Boat Projects – Page 8 – Have Wind Will Travel

The Whole World … and Only Carrabelle’s Got It

November 25, 2014November 24, 2014anniedike

May 7, 2014:

If we were trying to avoid an aerial bomb strike, you would think coming in under nightfall, might be a good idea. But, I’ve said it several time before and don’t mind repeating it — we do not like to come into a pass at night, and we try to avoid it on every occasion. Unfortunately, with the absolute lack of wind and continued motoring throughout the night, we were slated to make it to the East Pass into Apalachicola Bay a little earlier than we had intended – around 4:00 a.m.

Not yet daylight. So, we bobbed around in the Gulf for about an hour to allow the sun to rise, so we could safely see all of the markers and make it into the Bay.

There she comes! And, see?? With the sun, we can SEE the markers!

We could see land, too! We had left Venice around 10:00 a.m. two days prior and had made it safely once again across the Gulf of Mexico. No small feat.

It was unfortunate that we’d had to motor most of the way. 36 out of the approximate 43 hours were spent with our engine churning away under the cabin. Ironically, that’s about the exact same way we made the Gulf crossing the last time from Clearwater to Carrabelle. An approximate 36-hour engine run, and the heroic hacking-off of the dinghy mid-Gulf. Like I said — crossing the Gulf without issue — no small feat. But, this time we were determined not to the let the 36-hour motor-crossing get the best of our old Westerbeke. If you recall, the year prior, the daunting motor across the Gulf of Mexico had unexpectedly drained our engine of her last drop of transmission fluid and she locked up the next day as we were trying to motor out of the Carrabelle River … the tight, narrow, obstacle-lined river. Fine time to lose engine power. We vowed this time once we got her docked safe and secure in Carrabelle, the first part of that boat that was going to get some good ole TLC was the engine! That is, of course, after the crew got some sleep.

We made it into the river just fine this time during the day. It was nostalgic for me to come back in and see it now, as a somewhat experienced sailor, and remember how I had viewed it then during that first Gulf Crossing and my very first passage on a sailboat, period. I realized how oblivious I had been the year before to everything that was going on. Markers, depth, wind, current. Not that I was sitting around painting my nails or anything, I had spent a good part of that trip taking care of our overtly sea-sick Second Mate, helping Phillip to the best of my ability and cooking and cleaning, but I didn’t really have much involvement in the actual sailing. Well, this time I did. It was Phillip and I. That was it. And, we were coming in to dock once again at the Moorings Marina.

I knew this time, as well, from our first entry into the Carrabelle River, that you have to stay to the right of the river. And, by right, I mean waaaayy over to the right, almost hugging the docks on the starboard side. Last time, we had come in under nightfall and run aground just after the bend in the river. Right … about … here:

I know. The Carrabelle River had not been good to us last time. We were hoping for some better River karma this time around.

And, thankfully, the River welcomed us with open arms.

We made it in around 9:00 a.m. stayed to the RIGHT of the river and clear of the bottom, fueled up, docked up and went immediately to sleep. We’d been two days at sea, on two-hour night shifts two nights in a row, had survived multiple encounters with creepy Gulf alien vessels and an aerial bomb strike. Needless to say, we were tired!

But, the minute we woke, our first order of business was the engine. That run across the Gulf had certainly burned up a good bit of her precious black gold. Our faithful Westerbeke got a complete oil drain and change that day, which, thanks to the nifty hand-pump canister we picked up from the Back Door Marine Supply Guy in St. Pete, we were able to do easily and cleanly on the boat.

Our previous owner, Jack, also converted the old horizontal oil filter mount to a vertical one to avoid the messy oil dump into the bilge when the filter is removed.

Now ours spins in vertically and sits upright, making the entire process easier and cleaner.

Thanks Jack!

