Bahia Honda State Park, Florida – Nov 24, 25, 26

We moved 30 miles up the coast to Bahia Honda State Park. We were anxious to do the cruising thing. Anchor out. Subsistence living. Explore. Experience Nature. That kind of crap.

Halfway to Bahia Honda, nature experienced us. We ran over a crab pot. Or maybe it was a lobster pot. We can’t tell the difference.. Whatever kind of pot it was, it wrapped twice clockwise round part of our prop and the prop shaft. We were lucky to have been sailing at the time, so the wraps were minimal.

You may be asking yourself why we were so specific about the wraps. It’s because we got to dive the boat and free the wraps. This was not nearly so exhilarating as the cruising books would have you believe. It was frigging terrifying. Imagine diving overboard into cold water, to swim beneath a lurching, plunging boat. With a knife clenched between your teeth. If you go too deep, you cannot reach up to the prop. If you go too shallow, the boat falls off a wave and hits you in the head. If you’re not careful, you will cut yourself with the knife or worse – damage the boat. Oh. And you only have 10 or 15 seconds of air per dive to work on the prop. And the visibility could be better. And there might be things in the water and well… you get the idea.

Some of you reading this will snicker and think to yourself, “15 seconds, hell. I can hold my breath for two minutes.”

Let us let you in on a little secret. We can hold our breath longer than you. We still hold the Texas A&M Water Polo team record for distance swum under water – 85 yards. That’s right. You read it right. 85 yards.  We can do things in the water that you will never understand. Well, maybe 0.000001% of you. Most of you though, fuggitaboutit.

When you are cold however. And the boat is moving. And you fear for your mortal soul. 15 seconds is max. Max man. Max.

After that little adventure, anchoring the boat was relatively easy. We tried 7 times to get the anchor to hold in the designated cruising anchorage off the park. We were to learn later that the area has notoriously poor holding. So bad, in fact, that many cruisers refuse to even attempt anchoring there. Not us. We were going to conquer it. Tonight.

Our anchoring futility became so bad, at one point, that a helpful soul living aboard a 26 foot McGregor sailboat came rowing out to tell us specifically where the holding was better. some of you will recognize the irony here. The new place was no better.

We need to work on our anchoring technique. Some couples anchor professionally and smoothly, slowly backing down and applying increasing pressure as they back down. The person on the pointy end generally has his hand on the anchor chain, sensing from the vibrations whether the anchor is dragging. Other couples, like us, are a bit noisier. We have a simple system of hand signals, but no set of hand signals can possibly cover every anchoring situation. Like for instance how do you say, “I told you THREE times the motor is IN REVERSE. YOU ARE AN IDIOT.” with only hand signals? Or how bout “If you let the stern swing to port one more time I’m going to come back there and… well, do something.” You just cannot say some things with hand signals.

Our anchoring technique is a bit different from most cruisers. It involves a lot of prayer. And some luck. But mostly prayer.

We drug three times the first night. With a lee shore about 100 yards away. The second time, the GPS anchor alarm did not go off. Or maybe we didn’t hear it. Or maybe we accidentally turned it off and ALMOST LOST THE BOAT. So we set the anchor alarms for both the primary and secondary GPS. Then set our watches on 15 minute count down repeat. Yep. We woke up every 15 minutes. All. Night. Long.

Oh, this cruising thing is nice. Try it. You’ll love it.

We switched anchorages the next night. To the south side of the island in white sand. And slept for almost 8 hours straight. Then made breakfast and continued up the east coast of Florida.

Key West, Florida – Nov 15 to Nov 24, Interrupted By a Four Day Trip to Orlando

I cannot begin to describe what a massive sense of relief we all felt at safely crossing the Gulf of Mexico. Some serious celebrating was in order. After sleeping for about 14 hours we began exploring Key West. Especially the bars. We rented bikes and pranced around town like we owned the place. We waited for people to talk to us.

Them: Hi, where are you from?
Us: We’re from Houston. We just sailed across the Gulf.
Them: That is totally cool.

Them: Hey dude. What’s up?
Us: We just sailed across the Gulf.
Them: Right on, dude.

Them: Would you like french fries with your burger?
Us: We sailed our little sailboat from Houston to Key West!
Them:
Us: How bout them apples?
Them: We do not sell apples here, sir.

