunk aboard. (The boating folks call this a “freshwater drowning” -- when a boat sinks due to rainwater at the docks and such.) There is so much water in the dingy, that I can’t lift/tilt it to pour it out. And, there’s no drain plug in this little bathtub of a dingy. So, I either have to bail the water out, or siphon it out.
I first try to bail it out. But, since it’s a multi-purpose sailing dingy and row-boat, etc. – there are all kinds of “features” that are in my way (rudder, tiller, oars, oral locks, sail bag, ropes/lines, etc.) Each scoop of the bucket is only removing about a half-gallon of water, and it’s pretty difficult with the rocking/rolling of the boat/seas.
So, I ditch the bucket, and fetch the garden hose instead. I put one end of it into the boat. Instead of sucking at the other end (which would be a REAL pain with this long of a hose,) I attach the opposite end to our water spigot. I briefly turn the spigot on to fill the hose. I then turn it off, and disconnect it – and let gravity do its thing, and auto-start the siphoning process (no sucking of the hose required.)
It works like a charm, and I go up to the dingy to double-check things. By the time I get there, the wave action had caused the end of the hose to pop out/above the water = siphoning has stopped!
I shove it back down into the water, and try the whole process one more time. Again, the process starts perfectly, and again, by the time I get up to the dingy, the hose has been knocked up/out of the waterline – and stopped functioning.
At this point, I’m wishing that I had some sort of brick to place atop the end of the hose, to hold it to the bottom of the dingy. I don’t have a brick…
I scan the decks, and the only thing that I see that LOOKS like a brick, is our stern anchor! But, that would be like using a sledge hammer when you only need a little tap.
Instead, I semi-tie & loop the hose around some of the gear inside of the boat, to make it less susceptible to the rocking of the waves, and prevent it from whipping itself out of position. I watch it for about two minutes, to ensure that it’s NOT going to work itself free. Satisfied with this approach, I go below to the spigot, and re-prime the line.
The third time is indeed a charm. Success!
Over the next hour, the waves began to dissipate a bit (as we now grew closer to the protection of the barrier islands of Gulf Shores.) And, our dingy self-siphoned itself almost completely dry (I couldn’t have planned it any better it I had the time to do so.)
As we entered the protection of the intracoastal waterway (ICW,) we began to clean-up the decks and such from our crossing-of-the-bay. We stowed hoses, and power cords from the night before, and got things looking ship-shape for our arrival into “fancy ports.”
We took showers, and changed into some decent/presentable clothes.
As we arrived in the marina, onlookers gawked and pointed at our big ol’ boat as we idled into the marina. She (the Venture Out) is designed as a coastal cruiser, and seems to be drawing quite a crowd. (This would have been an excellent time to hand a huge “FOR SALE” sign off her railings!) ;-)
But, these were all just tourist/gawkers/dreamers anyway – not REAL boaters. They were admiring us – the adventurers – the travelers, returning from sea.
The day was actually a pretty good hair-raiser. It started off slow and easy, but turned into quite a handful by mid-day. By the time we got to the dock, we were pretty-well spent of our energy and enthusiasm.
The harbormaster was nowhere to be found (these guys apparently have bankers hours.) We went ahead and helped ourselves to a slip of our choice. Just after we got all tied off, turned off the motors, hooked up the shore power lines, and shut down the motors – and ready to call this day DONE – I heard a “bloop” splashing noise, immediately followed by a familiar obscenity from Kelly.
“What was that?” I asked. (not REALLY wanting to hear the answer, because by the sound of the bloop/splash, I knew that it wasn’t something cheap/easy like a pen or a pair of my sunglasses or a leftover Coke can. Nope, that was the sound of something of weight and value.
“It was the radio,” she said.
Being the ever-optimist, I replied, “You mean the portable CD player?” (Which we had just purchased at Wal-Mart before our adventure for $40 bucks or so – so we could have some tunes aboard.)
“No! The handheld VHF!” she replied – with words that I did NOT want to hear. (You know, the ONLY radio that has REALLY been worth a damned this whole trip – the one that WORKS – the one that’s small and convenient to be shoved in my pocket as I run up/down on the boat – the one that is water-resistant (to rain) – but, NOT waterPROOF (to drowning.) Yup – the model that does NOT float!
As I looked up at her, I saw the disappointment/frustration, but ALSO another familiar look – the “you WILL be diving to get that radio” kinda look. (The SAME look that she gave me when the anchor went over unattached, and many other times in our past – when we dropped things into the drink.)
The sun was setting, the water isn’t clear here, and the radio fell between the dock and the boat. So, to dive for it, I was going to have to first move the boat to a different slip (which we did.) At first, we were going to tie-up to the dock closest to the bathrooms and such. But, they were locked (according to Kelly.) So, after maneuvering to tie-up, we called “no joy” on slip #2, and proceeded to a different slip (#3 attempt.) We tied-up the boat, and prepared to then attach our shore power. But, it turns out that THIS particular slip, ONLY had 50-amp service (and we need 30-amp service.) So, I walked the docks a bit, checking each power-post, to finally find one with 30-amp service. So, we moved the boat (AGAIN) to slip #4 for the day.
We tied-up, but I didn’t hook-up power (yet.) The sun was setting, and if I was going to find that radio, I needed to make haste and get wet ASAP. I grabbed the fins, mask and snorkel, and a flat cushion, and made my way to the scene of the bloop.
I reluctantly geared-up, and stepped off into the water. (Note: Fish are jumping ALL AROUND the surface here – usually a sign that a predator fish is in the hood. I have also already seen jellyfish in this cove, and marinas are also known for having “naughty guests” who still flush their heads (toilets) into the marina.) So, yes, I’m jumping into a cesspool filled with unseen predators and things that bite and sting. Are we having fun yet? Welcome to LuLus! (LuLu is apparently the sister to Jimmy Buffett.)
The depth gauge on our boat was reading 4 feet here. But, that’s from the bottom of our boat, which is already 4 feet deep. So, it’s REALLY about 8 feet deep here. The water is so dark, that a flashlight or such is useless. I just take a deep breath, and dive down (hands-first) until they touch bottom. Will it be sand? Rock? Mud? Silt? Having fun yet? I was hoping for sand. But, got silt atop mud instead. (expect the best, receive the worst.) ;-)
I then swim across the bottom like some sort of overgrown flounder. I need to the entire length of my arms to search through the muck – not just my hands. (I need to make as much “surface contact” as possible. This means, that I literally swim with my chest & belly sliding across the silt bottom, as I then wave/fan my arms out ahead of me – like underwater jumping jacks. The entire length of my arms in contact with the bottom.
First attempt = nothing. Second attempt = nothing. Third attempt = nothing. I know it’s down there – somewhere, and Kelly’s not going to be happy until I bring it up. I know that it’s done-for – not designed for this kinda dunk/bath. But, this isn’t about the radio at this point. This is about marriage/emotions. Find the radio = happy (but disappointed) wife. Don’t find the radio = he didn’t TRY hard enough – he COULD have found it if he TRIED harder!!!