We also checked and topped off all of the other fluids, the transmission fluid – of course! – we check that now before every crank, and the coolant. It felt good to give the Westerbeke some love after she’d carried us all the way to Carrabelle, yet again. We also gave the boat a good scrub-down from bow to stern. While we had motored most of the way across the Gulf, the half-a-day we’d spent trying to get out in the Gulf initially in 4-6 foot, head-on waves had laid a pretty thick coat of salt on the boat. You could see and feel salt everywhere – on the deck, the lifelines, the stanchions. It was like Plaintiff’s Rest, on the rocks. We scrubbed every inch and polished her up, head to toe.

After tending to the boat, we then turned our attention to the crew. It was time for a feeding. We showered up and hit the town. Yes, the hustling, bustling big city of Carrabelle! We knew, from the multiple weekend trips we had made to Carrabelle last year when our boat spent six weeks in the River having a new transmission put in, that the happening spot in Carrabelle was Fathom’s.

Or, we were at least partial to it. Our mechanic, Eric’s, family owned the bar/restaurant and we had stopped there for some incredible fresh oysters and beer before heading out last time to make the trip from Carrabelle home to Pensacola.

Can’t believe I said “I’m not really an oyster person” in that post … The Keys have changed me!

Fathom’s has a great custom-built boat-bar and the perfect outdoor deck seating right on the waterfront.

Last time we were there, we could see our boat right across the way!

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? No, you haven’t.

And, we had occasionally heard some great live music streaming across the River from Fathom’s when we were there, working on the boat. We knew the next time we made it back to Carrabelle on our boat, we wanted to spend at least one evening eating our fill of fresh oysters and catching the live band at Fathom’s. We figured it would play out very much like a scene at Pirate’s Cove – a lot of local riff raff providing some high quality, free entertainment.

The Riff Raff cast from the Cove – November, 2013.

Since Fathom’s was on the agenda for the evening, we popped into the first restaurant we came across on our Carrabelle outing – The Fisherman’s Wife – for lunch. A fitting name for your typical quaint country restaurant. It reminded me of the little diner my grandma (Big Mom) used to take us to on Sundays – Doris’s Diner. The kind of place that keeps heaping condiment baskets on the table, complete with a sticky syrup dispenser, because they always seem to serve pancakes, and the waitresses can pull pens out of their poofy Peg Bundy hair like magic to take your order on a flip pad. I felt right at home! And, the Fisherman’s Wife did not disappoint. They served us up some incredible onion rings, a heaping salad and sandwich combo for lunch.

We walked lunch off down the main strip and found some pretty interesting highlights along the way. Like this little gem – the Carrabelle Junction!

An old fifties-style ice cream shop chock full of antique toys, trinkets and signage.

I love stuff like that. You’re always bound to see an old toy you used to play with sitting on the shelf and the memories flood you.

This one reminded me of the old Gumby & Pokey figurines I used to play with. You know, back when toys didn’t need any bells or whistles or lithium batteries.

Hours of entertainment …

Which is exactly what we found poking (and gumbing!) our way along the downtown Carrabelle strip. It doesn’t take much for us, though. We seem to find just about the same level of entertainment in tiny little rustic towns like Carrabelle and Apalachicola as we do New York City. It’s all in your level of expectation and your openness to truly explore new places – the quaint or the common. As fate would have it, we found something in Carrabelle that you can’t find anywhere else in the world. The world!? Yes, the world. Without Googling, do any of you faithful followers know what it is?

Don’t Worry … We Can Pump Gallons Out at a Time

October 15, 2014October 15, 2014anniedike

April 30. 2014:

So, we’d done our homework. We knew we had a Lasdrop stuffing box and that it wasn’t sup-POSED to drip. We also knew the guys at Gasparilla Marina would be sending a mechanic back out to our boat early the next morning to follow-up on our leaking stuffing box so we grabbed a bite at the Waterside Grill — buffalo shrimp, grilled grouper (plate and sandwich) —

enjoyed a sliver of sunset over the marina,

and crashed hard on the boat. We woke the next morning, though, to excessive buzzing, dinging and chirping of our phones. It seemed the masses were trying to reach us. After ignoring the first few, we finally lulled ourselves awake to see what all the buzz (no pun intended) was about. And, that’s when we got the terrible news. Our home port of Pensacola had endured 20 inches of rain in 24 hours. There was extreme flooding with inadequate drainage. Many homes were flooded, cars submerged, roadways engulfed. It was unreal.