Them: Where is the bathroom?
Us: We just sailed our friggin boat across the friggin Gulf!
Them:
Us:
Them: Are they over in the corner?
Us: High five! Woooo! Hoooooaaah!
Them:
Us:
Them: Please do not touch me again, or I will summon the police.
Us: Cmon… another high five? Across the Gulf, baby.
Them:
Us:
Them: I’m dialing 911.
Us: Sh!t. Run everybody. And remember, if you turn sideways, the Cops probably cannot see you.

We went to Mallory Square and heckled the street performers. Sam juggled. Dana was overserved. Walter and Beverly rented a room with a real shower and a real TV and internet access. Then went back to Houston a few days later.

Sam, Dana, and I drove up to Disneyworld for a few days in our killer Avis minivan rental. We left the boat tied up at Safe Harbour Marina. So much has been written about Disneyworld, that we will not attempt to do it justive here. It was about what you might expect. All touristy and stuff. We were a little taken aback by how clean and antiseptic Disneyworld is. It is definitely not a real world experience. And it’s seriously pricey. We’re still finding credit card receipts. But Sam loved it and Dana and I had never been. So we checked it off the list of things you really should do at least once.

When we got back, wanderlust reasserted itself and we began planning the next phase of the game. We weren’t too keen on cruising Florida, so we wanted to make the jump to the Bahamas fairly soon. We envisioned a 3 day trip up the east coast of Florida, and a jump point some where near Rodrigez or Tavernier Keys.

We like typing the phrase “jump point.” Sounds cool too. Vaguely military.

Gulf Crossing Day 7 – Thursday, 14 Nov

Position @ 06:30: 24 deg 19.34 min N, 82 deg, 30.31 min W

We were eventually able to get out of the southwest setting current and beat towards Key West in 10 knots of east breeze. The primary fuel filter plugged up again, so we changed it.

In the middle of the night (maybe we were getting a little punchy,) we took one long tack out into the edge of the Gulf Stream, hoping to gain some NE current help. Big mistake. The waves in the Stream did not resemble normal waves. Driving was like negotiating a moguls course. The waves came in tight bunches that demanded active steering. If we took a wave head on, the boat would lunge suddenly and shudder from the impact. Living below was miserable. Sleep was impossible. Luckily, we had a bright moon, so we could see the big waves coming.

After 2 hours of this torment, we all agreed to tack to starboard and head northest towards the Florida coast.

Nobody slept much for the last 24 hours. Especially Walter. My best conversation with Walter occurred just after I woke for my watch.

Me: You look tired. You really need to lay down.
Walter: Yea.
Me: Have you slept at all?
Walter: No. Not really.
Me: Go lay down. I got this.
Walter: Yea. I better go to sleep. I’m making really bad decisions right now.
Me: Cool. See ya.
Walter: Let’s Tack.
Me:
Walter:
Me: Ummm. Maybe I’ll look at the chart first.
Walter: Good idea.

We arrived at Stock Island’s Safe Harbour Marina (located just east of Key West) at 2:07 PM. Seven days and seven hours after leaving the dock at Kemah.

Several hours later, Beverly, Dana, Walter, and myself were well and truly inebriated.

Gulf Crossing Day 6 – Wednesday, Nov 12th

Position @ 08:00: 24 deg 26.06 min North, 85 deg 30.88 min West

The day we proved our mettle.

The waves finally aligned with the east wind. for the previous day or so, the waves had been out of the northeast, so our east-southeast course allowed us to take the waves on the beam. On day 6, the wind again got up to about 20, and the seas were on the nose. And of course, we were beating. Waves were occasionally broke over the bow of the boat. The solar vent on the forward head compartment allowed sea water down below. Everything was wet. I got nauseous. We abandoned the hot meals. We ate granola bars and drank water.

Then, around 22:00 (that’s 10:00 PM for you non-military time people) the motor dropped to idle speed, then resumed, then dropped to idle. I checked the vacuum pressure guage behind the primary fuel filter – 10 psi. In the red. Not good. After a hurried consulatation, we killed the motor and Dana and I began changing both fuel filters. In the dark. On a pitching, rolling boat. All while feeling slightly queasy.

I channeled my inner diesel mechanic. Dana found the right tools and ekpt the area clean. Walter got a jerry jug of diesel off the rail so we could fill the primary filter prior to installation. We filled the secondary filter with fuel using the manual lever on the lift pump. I didn’t now it at the time, but Nigel Clader’s book recommends this procedure so that the secondary filter is not filled with unfiltered diesel.