Maybe – just MAYBE the radio DOES float??? Maybe it fell into the drink, but then floated up/under the dock (and is stuck there?) So, while I’m still in the water, I also put my hands under the dock, and FEEL every inch of it, too. All of the barnacles, slimy mossy stuff, bilge stuff, ew, ew, ew!!! Nope, no radio. So, I return to diving. This time, I will swim further beneath the docks. It’s COMPLETELY dark under the docks. And, when you swim under them, you have to make sure that you have an exit plan. You don’t want to attempt to surface from beneath them, and then bang your head on the bottom of them. If I has wearing SCUBA gear, this would be no issue. I could take my time, and search under the docks slowly, and then come up slowly/carefully. But, since I am skin-diving on my own breath, I have to make sure that I not only have enough spare-air in reserve to come UP, but also enough to FIRST swim out/away from the docks, THEN up.
Still = nothing.
I noticed as we arrived, that it was a bit difficult to get the boat to snug-up to the dock. I’m assuming that the tide was coming in, thus, there was a slight current pushing me away/off the dock. If that’s the case, then maybe the radio is actually a bit further away from the dock – then beneath it. So, I next do a pass a yard or so away from the dock. Bingo! Success! One well-wet radio recovered!
Note: The only other thing that I found was a small piece of log. I would have thought that there would have been more stuff down there – tools, wallets, sunglasses, beer bottles, etc. Go figure.
As assumed, our offering of a VHF radio to Nemo the sea gods had been accepted and received by him. Because when we got it back to the boat, and freshwater rinsed it, then dismantled it, and put it under the fan to dry it out overnight – it didn’t power-up upon reassembly. Our little handheld VHF was dead as a doornail, its soul is with Nemo now.
Our day was finally DONE! We didn’t have the energy, enthusiasm, or desire to even go to LuLus for dinner & drinks. Instead, we simply collapsed on the sofa, with clicker in-hand, and licked our wounds as we watched TV.
Wounds: I pretty much HATE boat cleats, engine vents, turnbuckles, and any/all other rigging that protrudes from the decks of boats. I have two unique gifts in life: 1 = I can get dirty – even when no dirt is around. Even if I try NOT to get dirty, I somehow manage to get dirty! It’s a gift. 2 = My toes have the ability to find and stub/cut themselves on ANYTHING that protrudes from the decks. (Kelly has developed this gift as well.) And, we have now extended this feature to our hands, too! So, we are both sporting Band-Aids on our hands and feet, and both have split-open big toenails due to boat-related stunts + deck gear.
But, we are SAFE! We are in saltwater! We have seen TONS of dolphins already! Kelly has made plans to meet-up with Laura and the girls, and spend a day doing laundry at their condo, and sitting at the beach. She’s making plans to make dinner for them, and maybe even catch a soaking in their bathtub as well.
I’m going to stay at the boat Tuesday, to catch-up on some maintenance chores, and work-related stuff. Maybe even hunt down that harbormaster and try to pay out slip rental fees? (Maybe not?) ;-) I haven’t done ANYTHING pirate-like this whole trip (except polish-off a huge bottle of Captain Morgan rum.)
Our river-cruising days are behind us, we are coastal-cruisers now. I wish I could say that our days in the “ditch” are behind us. Unfortunately, much of the ICW is also man-made “ditch” as well. But, it should be a bit prettier ditch, dotted with marinas, waterfront homes, more pleasure boats, manatees, dolphins, etc. We are only 10-20 miles from the Florida state line. Once we cross that line, it will be “rods in the water” for the rest of our trip. (Alabama is still kinda weird about fishing licenses for nonresidents and such – so we won’t be fishing while we are here.)
Note: We may be holed-up in this marina for a few days as we visit with Mark & Laura, and do our chores, make a Wal-Mart reprovisioning run, and such. (Nothing worth blogging about.) Once we get moving again (probably two or three days,) we will resume blogging.
Venture Out (“over”) for now…
Nick & Kell.
We anchored-out about 20 miles north of Mobile Monday night. Monday was scheduled to be a fairly short cruising day (as far as distance goes.) And, we had no more locks to deal with. Nevertheless, we were anxious to get into the big water, so we got a decently-early jump on the day.
A few miles underway, we came across our first UNEXPECTED delay… It was a swing bridge for a set of train tracks. (For those of you who aren’t familiar with these swing bridges, they are a bit different than your typical draw or lift bridge. Instead of lifting up, these have a center-pivoted section of bridge that the whole unit spins (swings) upon. They are apparently pretty efficient, because the center-pivot system means that both ends of the bridge are equally-weighted. Thus, they just need enough power to turn it – as opposed to needing enough power to LIFT a section of bridge – or install counter-balancing weights, etc.
Anyway, our experience has been one of two things with bridges. They are either time-opened (and usually include hours of openings or closings – depending on their default position.) Or, you hail them via your radio (on Channel 16 or whatever is posted) and they will open the bridge on-demand.
Well, at this lil’ ol country bridge, there were NO SIGNS of ANY type posted. I made several attempts to hail the operator (Channels 16, 14, 13, 12, etc.) -- no such luck. We then pulled RIGHT UP TO THE opening of the bridge – as if to signal LET US THROUGH!!!! (To anyone who may have been watching from the booth.)
Finally, I just let go a BLAST from the air horn! (That woke him up!) ;-) Suddenly, there was a shadow of movement in the booth, and we could hear the locking pins inside the bridge disengaging, and then the squeaking sound of metal-on-mental as the bridge began to swing itself open.
As we cleared the bridge, I gave back two (friendlier) “thank you beeps” of the horn.
Since we had gotten an early start on the day, this guy was probably still working “third shift.” He probably fell asleep during the final hours of his shift – until WE WOKE HIM UP!!!!
The day prior, we seagulls began to follow us. Today, we began to spot pelicans around us. Yes, we are getting closer to big water now!
A few bends in the river later, and we begin to see the taller buildings of Mobile – a CITY! As we approach, Kelly says that she’s literally getting butterflies in her stomach – civilization ahead!!!
We had made tentative plans between us that morning to stop somewhere in Mobile to get ice and such. But, the waterfront appeared to be very commercial/industrial in nature. The Tenn-Tom Waterway was completed in 1985, and since then, Mobile has really sprung to life. It has both ocean access, as well as inland freshwater access. Thus, large ships from sea come to not only unload land-based stuff (onto trains and trucks,) but also to unload their cargo into waiting barges to be floated upstream in mass quantity. Ditto for the reverse as well: Barges can float down the Tenn-Tom, and then have their cargo loaded directly into waiting super-tankers and the like.
Mobile also has a pretty large ship refurbishing business (including Navy vessels, tugs, etc.) So, there was a LOT of noise and commotion – jack hammers, sandblasters, etc.Photo: This is the new USS Independence (LCS-2) that is being built for the US Navy in Mobile, AL. It's a trimaran-design hull, that reportedly can travel at speeds up to 46 mph (some say with bursts up to 60 mph!!!) It's supposed to be delivered to the Navy on/about September of this year. Our the back of this sucker are four HUGE jet-drive motors (like a jet ski.) This thing is powered by two gas-turbine motors, and two diesel motors. I have heard of similar propulsion systems, that function on the diesel motors at low speeds, and then convert over to the turbine engines for high speed operation. (Note: In response to problems with the propulsion plant, General Dynamics has resequneced the builder's sea trials to test other systems until this is fixed.) You can read more about this all-aluminum (no smoking aboard) ship at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Independence_(LCS-2)
What we didn’t see were any sailboat masts (signifying a pleasure boat harbor/marina.) We didn’t see any transient slips, piers, seawalls, or other “welcome to Mobile” invitations to come ashore. So, we decided to just motor-on, and get down to the Gulf Shores area as quickly as possible (now only 34 miles ahead of us.)