ABC News – Powerful Floods Tear Through Pensacola

We started making frantic calls – checking on friends, family, the office, the condo, other boat owners. It was a mess. And, it was so ironic that everyone had been calling often checking on us as we were out making passages, crossing the Gulf of Mexico, putting ourselves in the path of potential storms and yet home is where she decided to strike, while we were tucked safely in a marina in Gasparilla. We felt a slight tinge of guilt that we were sound and secure while others back home were dealing with such damage and loss. We weren’t even sure yet about your own place or our cars. We just did what we could remotely and set our sights on making way back to Pensacola.

We got on the phone with the guys at the marina and they sent out a sprite little stick of a man (stiff breeze would have blown him over) to come check out our stuffing box. But, he was sharp, friendly and super-knowledgeable. You could tell he’d been working on boats for a long time. That’s just the kind of guy I want sticking his hands up under our transmission. Guy cracked me up though. Just before he bent over into the engine room, he snapped back up real quick and said “Better empty my pockets first. Don’t want these dumping into your bilge.” And, then he proceeded to set not one, but two packs of cigarettes and a lighter on the nav station. I’ll bet that’s a one-day supply for this guy.

He maneuvered some things around, wiggled it – just a little bit! – and said he was able to create a decent seal. One he thought would hold well enough to get us home. You mean, no haul-out?!? We were certainly relieved to hear that news. But, we were certainly going to test it to be sure. We decided to crank her up and go for a test run. Much like the crossing we did last year when we were catching and dumping transmission fluid back into the transmission, I found myself again, hunkered down next to that noisy engine, watching a drip.

But, that was fine with me. I’d much rather have an engine that’s running but requires a little drip supervision than one that’s not. So, I busted out the all-important boat tool used last time to capture the name on the stuffing box – my PHONE – and did my best to capture the drip so we could accurately time it and see what we were dealing with. I caught three drips in 30 seconds, meaning roughly 10 seconds in between each drip. In the video, I move the flashlight beam to indicate each drip. Riveting footage I assure you …

After watching her under various amounts of load, we determined the box was dripping roughly every 5-7 seconds at idle, every 10 seconds under moderate load and every 20-25 seconds under heavy load. The more load that was on her it seemed the more pressure on the box which created a better seal. So, on average, one drip every 10 seconds when the engine was running? We figured that was probably common, if not less, than the intended drip on most stuffing boxes designed to drip. Certainly something our bilge could handle, assuming we found ourselves having to motor a lot on the way home. If we were able to sail most of the way – no issue at all. So, we decided to go for it. We were going to make our way back home with the very minor dripping-dripless and address it once we got back.

As usual, we had been discussing the stuffing box ordeal with some fellow cruisers and our broker-turned-boat buddy, Kevin, offered some sage advice. While our electric bilge pump was working fine (in fact, its frequent automatic activation is what helped us uncover the leaking stuffing box in the first place), Kevin suggested it might be a good idea to check our manual bilge pump(s) before leaving the dock. Just … in … case. Smart man, that Kevin.

While Phillip always tells me the most effective “bilge pump” you can have is a motivated sailor and a bucket,

we thought it best to follow Kevin’s advice and check on our other mechanical bilge pumps. The manual pump in the cockpit,

and, the almighty Thirsty Mate!

It seemed the Thirsty Mate was working fine.

That thing sucks. In the best way possible. And, I rigged up a hook on the end of it that attached to the drain in the sink in the head so it could be used single-handedly by a crew member to pump water out of the bilge and into the sink to drain out (in case Captain’s holding the helm, and I’m doing the sucking – a likely scenario if we found ourselves really taking on water). So, Thirsty Mate – check!

Unfortunately, we didn’t have the same luck with the bilge pump in the cockpit … The suction was incredibly low and we didn’t think any water was actually making it out of the boat.