We muddled through the filter changes (I’ve never done it before. First time.) Yea, I know. Probably should have practiced this one time on the dock. Bleed the motor. Try for start. Cough, sputter, die. Bleed the motor again. Cough sputter die. Remember the bleed pump on the top of the Racor (thanks Pete.) Bleed the secondary again. Try for start. Sputter, sputter, run for 5 seconds, sputter die.

After the third attempt at a resart, I shut off all the electrics except the nav lights. It was beginning to look like we would have to sail the rest of the way to Key West with no way to recharge our batteries. Beverly was driving. I turned towards her, “Beverly, do you have faith in us?” “Yep.” She replied. “You’ll get it.” Back down to the motor. After soem consultation with Walter, we decided that we needed to change the filters again. The vacuum pressure guage was still showing 10 psi. Too high. Maybe something was clogging the fuel line? I tried the bleed procedure one more time before going for the spares. Cough, cough, sputter, vroom! We have engine start.

We monitored the vacuum pressure for ten minutes and ran the engine at various rpms. Success! We’d had our first major test of the crossing, and we passed. High fives and big grins all around.

Gulf Crossing Day 5 – Tuesday, Nov 11th

Position @ 06:10: 25 deg 48.87 min North, 86 deg 56.01 min West

We tried starboard tack for a few hours on Day 5. Starboard tack confirmed our suspicions that we were getting a significant (1 – 2 knots) southbound push from the Loop Current. the Loop Current is a clockwise current in the Gulf of Mexico that runs north up the middle of the Gulf, turns east, then south down the Florida coast and eventually merging with the Gulf Stream. Day 5 began a two day perios where we were faced with southbound current and winds from the east. The southbound current would push us closer and closer to Cuba, while the east wind impeded our progress towards Key West.

The forecast had the wind turning southeast by Thursday, which would allow us to sail east and make good speed towards Key West. But to take advantage, of the righty, we were going to have to go course right and sail at Cuba for a day or two. Neither Walter nor I could remember what the laws were for sailing close to Cuba. I think they are entitled to 12 miles off their coast, but nobody wanted to get that close. We also had a large explosive dump site on the chart that we wanted to avoid. So we motorsailed a bit to make easting and to set up for the righty.

A word about motor sailing: I am just as much a sailing snob as exists on the planet. I’ve raced my own boats for the last 6 years, and crewed aboard quite a few good programs. I do not like to motor. I consider it cheating. Motoring is noisy. It smells bad. It consumes precious diesel. Worst of all, it harshes my mellow. On my previous cruising boat, a Beneteau, we filled up the tank once in 2 years of ownership. We even sailed it in and out of the slip a few times.

But when you’ve been at sea for 5 days, the batteries need charging, your cook needs a flat boat, and morale is low because you’re not making any VMG towards your destination, motoring is tempting. All you have to do is twist a key, and the 50 HP Yanmar diesel starts doing its thing. Almost everyone who does a west to east Gulf crossing motors a bit because the predominant breeze is southeast.

Gulf Crossing Day 4 – Monday, Nov 10th

Position @ 08:20: 26 deg 44.35 min North, 88 deg 53.00 min West

The wind came up in the morning to 20+ and puffy. We found the reefed main in combination with the jib, or occasionally with jib and staysail, to be the best combination. The helm balanced better wih a reefed main (too much weather helm with the full main,) and if we cracked off a few degrees, we were getting sustained rides at 7.5 to 8 knots. At this point in the trip, we were VMGing straight at Key West.

We turned on the motor for a couple hours to charge the batteries and to flatten the boat so that Dana could cook us up a nice meal of pre-prepped Beef Stroganoff. Cooking was tough duty on this trip. It takes a strong stomach to stay down below and babysit the stove. And you must babysit the stove. It is gimballed, so theoretically, it should not throw a boiling pot of water all over the cabin, but some of the waves were testing the gimballed stove to the limit. So Dana stood down below with one hand on the pot handle, sweating from the heat, and stomach churning from the wave motion. The product of Dana’s determination (a hot meal at sea) was a blessing. We all had trouble keeping calories down. And the hot meals granted much needed energy.