Mobile Bay is as expansive as Tampa Bay – it’s HUGE! Soon after entering the Bay, a pod of dolphins appeared, and headed for our bow to play and ride our bow-wave.
All of the other boats that we have owned, we planning “go-fast” boats – so the dolphins surfed/jumped in our wake. This boat, however, doesn’t have much of a wake (because it has a semi-displacement hull design.) Instead of getting on top of the water, this hull is designed to swim THROUGH the water – never getting up onto plane. So, this means that we “push” quite a bit of water up front (like a waterborne plow.) So, the dolphins surf the FRONT of this style of boat – and surf they did.
The dolphins would ride our bow for a minute or two, then disappear, and later we would see them several hundred yards behind us. One pod after another, they would come, play, and then leave – as we crossed the bay.
The weather forecast had predicted calm winds and seas, and no tropical storm activity expected for the next 48 hours. There was (as always) a risk of afternoon pop-up coastal thunderstorms – but, that’s pretty typical of coastal towns in the humid southeast.
It was noon by the time we entered the Bay. As forecasted, the seas were pretty calm, and winds were light (2-7 mph) both at our nose – which is the easiest way to take the wind/waves in our boat. (When the winds are directly astern, the breeze tends to blow the smell of our exhaust past us, and it can make you feel kinda ill after awhile of that…) Following seas seem to push this ol’ bathtub around somewhat helplessly, too (as it did in the Mississippi River.) The rudders work best when water flows front-to-back. When the flowing seas PUSH against us, we seem to meander somewhat aimlessly…
Tips from fellow boaters told us to take the Mobile shipping channel out to “red marker number 50.” Then, head due-west for about a ½-mile or mile between the dredge “spoils,” and then set a course/heading to pick-up a marker buoy about a mile out from the Gulf Shores entry channel. I had pre-plotted the course into our GPS and mapping system days ahead of time, so we simply steered our course accordingly.
This is a fairly nice and easy way to induct inland boaters for big water. We depart from an area surrounded by land and buildings (comfort to the landlubber’s sole.) Then, ease our way down an OVER-MARKED shipping channel (you can almost walk, swim, or cast your fishing line from one marker buoy to the next.) But, as you head out towards deeper water, the shore begins to widen on each side – and there is NO SHORELINE directly in front of you. (But, you still feel the comfort/safety of a distant shoreline to your right/left, and behind you as well.) Oh, while the shipping channel is dredged to 40-something feet deep in most spots, it’s only a couple of hundred feet wide. Outside the shipping channel, the waters are less than 10 feet deep (often only 1-3 feet deep.) So, if something WERE to go bump, we could always just turn right or left and “beach” ourselves until help arrives.
By the way, Kelly has been driving ALL DAY today! She is also the one who is driving us to sea.
When we finally reach Red Marker number 50, she makes the planned left turn, and follows our chart/plot/course through the submerged spoil islands. (They create underwater islands that are only 1-3 feet deep. But, there is a small channel between them now and again – dot marked by any buoys, but clearly documented on the charts, and also well-known to the locals.)
After clearing the spoils, we then make a slight right turn, and now steer 100% according to the map/GPS. We can’t see anything on our horizon anymore. And, there are no channel markers outside the main shipping channel. We are now boating through the “open” Bay on our own.
The first 30-60 minutes of it, are ideal. Sunny skies, calm seas – life is GOOD! Kelly is still driving, and I sit in one of our deck chairs with a cold one, kick my feet up onto the railing, and sit back in the sunshine to watch the pelicans perform for me – aerobatic dives into the water to catch their meals – it seems like HUNDREDS of pelicans are performing – just for me!
I look back in our wake, so see Mobile fading behind us – getting smaller and smaller on the landscape behind us… But, what’s getting bigger and bigger, is a dark grey (almost black) storm cloud that’s enveloping the cityscape.) I say something about it in passing to Kelly, like, “Wow, it looks like a big storm just swallowed Mobile.” I scan our horizon to see if there are any clouds ahead of us, or to our sides – nothing but blue skies – GOOD!
Only a few minutes later, however, I notice that the sunshine I was enjoying minutes ago in my easy chair, has now clouded-over a bit (white clouds at this point – not the mean grey stuff – YET.)
From the looks of it, this storm is building, spreading outwards, and beginning to chase us out to sea. Winds are beginning to shift a bit as well, and the seas are beginning to build. It’s not that the seas are becoming “big” – it’s that they are now shifting to our right/starboard – and beginning to hit us a bit more broadsided – which rocks our boat a bit more dramatically left-to-right – in a rolling motion. (Those of you who get seasick easily, this is your time to STOP reading…)
“Let’s get ready fro the rain,” Kelly smartly suggests. Whether it ever really catches up with us or not – it’s always BEST to be prepared ahead of time. Because by the time it DOES arrive, your hands are FULL with other issues. Kelly grabs all of the portable electronics and snacks and such from the fly bridge, and heads below to stow them safely inside/below in the cabin. I meanwhile take the helm for a bit, and prepare our permanent electronics for a bath (putting covers and bungee cords around them, to keep them from getting blown off during a strong blow.)
Kelly returns to the flybridge, and says she’s feeling a little green. I offer her the helm/wheel (steering the boat actually helps prevent seasickness.) I have experienced the EXACT same thing when flying in a small plane. When you are a passenger, you are kinda just “along for the ride” – and it can be a bit like being in a rollercoaster. But, when YOU are holding the wheel/rudder/stick, it makes you feel a bit more in control of your destiny – your hands seem to tell your brain exactly what’s going on (proactively) instead of having a reactive feeling.
I begin to secure and clean-up a few things on the deck, when I notice that our dingy cover is getting damp around the edges… Weird… We don’t have any rain yet… Why is the dingy cover wet? I dismiss it as some sort of anomaly – maybe some morning dew that was on the deck has washed down onto the dingy’s cover in these now building and tossing waves?
I go below, and boot-up Kelly’s laptop, and tune into www.weather.com. I search for Gulf Shores, AL, and then click on the “weather in motion” link to get a real-time radar picture of our situation. Sure enough, there is a BIG storm enveloping Mobile, and trying to catch us, too!
I go back topside to join Kelly, and tune-in to the weather radio station on our marine VHF handheld. It’s giving us the most recent weather information (computer-generated, and updated once an hour.) Blah, blah, blah about calm seas, and 2-7 knot winds… blah, blah, blah…. (That computer that generates that weather forecast is obviously located inside of a dark/cold datacenter, and doesn’t have a window to see what WE are seeing!)
Then, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, long BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. (you know, that familiar sound that we typically hear on TV at home every now and then – when they “test” the “emergency broadcast system.”) Yup, THAT’S the sound that now blares from our VHF!
“The national weather service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for the Mobile Bay area. This thunderstorm will generate heavy rain, and wind gusts up to 50 miles per hour, and increased wave heights. Lightening can be intense, and boaters are encouraged to go below if they are caught in this storm.”
Great…
But, our lil tug still has a jump on the storm. They say that the storm is moving at 20 miles per hour from west to east. But, we are moving at 7.5 mph to the southeast (mostly south.) I go ahead and push the throttles up a bit – to get us up to about 9 mph.
The seas ARE building quite a bit, but we are still under white clouds – with blue skies ahead of us.
I think we are safe from the rain and lightening, but these seas are REALLY giving us a tossing. I ask Kelly how she’s feeling – and she says that she could vomit at any time now. I offer to bring her the bucket, and she declines. (I take that as a GOOD sign!)
I turn to check out the clouds to our stern, and notice that the ENTIRE dingy cover is now wet! What’s up with THAT?!!!!!
Then, I realize – it’s getting wet from BELOW! The dingy must be FULL of water! The rocking of the boat, has caused the water inside of it, to splash-up to the underside of the cover – which I can then see from above.
Go figure, as we are navigating through our worst seas & weather, our little “life raft” of sorts – is pre-sunk aboard. (The boating folks call this a “freshwater drowning” -- when a boat sinks due to rainwater at the docks and such.) There is so much water in the dingy, that I can’t lift/tilt it to pour it out. And, there’s no drain plug in this little bathtub of a dingy. So, I either have to bail the water out, or siphon it out.
I first try to bail it out. But, since it’s a multi-purpose sailing dingy and row-boat, etc. – there are all kinds of “features” that are in my way (rudder, tiller, oars, oral locks, sail bag, ropes/lines, etc.) Each scoop of the bucket is only removing about a half-gallon of water, and it’s pretty difficult with the rocking/rolling of the boat/seas.
So, I ditch the bucket, and fetch the garden hose instead. I put one end of it into the boat. Instead of sucking at the other end (which would be a REAL pain with this long of a hose,) I attach the opposite end to our water spigot. I briefly turn the spigot on to fill the hose. I then turn it off, and disconnect it – and let gravity do its thing, and auto-start the siphoning process (no sucking of the hose required.)
It works like a charm, and I go up to the dingy to double-check things. By the time I get there, the wave action had caused the end of the hose to pop out/above the water = siphoning has stopped!
I shove it back down into the water, and try the whole process one more time. Again, the process starts perfectly, and again, by the time I get up to the dingy, the hose has been knocked up/out of the waterline – and stopped functioning.
At this point, I’m wishing that I had some sort of brick to place atop the end of the hose, to hold it to the bottom of the dingy. I don’t have a brick…
I scan the decks, and the only thing that I see that LOOKS like a brick, is our stern anchor! But, that would be like using a sledge hammer when you only need a little tap.
Instead, I semi-tie & loop the hose around some of the gear inside of the boat, to make it less susceptible to the rocking of the waves, and prevent it from whipping itself out of position. I watch it for about two minutes, to ensure that it’s NOT going to work itself free. Satisfied with this approach, I go below to the spigot, and re-prime the line.
The third time is indeed a charm. Success!
Over the next hour, the waves began to dissipate a bit (as we now grew closer to the protection of the barrier islands of Gulf Shores.) And, our dingy self-siphoned itself almost completely dry (I couldn’t have planned it any better it I had the time to do so.)
As we entered the protection of the intracoastal waterway (ICW,) we began to clean-up the decks and such from our crossing-of-the-bay. We stowed hoses, and power cords from the night before, and got things looking ship-shape for our arrival into “fancy ports.”
We took showers, and changed into some decent/presentable clothes.
As we arrived in the marina, onlookers gawked and pointed at our big ol’ boat as we idled into the marina. She (the Venture Out) is designed as a coastal cruiser, and seems to be drawing quite a crowd. (This would have been an excellent time to hand a huge “FOR SALE” sign off her railings!) ;-)
But, these were all just tourist/gawkers/dreamers anyway – not REAL boaters. They were admiring us – the adventurers – the travelers, returning from sea.
The day was actually a pretty good hair-raiser. It started off slow and easy, but turned into quite a handful by mid-day. By the time we got to the dock, we were pretty-well spent of our energy and enthusiasm.
The harbormaster was nowhere to be found (these guys apparently have bankers hours.) We went ahead and helped ourselves to a slip of our choice. Just after we got all tied off, turned off the motors, hooked up the shore power lines, and shut down the motors – and ready to call this day DONE – I heard a “bloop” splashing noise, immediately followed by a familiar obscenity from Kelly.
“What was that?” I asked. (not REALLY wanting to hear the answer, because by the sound of the bloop/splash, I knew that it wasn’t something cheap/easy like a pen or a pair of my sunglasses or a leftover Coke can. Nope, that was the sound of something of weight and value.
“It was the radio,” she said.
Being the ever-optimist, I replied, “You mean the portable CD player?” (Which we had just purchased at Wal-Mart before our adventure for $40 bucks or so – so we could have some tunes aboard.)
“No! The handheld VHF!” she replied – with words that I did NOT want to hear. (You know, the ONLY radio that has REALLY been worth a damned this whole trip – the one that WORKS – the one that’s small and convenient to be shoved in my pocket as I run up/down on the boat – the one that is water-resistant (to rain) – but, NOT waterPROOF (to drowning.) Yup – the model that does NOT float!
As I looked up at her, I saw the disappointment/frustration, but ALSO another familiar look – the “you WILL be diving to get that radio” kinda look. (The SAME look that she gave me when the anchor went over unattached, and many other times in our past – when we dropped things into the drink.)
The sun was setting, the water isn’t clear here, and the radio fell between the dock and the boat. So, to dive for it, I was going to have to first move the boat to a different slip (which we did.) At first, we were going to tie-up to the dock closest to the bathrooms and such. But, they were locked (according to Kelly.) So, after maneuvering to tie-up, we called “no joy” on slip #2, and proceeded to a different slip (#3 attempt.) We tied-up the boat, and prepared to then attach our shore power. But, it turns out that THIS particular slip, ONLY had 50-amp service (and we need 30-amp service.) So, I walked the docks a bit, checking each power-post, to finally find one with 30-amp service. So, we moved the boat (AGAIN) to slip #4 for the day.
We tied-up, but I didn’t hook-up power (yet.) The sun was setting, and if I was going to find that radio, I needed to make haste and get wet ASAP. I grabbed the fins, mask and snorkel, and a flat cushion, and made my way to the scene of the bloop.
I reluctantly geared-up, and stepped off into the water. (Note: Fish are jumping ALL AROUND the surface here – usually a sign that a predator fish is in the hood. I have also already seen jellyfish in this cove, and marinas are also known for having “naughty guests” who still flush their heads (toilets) into the marina.) So, yes, I’m jumping into a cesspool filled with unseen predators and things that bite and sting. Are we having fun yet? Welcome to LuLus! (LuLu is apparently the sister to Jimmy Buffett.)