I’ve heard people say that after a few days at sea, you fall into a rythym. That the watch schedule becomes second nature and you no longer feel sleepy. Well it never happened to me. I was cranky and lethargic virtually the entire trip. If I wasn’t sailing the boat, I was navigating or checking weather. In my off watch time I was sleeping or fixing stuff or discussing our next move with Walter. Beverly said it best when she declared, “Everyone should lay down for two hours immediately after getting off watch.” If you stayed up socializing or troubleshooting or listening to music, you were setting yourself up for crash later in the day.

Gulf Crossing Day 3 – Sunday, Nov 9th

Position @ 0600: 27 deg 28.15 min North, 91 deg 9.22 min West

We had light breeze from the east northeast on Day 3. Our XM weather report had northeast breeze to the east of us, and east breeze to the south of us. When you want to go east on a sailboat, east breeze is bad. So we beat into the wind on on port tack, trying to get far enough east to take advantage of the northeast breeze. We didn’t know it at the time, but we would be beating for the next four days.

Everyone pretty much recovered from being queasy, and the calm seas allowed us to cook nice meals and get the boat cleaned up. Spirits were high. We were all still talking.

The trip would not be complete without a fish story. Walter dropped a squid shaped lure in the water around 4:30 pm. 2 minutes later we heard the distinctive zhzhzhzhzhzhzhz of a spinning reel and watched as a fish drained about 100 feet of line off the reel in a few seconds. Sam later revealed he had seen a fin aproaching the lure. After Walter adjusted the drag on the reel and did his best to set the hook, we watched a 6 foot marlin do a movie perfect tail walk across the water for 30 feet or more. After a few more minutes of struggling, the marlin shook the hook loose and we never saw him again. We think maybe the marlin was following the boat and got interested in the lure just as soon as Walter dropped it in the water.

The marlin was the first and last fish we saw the entire trip, even though Walter trailed the lure on several other occasions.

We were still seeing rigs on day 3. One of the consequences of our easterly course was that we would have to dodge rigs until we got south of New Orleans. About 150 miles south of New Orleans, the water depth goes from 4000 feet to 7000 feet. 7000 feet is pushing it for Gulf Coast drilling rigs, we only saw a few rigs after the water depth changed.

we never saw much bioluminescence. Just a few feet on the transom. We’ve seen more bioluminescence in Galveston Bay.

The stars on the other hand… I’ve read plenty about the stars offshore. But I was not prepared for this. There are literally 10 times as many stars in the sky as what you can see from near Houston. Too many to count. Clouds of stars. They light up the sky. And the meteors. Freaky. At one point, Walter laid back in the cockpit and started counting shooting stars. He lost count after about 30 seconds. And you can actually see satellites. Especially near sunrise on a dark night. The satellites reflect the light from the rising sun. They track across the entire night sky in about 20 seconds.

Gulf Crossing Day 2 – Saturday, Nov 8th

Position @ 0700: 27 deg, 54.94 min North, 93 deg, 3.4s min West

When you approach large platform in the Gulf of Mexico at night, it does not appear as a single white light on the horizon. It appears as an amber glow, almost 10 miles away. Then it gets bigger. And bigger. If you pass within a mile, the platform looks like a small city. We took to calling the platforms Super Walmarts and DiscoTechs. Beverly’s log entry for evening reads, “What a night! Passed 2 Walmart Super Centers and 3 Discos. Temp is just right for a light jacket. No other boat traffic. Waves 2-3 feet mostly. Few bigger at times. Wind is a little shifty.”

When you approach a small unlit platform on the Gulf of Mexico at night, the platform never does appear. At all. You don’t know you’re close until you notice a curious absence of stars off the port bow. Then you panic. We were most worried about unlit platforms.

Oh. And take a close look at prohibited areas on the chart. We sailed right through a prohibited area Saturday morning. The note on the chart said that we need to refer to our coast pilot to see why the area is prohibited. The same coast pilot that I failed to acquire  prior to the trip. Walter – if you’re reading this, please enlighten us as to the nature of the prohibition.

We sailed most of day 2 on a tight reach to the east-south-east, trying to gain easting prior to the wind shifting right. The wind died a bit, late in the afternoon. We set the chute (more to say we did it, rather than to make any real progress.) After 30 minutes or so of ghosting along, we motored most of the night.

I recovered from my sea sickness enough to eat a double helping of gumbo.