The depth gauge on our boat was reading 4 feet here. But, that’s from the bottom of our boat, which is already 4 feet deep. So, it’s REALLY about 8 feet deep here. The water is so dark, that a flashlight or such is useless. I just take a deep breath, and dive down (hands-first) until they touch bottom. Will it be sand? Rock? Mud? Silt? Having fun yet? I was hoping for sand. But, got silt atop mud instead. (expect the best, receive the worst.) ;-)
I then swim across the bottom like some sort of overgrown flounder. I need to the entire length of my arms to search through the muck – not just my hands. (I need to make as much “surface contact” as possible. This means, that I literally swim with my chest & belly sliding across the silt bottom, as I then wave/fan my arms out ahead of me – like underwater jumping jacks. The entire length of my arms in contact with the bottom.
First attempt = nothing. Second attempt = nothing. Third attempt = nothing. I know it’s down there – somewhere, and Kelly’s not going to be happy until I bring it up. I know that it’s done-for – not designed for this kinda dunk/bath. But, this isn’t about the radio at this point. This is about marriage/emotions. Find the radio = happy (but disappointed) wife. Don’t find the radio = he didn’t TRY hard enough – he COULD have found it if he TRIED harder!!!
Maybe – just MAYBE the radio DOES float??? Maybe it fell into the drink, but then floated up/under the dock (and is stuck there?) So, while I’m still in the water, I also put my hands under the dock, and FEEL every inch of it, too. All of the barnacles, slimy mossy stuff, bilge stuff, ew, ew, ew!!! Nope, no radio. So, I return to diving. This time, I will swim further beneath the docks. It’s COMPLETELY dark under the docks. And, when you swim under them, you have to make sure that you have an exit plan. You don’t want to attempt to surface from beneath them, and then bang your head on the bottom of them. If I has wearing SCUBA gear, this would be no issue. I could take my time, and search under the docks slowly, and then come up slowly/carefully. But, since I am skin-diving on my own breath, I have to make sure that I not only have enough spare-air in reserve to come UP, but also enough to FIRST swim out/away from the docks, THEN up.
Still = nothing.
I noticed as we arrived, that it was a bit difficult to get the boat to snug-up to the dock. I’m assuming that the tide was coming in, thus, there was a slight current pushing me away/off the dock. If that’s the case, then maybe the radio is actually a bit further away from the dock – then beneath it. So, I next do a pass a yard or so away from the dock. Bingo! Success! One well-wet radio recovered!
Note: The only other thing that I found was a small piece of log. I would have thought that there would have been more stuff down there – tools, wallets, sunglasses, beer bottles, etc. Go figure.
As assumed, our offering of a VHF radio to Nemo the sea gods had been accepted and received by him. Because when we got it back to the boat, and freshwater rinsed it, then dismantled it, and put it under the fan to dry it out overnight – it didn’t power-up upon reassembly. Our little handheld VHF was dead as a doornail, its soul is with Nemo now.
Our day was finally DONE! We didn’t have the energy, enthusiasm, or desire to even go to LuLus for dinner & drinks. Instead, we simply collapsed on the sofa, with clicker in-hand, and licked our wounds as we watched TV.
Wounds: I pretty much HATE boat cleats, engine vents, turnbuckles, and any/all other rigging that protrudes from the decks of boats. I have two unique gifts in life: 1 = I can get dirty – even when no dirt is around. Even if I try NOT to get dirty, I somehow manage to get dirty! It’s a gift. 2 = My toes have the ability to find and stub/cut themselves on ANYTHING that protrudes from the decks. (Kelly has developed this gift as well.) And, we have now extended this feature to our hands, too! So, we are both sporting Band-Aids on our hands and feet, and both have split-open big toenails due to boat-related stunts + deck gear.
But, we are SAFE! We are in saltwater! We have seen TONS of dolphins already! Kelly has made plans to meet-up with Laura and the girls, and spend a day doing laundry at their condo, and sitting at the beach. She’s making plans to make dinner for them, and maybe even catch a soaking in their bathtub as well.
I’m going to stay at the boat Tuesday, to catch-up on some maintenance chores, and work-related stuff. Maybe even hunt down that harbormaster and try to pay out slip rental fees? (Maybe not?) ;-) I haven’t done ANYTHING pirate-like this whole trip (except polish-off a huge bottle of Captain Morgan rum.)
Our river-cruising days are behind us, we are coastal-cruisers now. I wish I could say that our days in the “ditch” are behind us. Unfortunately, much of the ICW is also man-made “ditch” as well. But, it should be a bit prettier ditch, dotted with marinas, waterfront homes, more pleasure boats, manatees, dolphins, etc. We are only 10-20 miles from the Florida state line. Once we cross that line, it will be “rods in the water” for the rest of our trip. (Alabama is still kinda weird about fishing licenses for nonresidents and such – so we won’t be fishing while we are here.)
Note: We may be holed-up in this marina for a few days as we visit with Mark & Laura, and do our chores, make a Wal-Mart reprovisioning run, and such. (Nothing worth blogging about.) Once we get moving again (probably two or three days,) we will resume blogging.
Venture Out (“over”) for now…
Nick & Kell.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Magellan the Monarch
I have always been interested in maps, charts, treasure maps, and such. As a kid, I used to make my own “authentic” treasure maps. I’d use extra-thick, quality paper, and then use an old-fashioned quill-style pen to draw and illustrate my maps. Then, the pyro in me would take over. I’d carefully hold a lighter under the paper, to warm it enough to change to a more golden brown. I’d then singe the edges a bit, too – to make them a darker brown and oddly-ruffled due to the shape of the burning. The end result was actually pretty decent looking – for a kid.
In the military, I learned “land navigation” and such. I was trained on how to read topographical maps, how to properly use a compass to triangulate my position, and how to “pace” myself (at both a walk, and a jog) to calculate accurate distances traveled.
After the military, I took private pilot lessons (ground school) as well as some flight lessons (just about to solo, when 9-11 grounded all of us.) I learned how to read aviation charts, how to leverage broadcast signals from radio towers to triangulate my position, and also GPS functionality.
So, before heading out on this semi- ,cross-country adventure, I purchased one of the best nautical navigational programs on the market. It’s a PC-based program, so I can run it on my laptop (or shipboard computer.) I attached a GPS antenna to my laptop, and this program then plots my position onto the charts. AND… Not just ONE chart, but MULTIPLE charts! Raster charts, vector charts, terra server maps, topographical maps, satellite photos, etc. The software also came with these maps for ALL of the US and its territorial waters. (Most nautical GPS makers only give you ONE specific region/area, and then you have to buy extra “modules” for other areas/regions.) Whereas, the software that I purchased, includes them ALL (plus tidal information, and weather information, and more!)
I assumed that this would be the BEST OF THE BEST when it comes to navigation. I should be able to drive almost blindfolded with all these whiz-bang GPS mapping programs and such – right?
So, imagine my surprise, when I purchased “Global NAVIGATOR” software, and one of the FIRST instruction/warning sheets say, “US Army Corp of Engineers Rastor Charts are NOT to be used for navigational purposes.”
What?!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did buy Global “Navigator” – right?
I went ahead and installed ALL of the software onto my laptop. Not 20 CDs – no, that would be to easy – this was 20 DVDs of data!!!!!!!
Afterward, I walked around the docks of Alton Marina with my laptop and GPS in-hand – watching as it tracked my location – down to the specific gangplank/dock/pier that I was on (roughly one-foot worth of accuracy.) I did the same with Google Earth, and received the same results. SURELY that must have simply been a “legalese” safety warning on that label – to hold the manufacturer harmless for any boating accidents – right?
All was pretty good down the Mississippi River. There weren’t any “vector” charts of inland rivers – only raster charts. But, they SEEMED to be working well enough…
That is UNTIL we entered the Ohio River, and then the Tennessee River. From that moment onward, I learned EXACTLY what the manufacturer meant by “not to be used for navigational purposes.”
Here is MY explanation of what raster charts are: They are “fuzzy” charts, not really drawn to scale, by multiple people – who do NOT speak to one another, nor share/compare their work. Plus, they use CRAYONS and slide-rules and etch-a-sketch as their computers to create their maps.
Sure, they label where all of the channel markers SHOULD be located. Sure, the show that the river bends to the right, and then to the left, etc. But, when you try to connect charts edge-to-edge – their waterways don’t even line up – BY A LONG SHOT!!! And, sometimes, they publish their chart “legends” right over the seam (main river) where the charts are SUPPOSED to be aligned!
And, NEITHER chart is accurate to GPS-level correction. At times, it looked as if our boat was traveling ½-mile inland from the river!
My daughter (who is a GREAT musician, actress, and PEFORMING arts person – but, a lousy fine-artist) could make a BETTER and MORE ACCURATE chart than the clowns at the Army Corp of Engineers.
Sidebar: Don’t EVEN say that this is an “Army” issue. I was in the Army, and this level of inaccuracy would have NEVER been tolerated. Plus, I have been locking-through dam after dam and lock-after-lock that has been operated by the “ARMY” Corp of Engineers – and I haven’t seen a SINGLE soldier! All I see are civilians/ So, don’t even TRY to blame my green-suited friends for this stuff!
Anyway, when we finally got down into the Tenn-Tom Waterway, at some point along the way, vector charts finally became available.
While raster charts are the equivalent to a Ronald McDonaldland play map – vector charts are the exact opposite. Vector charts seem to have been created by retired NASA nerds. These suckers are wicked-accurate. You CAN “navigate” with these puppies!!!
And, thankfully so!
When we hit the rain areas these past few days, it always seemed to come down the strongest/hardest during the most twisty portion of our journey. They rain came on SO FAST, and came down SO HARD, that there wasn’t time to seek shelter/cover or find a “safe” cove to hold-up in. There were NO COVES!!! We were in “the ditch.” The banks were rock levees, and they were just two endless parallel banks that extended for MILES. And, not necessarily STRAIGHT parallel lines. Nope, they twisted and turned, sometimes making nearly complete circles in one direction, before un-circling into the complete opposite direction. The rain was coming down almost like THICK FOG during some of these events. THANKFULLY, we were within VECTOR charting areas!
With the vector charts, we can literally drive “blind” to what’s outside. Not that this is a “safe” practice!!! But, the accuracy of these charts is down to the foot, so we knew that we weren’t going to run ashore, or into the shallows and get swamped.
“Our” biggest fear were the tugs/barges traveling upstream towards us. But, they are equipped with the same charts, PLUS radar and other equipment (night vision, etc.) to help them see through pretty much anything. So, they can see us (even if we can’t see them.) So, the only REAL threat, was fellow boaters (like us) who were temporarily blinded by the rains. We weren’t too worried about other “cruisers” like us (who are poking along at only 5-10 miles per hour.) Instead, or biggest risk was the weekend boater, who maybe tried to RACE their small, uncovered pleasure boat out of the downpour – and right into us. We would have had ZERO chance to react/maneuver out of their path.
I also began to do as I learned when I was flying. I began to “broadcast” out location and such “into the blind.” Channel 16 is the “general” channel for boaters. So, I reduced my radio from 5 watts or power, down to only 1 watt of power (thus, focusing my broadcasts to only LOCAL fellow boaters.) I then periodically broadcast our position (via mile-markers) as we proceeded downstream. River traffic has been nearly ZERO. Thus, I never received a single reply to ANY of my “blind” broadcasts. But, I figured that I was better safe than sorry. Maybe they were having radio problems, and could only “hear” – but, not “respond” to my broadcasts and positioning?
Anyway, we made it through, without any issues or incident. I do NOT recommend it! It’s white-knuckled driving – like driving your car through a snowstorm that you KNOW that you shouldn’t be driving in. When you get home, you thank God, and your lucky stars, and promise to NEVER do something that STUPID again.
In our case, we didn’t have much choice. But, THANKFULLY, we were within vector chart zones. We would NOT have been able to safely navigate those waters and weather conditions with only raster charts. We would have definitely run aground somewhere (due to their inaccuracy.)
To, my hat goes off to the makers of vector charts, GPSs, and Magellan himself. Our boat has several compasses, above and below. It also has a semi-functional (old-school) radar unit. But, it’s most POWERFUL and USEFUL tool, has been the vector charts PLUS the GPS.
Last night, we had a repeat performance of sorts. As the storms finally stopped pouring onto us, the sun then set. The cloud-filled skies made for a DARK river. We tried to stop at cove after cove for the night, but they were all too shallow. So, we had to keep pressing onward – into the ink of the night. Again, VECTOR charts to the rescue! We were able to poke our way (cutting our speed in half) to our destination. We arrived quite a bit after sunset, and the place was already closed, and the docks were already FULL of other boats (faster boats that beat us to the marina.) So, we had to back-track up river a few hundred yards, and drop hook as close as possible to a creek inlet. We were still on the river itself. But, so was the marina. A passing barge seemed to slow down as it passed the marina – which meant that it was also slow as it went past us. So, I figured that our proximity to the marina would benefit us (tugs know to slow-down here and try to make no wakes.) Plus, the first passing barge was a great test – to confirm that our two anchors were properly set (and holding.) And, that their wave wouldn’t wash us into the shoreline.
Today (Sunday) the skies opened with a torrential downpour (again.) We are experienced with our vector chart navigation routines now!
In the beginning, we would retreat below, to the warmth and dryness of the lower helm. But, the rain on the windshields was so thick, that you couldn’t see through the raindrops. So, today we learned, that it’s better to just suit-up in our raingear, and continue to drive from above (in the flybridge.) We have a GREAT, unobstructed view of the river, and we have our vector charts to boot. (I have set-up a remote monitor to my laptop, so I now have our digital GPS charts both above and below – way kewl!)
Oh, and a few words about trying to navigate via navigational buoys…
I think those suckers are worth POINTS or something to passing barges!
We have seen DOZENS of navigational buoys that have come loose, and been washed up into the banks and trees – or simply moved/pushed/floated into a new/different location (and now reflecting a COMPLETELY WRONG message to passing boaters.) There are several rules of thumb when navigating via channel markers. But, the most common saying is, “Red, Right, Returning.” This means that when you are returning from the sea, the red markers will be on the right bank/side, and the green markers will be on the left bank/side. (Naturally, of you are heading OUT to sea, then the markers are on your opposite sides.)