Regarding motoring: I am something of a sailing snob. Our boat has only a 47 gallon fuel tank, so on a 5+ day gulf crossing, we need to sail most of the time. Our idea was to keep a 10 gallon reserve for manuevering near Key West, and in case our fuel consumption calculations were not accurate. Our intention was to motor only a few hours a day to charge the batteries. But drifting around after only 36 hours at sea seemed counter productive to morale, so we motored a fair bit. In retrospect, we probably should have been quicker to jam on the throttle. Because we were unable to keep up with the slow moving cold front,  we were confronted with east winds for next few days.

Gulf Crossing Day 1 – Friday Nov 7th

Position @ 0700:  29 deg, 33.31 min North, 95 deg, 0.12 min W

We left Kemah Boardwalk Marina on Friday, Nov 7th, at 6:45 AM. Janet and Vincent came down to see us off. We were able to sail to Galveston in about three hours on 15-20 knots of breeze from the northeast. We left the jetties under reefed main, staysail and full jib. Chris K flew over and took a few pictures from his airplane. If you’ve never had a friend fly his airplane over your sailboat at about 300 feet, you should know it is pretty cool. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.

Sam and I started feeling sick almost immediately, Dana, Beverly, and Walter were queasy but did much better. They bet on whether Sam or I would puke first. I did the honors later that day. Then again that night. But felt better as the trip wore on. Sam was lethargic and pukey for the first few days, but then recovered and was himself again.

Waves were only 2-3 feet for the first 24 hours, long rollers. We creamed along at 7 knots on a tight reach and talked about how cool it would be to get to Key West in 5 days.

The first emergency occurred early that evening when the masthead light started blinking on and off. After about an hour, Walter and I were able to trace the problem to a loose connection behind the nav station. But the process came with a price; I sold Buick’s for the next half hour.

My racing friends already know this, but let me splain a little something to those of you that think sailing a small boat across the gulf is beautiful and romantic. It is not romantic. It is really uncomfortable. A small boat pitches and rolls. And when you start feeling queasy, you become lethargic. You take Dramamine to alleviate the sea-sickness, and that makes you even more lethargic. You sleep in short spurts, if at all. At one point in the trip we entered the edge of the Gulf Stream. There is no sleeping in the Stream when wind runs against current. It is like trying to sleep on a roller coaster.

Mom, do not read the rest of this paragraph: Midway through the trip I was taking a Dramamine/Vivarin cocktail. It worked. But it was probably not healthy.

When you are living on a roller coaster, It takes crazy amounts of energy to do small things. Like, for instance, change your underwear. Some days you just don’t have the energy. And no one wants to go below because you get a little nauseous when you go below. So even if you can summon the energy to go below and change your underwear, 3 people start asking you to get stuff. “Hey dude, can you grab me a water?” or “Have you seen my sunglasses?” or “Please make sure the reefer is turned off.” So when you get done you are exhausted and you feel like puking. And you vow not to go down below for at least another 2 hours.

We did a lot of things right on this trip. Beverly and Walter prepped meals in advance. We had gumbo, stroganoff, or lasagna most nights. We brought plenty of water; about a gallon per person per day. Our watch schedule (four hours on and four hours off) worked pretty well. We brought people along (Beverly and Walter) that could sail, and that we could get along with in stressful situations (more on that later.) We had plenty of spare parts for the motor (lots more on that later.) Our battery system was sufficient for our needs. We splurged on the XM weather system. We started the trip behind a cold front and got two days of good sailing done immediately, east-south-east towards Key West.

And then we did a few things wrong. We underestimated the effects of the Gulf Loop Current. We didn’t assign sleeping quarters until about half way through the trip. We didn’t have a good place to put all our gear. So lots of miscellaneous gear wound up drifting around the cabin sole or crammed up under the dodger. At one point in the trip, I was allocating a half hour before dark just to find all my gear. Very few things suck more than floundering around in the dark on a pitching, rolling boat, looking for your safety harness, all while trying to be quiet so as not to wake up the off watch, and neglecting to use a white light because it will ruin your night vision.

We’re Here

We arrived in Key West yesterday, Nov 14th, at 2:01 PM. Total travel time was 7 days, 7 hours, and 16 minutes. Not the fastest crossing. But complete, nevertheless.

Curently recuperating on Duval Street. Running low on rum.

More posts  to follow.