But, it CAN get confusing, when you are running a channel that’s parallel to the sea (like the intracoastal waterway.) Or, when rivers merge and such.
GENERALLY speaking, you just make sure that you stay BETWEEN the red and green markers. Life BETWEEN the markers is usually “good.” Life OUTSIDE the markers is usually risky, and makes you aware of the risks pretty quickly (submerged dikes and levees; shoals and shallows; and other underwater obstructions.)
So, you can imagine our surprise when it APPEARS that our red & green marker buoys are leading us STRAIGTH shore at one point!!! (I took a picture of it.) Apparently, a red channel marker from upstream, and pulled loose for awhile, and drifted downstream, until it’s anchor finally “re-caught” itself (coincidentally adjacent to a green marker buoy.) So, if you were motoring along in complete darkness, and “spotlighting” the reflections of marker buoys, and just “driving” between red and green – these two buoys would have directed you straight ashore!!!
In closing, I have been astonished by things passing us (and illustrating how slowly we are traveling.) The most ultimate insult to-date = BUTTERFLIES are passing us!!!!
Several passed us this morning before the rains. At one point, a Monarch butterfly landed on my shoulder, as if to say, “Howdy.” It then flew off my shoulder, and down to the helm/control area. For about 20 minutes there, Magellan the Monarch had the helm! He seemed quite content to be catching a free and easy ride southbound. Unfortunately, the rains soon came, and I had to run around like crazy to put a few electrical items and such away (to avoid getting them wet and ruined.) In my mad-dash rush, Magellan the Monarch was scared, and flew away to safety.
About 55 miles from the coastline today, we began to pickup a flock of seagulls. They seemed to know the look/shape of a fishing boat or shrimp boat (trawler-style.) They followed behind us, periodically diving into the churning water behind our props, to catch a stunned/wayward fish.
For us, they were like the welcome wagon – calling “welcome home” to us.
We have yet to see a gator during this trip. (I expect to see dophins and manatees once we get into the intercoastal waterway, too.)
We made it to the 20 mile marker today (20 miles north of Mobile, AL.) That’s a 98-mile run (and includes one lock-through.) But, we are at sea-level now – no more locks – YIPPEE!!!
Tomorrow, we only have about a 60-mile (or so) run from our current anchorage, to Gulf Shores, AL. Hopefully, we will be done sometime between 3 and 5 pm tomorrow (local time.) It depends on the weather and such. But, the tides are in our favor (falling tide as we were approaching tonight – which sucks us FASTER towards the sea.) And, high-tide in the mid-morning (when we have to make a few-hour run across the shallows.)
We can’t WAIT for the water to get clear!
Night all,
Nick & Kelly
In the military, I learned “land navigation” and such. I was trained on how to read topographical maps, how to properly use a compass to triangulate my position, and how to “pace” myself (at both a walk, and a jog) to calculate accurate distances traveled.
After the military, I took private pilot lessons (ground school) as well as some flight lessons (just about to solo, when 9-11 grounded all of us.) I learned how to read aviation charts, how to leverage broadcast signals from radio towers to triangulate my position, and also GPS functionality.
So, before heading out on this semi- ,cross-country adventure, I purchased one of the best nautical navigational programs on the market. It’s a PC-based program, so I can run it on my laptop (or shipboard computer.) I attached a GPS antenna to my laptop, and this program then plots my position onto the charts. AND… Not just ONE chart, but MULTIPLE charts! Raster charts, vector charts, terra server maps, topographical maps, satellite photos, etc. The software also came with these maps for ALL of the US and its territorial waters. (Most nautical GPS makers only give you ONE specific region/area, and then you have to buy extra “modules” for other areas/regions.) Whereas, the software that I purchased, includes them ALL (plus tidal information, and weather information, and more!)
I assumed that this would be the BEST OF THE BEST when it comes to navigation. I should be able to drive almost blindfolded with all these whiz-bang GPS mapping programs and such – right?
So, imagine my surprise, when I purchased “Global NAVIGATOR” software, and one of the FIRST instruction/warning sheets say, “US Army Corp of Engineers Rastor Charts are NOT to be used for navigational purposes.”
What?!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did buy Global “Navigator” – right?
I went ahead and installed ALL of the software onto my laptop. Not 20 CDs – no, that would be to easy – this was 20 DVDs of data!!!!!!!
Afterward, I walked around the docks of Alton Marina with my laptop and GPS in-hand – watching as it tracked my location – down to the specific gangplank/dock/pier that I was on (roughly one-foot worth of accuracy.) I did the same with Google Earth, and received the same results. SURELY that must have simply been a “legalese” safety warning on that label – to hold the manufacturer harmless for any boating accidents – right?
All was pretty good down the Mississippi River. There weren’t any “vector” charts of inland rivers – only raster charts. But, they SEEMED to be working well enough…
That is UNTIL we entered the Ohio River, and then the Tennessee River. From that moment onward, I learned EXACTLY what the manufacturer meant by “not to be used for navigational purposes.”
Here is MY explanation of what raster charts are: They are “fuzzy” charts, not really drawn to scale, by multiple people – who do NOT speak to one another, nor share/compare their work. Plus, they use CRAYONS and slide-rules and etch-a-sketch as their computers to create their maps.
Sure, they label where all of the channel markers SHOULD be located. Sure, the show that the river bends to the right, and then to the left, etc. But, when you try to connect charts edge-to-edge – their waterways don’t even line up – BY A LONG SHOT!!! And, sometimes, they publish their chart “legends” right over the seam (main river) where the charts are SUPPOSED to be aligned!
And, NEITHER chart is accurate to GPS-level correction. At times, it looked as if our boat was traveling ½-mile inland from the river!
My daughter (who is a GREAT musician, actress, and PEFORMING arts person – but, a lousy fine-artist) could make a BETTER and MORE ACCURATE chart than the clowns at the Army Corp of Engineers.
Sidebar: Don’t EVEN say that this is an “Army” issue. I was in the Army, and this level of inaccuracy would have NEVER been tolerated. Plus, I have been locking-through dam after dam and lock-after-lock that has been operated by the “ARMY” Corp of Engineers – and I haven’t seen a SINGLE soldier! All I see are civilians/ So, don’t even TRY to blame my green-suited friends for this stuff!
Anyway, when we finally got down into the Tenn-Tom Waterway, at some point along the way, vector charts finally became available.
While raster charts are the equivalent to a Ronald McDonaldland play map – vector charts are the exact opposite. Vector charts seem to have been created by retired NASA nerds. These suckers are wicked-accurate. You CAN “navigate” with these puppies!!!
And, thankfully so!
When we hit the rain areas these past few days, it always seemed to come down the strongest/hardest during the most twisty portion of our journey. They rain came on SO FAST, and came down SO HARD, that there wasn’t time to seek shelter/cover or find a “safe” cove to hold-up in. There were NO COVES!!! We were in “the ditch.” The banks were rock levees, and they were just two endless parallel banks that extended for MILES. And, not necessarily STRAIGHT parallel lines. Nope, they twisted and turned, sometimes making nearly complete circles in one direction, before un-circling into the complete opposite direction. The rain was coming down almost like THICK FOG during some of these events. THANKFULLY, we were within VECTOR charting areas!
With the vector charts, we can literally drive “blind” to what’s outside. Not that this is a “safe” practice!!! But, the accuracy of these charts is down to the foot, so we knew that we weren’t going to run ashore, or into the shallows and get swamped.
“Our” biggest fear were the tugs/barges traveling upstream towards us. But, they are equipped with the same charts, PLUS radar and other equipment (night vision, etc.) to help them see through pretty much anything. So, they can see us (even if we can’t see them.) So, the only REAL threat, was fellow boaters (like us) who were temporarily blinded by the rains. We weren’t too worried about other “cruisers” like us (who are poking along at only 5-10 miles per hour.) Instead, or biggest risk was the weekend boater, who maybe tried to RACE their small, uncovered pleasure boat out of the downpour – and right into us. We would have had ZERO chance to react/maneuver out of their path.
I also began to do as I learned when I was flying. I began to “broadcast” out location and such “into the blind.” Channel 16 is the “general” channel for boaters. So, I reduced my radio from 5 watts or power, down to only 1 watt of power (thus, focusing my broadcasts to only LOCAL fellow boaters.) I then periodically broadcast our position (via mile-markers) as we proceeded downstream. River traffic has been nearly ZERO. Thus, I never received a single reply to ANY of my “blind” broadcasts. But, I figured that I was better safe than sorry. Maybe they were having radio problems, and could only “hear” – but, not “respond” to my broadcasts and positioning?
Anyway, we made it through, without any issues or incident. I do NOT recommend it! It’s white-knuckled driving – like driving your car through a snowstorm that you KNOW that you shouldn’t be driving in. When you get home, you thank God, and your lucky stars, and promise to NEVER do something that STUPID again.
In our case, we didn’t have much choice. But, THANKFULLY, we were within vector chart zones. We would NOT have been able to safely navigate those waters and weather conditions with only raster charts. We would have definitely run aground somewhere (due to their inaccuracy.)
To, my hat goes off to the makers of vector charts, GPSs, and Magellan himself. Our boat has several compasses, above and below. It also has a semi-functional (old-school) radar unit. But, it’s most POWERFUL and USEFUL tool, has been the vector charts PLUS the GPS.
Last night, we had a repeat performance of sorts. As the storms finally stopped pouring onto us, the sun then set. The cloud-filled skies made for a DARK river. We tried to stop at cove after cove for the night, but they were all too shallow. So, we had to keep pressing onward – into the ink of the night. Again, VECTOR charts to the rescue! We were able to poke our way (cutting our speed in half) to our destination. We arrived quite a bit after sunset, and the place was already closed, and the docks were already FULL of other boats (faster boats that beat us to the marina.) So, we had to back-track up river a few hundred yards, and drop hook as close as possible to a creek inlet. We were still on the river itself. But, so was the marina. A passing barge seemed to slow down as it passed the marina – which meant that it was also slow as it went past us. So, I figured that our proximity to the marina would benefit us (tugs know to slow-down here and try to make no wakes.) Plus, the first passing barge was a great test – to confirm that our two anchors were properly set (and holding.) And, that their wave wouldn’t wash us into the shoreline.
Today (Sunday) the skies opened with a torrential downpour (again.) We are experienced with our vector chart navigation routines now!
In the beginning, we would retreat below, to the warmth and dryness of the lower helm. But, the rain on the windshields was so thick, that you couldn’t see through the raindrops. So, today we learned, that it’s better to just suit-up in our raingear, and continue to drive from above (in the flybridge.) We have a GREAT, unobstructed view of the river, and we have our vector charts to boot. (I have set-up a remote monitor to my laptop, so I now have our digital GPS charts both above and below – way kewl!)
Oh, and a few words about trying to navigate via navigational buoys…I think those suckers are worth POINTS or something to passing barges!
We have seen DOZENS of navigational buoys that have come loose, and been washed up into the banks and trees – or simply moved/pushed/floated into a new/different location (and now reflecting a COMPLETELY WRONG message to passing boaters.) There are several rules of thumb when navigating via channel markers. But, the most common saying is, “Red, Right, Returning.” This means that when you are returning from the sea, the red markers will be on the right bank/side, and the green markers will be on the left bank/side. (Naturally, of you are heading OUT to sea, then the markers are on your opposite sides.)
But, it CAN get confusing, when you are running a channel that’s parallel to the sea (like the intracoastal waterway.) Or, when rivers merge and such.
GENERALLY speaking, you just make sure that you stay BETWEEN the red and green markers. Life BETWEEN the markers is usually “good.” Life OUTSIDE the markers is usually risky, and makes you aware of the risks pretty quickly (submerged dikes and levees; shoals and shallows; and other underwater obstructions.)
So, you can imagine our surprise when it APPEARS that our red & green marker buoys are leading us STRAIGTH shore at one point!!! (I took a picture of it.) Apparently, a red channel marker from upstream, and pulled loose for awhile, and drifted downstream, until it’s anchor finally “re-caught” itself (coincidentally adjacent to a green marker buoy.) So, if you were motoring along in complete darkness, and “spotlighting” the reflections of marker buoys, and just “driving” between red and green – these two buoys would have directed you straight ashore!!!
In closing, I have been astonished by things passing us (and illustrating how slowly we are traveling.) The most ultimate insult to-date = BUTTERFLIES are passing us!!!!Several passed us this morning before the rains. At one point, a Monarch butterfly landed on my shoulder, as if to say, “Howdy.” It then flew off my shoulder, and down to the helm/control area. For about 20 minutes there, Magellan the Monarch had the helm! He seemed quite content to be catching a free and easy ride southbound. Unfortunately, the rains soon came, and I had to run around like crazy to put a few electrical items and such away (to avoid getting them wet and ruined.) In my mad-dash rush, Magellan the Monarch was scared, and flew away to safety.
About 55 miles from the coastline today, we began to pickup a flock of seagulls. They seemed to know the look/shape of a fishing boat or shrimp boat (trawler-style.) They followed behind us, periodically diving into the churning water behind our props, to catch a stunned/wayward fish.
For us, they were like the welcome wagon – calling “welcome home” to us.
We have yet to see a gator during this trip. (I expect to see dophins and manatees once we get into the intercoastal waterway, too.)
We made it to the 20 mile marker today (20 miles north of Mobile, AL.) That’s a 98-mile run (and includes one lock-through.) But, we are at sea-level now – no more locks – YIPPEE!!!
Tomorrow, we only have about a 60-mile (or so) run from our current anchorage, to Gulf Shores, AL. Hopefully, we will be done sometime between 3 and 5 pm tomorrow (local time.) It depends on the weather and such. But, the tides are in our favor (falling tide as we were approaching tonight – which sucks us FASTER towards the sea.) And, high-tide in the mid-morning (when we have to make a few-hour run across the shallows.)
We can’t WAIT for the water to get clear!
Night all,
Nick & Kelly
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