After some troubleshooting, we were sure there was some crack or poor connection in the hose from the pump at the helm to the bilge that was hindering suction (like a straw with a hole in it). We decided to get a new hose for it. Not that we planned to re-run the hose under the cabin floor and back up to the cockpit before we left, just so we would have a secure hose that we could connect to the pump in the cockpit and hand-feed down to the bilge just in case we had a sufficient leak, and the electric bilge pump went out, and we couldn’t sufficiently drain it with the Thirsty Mate. A lot of prerequisites there, which sufficiently met our concerns for getting back under way. Some friends, however, didn’t seem to have the same reaction. I explained our situation via text to a few non-boating gal pals of mine, advising them we did have a small leak, but we were able to pump “gallons out at a time,” so we felt it was fine to head back out into the Gulf, and THIS was the reaction I received:

GALLONS?!?

She mentioned experiencing something similar to “heart palpatations” at my use of the phrase “gallons at a time.” Where’s your sense of adventure? I’m kidding. I have some really great friends who worry a great deal over me, but in secret, they live vicariously and they know they love it! ; )

We felt good about it. One drip every 10 seconds, no haul-out and no costly mid-trip engine repair. Yee-haw! Let’s go! The only downside was that the marina said they couldn’t get the manual bilge hose we needed until the next day, so it was one more day in Gasparilla, which was fine with us. I will say, the marina there is pretty impressive. Hundreds of boats just stacked up on shelves like toys. The scale of it kind of blows your mind.

Those are all 18-20 foot center consoles sitting on the shelves like dolls. And, they have this HUGE forklift that plucks them out of the water like they only weigh ten pounds.

It’s so cool I filmed it for you!

And, you’ll find it highly entertaining to know that I forgot about the whole “Just Cause” conclusion in the video until I was just now re-watching it, thinking the whole time … Oooh, ooh, I know what I can say as the caption for this video — “Why did I film this … ” I’m so good I beat mySELF to the punch sometimes!

So, after all of the pumps were checked and our hose was ordered, we decided to clean up and hit the town! Or … the … Waterside Grill at the marina. But, hey, that counts. Look out Gasparilla!

It’s Happy Hour on the Plaintiff’s Rest!

Peel-and-eat shrimp, a fully-dressed hot dog and live music out on the deck. It doesn’t take much to suit us. After a few glasses of wine and a hearty dinner, we sauntered around the marina in high spirits,

entertaining ourselves with inSPIRed but obvious observations:

“How many you see there, Cap’n?”

In all, we were thrilled to have received good news about our stuffing box situation and excited to start making way the next day – one drip at a time. Look out Venice! We’re taking this inspired-but-obvious act on the road!

Good to the …

October 8, 2014October 13, 2014anniedike

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re probably right, but be patient. We’ll get there.

April 29, 2014:

While the run-aground in the ICW was certainly not fun (and quite embarrassing on my part) it, thankfully, was a very minor graze with a soft bottom and one that we were able to ease off of fairly quickly. And, while I know I deserved some of the scoldings and finger-shaking I received as a result, I’m not sure I agree that it rose to the level of demotion from my position as First Mate as one of our followers opted for (you know who you are!). But, I tell these tales so that hopefully some of you fellow cruisers can learn from our mistakes and, on the rare occasion, brilliant discoveries! It’s all about getting out there and doing it – mistakes included. But, assuming the demotion was in order, we’ll see if this little diddy can salvage me. I call it – Redemption of the Selfie!

So, still maintaining our slight trickle from the stuffing box around the propeller shaft, we motored our way into the Gasparilla Marina so we could have our leak inspected. And, you would think, by now, with all of the docking debacles we’ve encountered, we would be pros at docking. Well, we are better, but I’ll tell you, I’m just not sure anyone can actually call themselves a “pro.” You just never know what kind of conditions you’re going to face with the wind, current, pilings, finger docks, etc. There’s always some element to contend with that can turn your perfect entry into a … well, a cluster. As we made our way into the marina and found the slip they had assigned us to, we knew we were going to be contending with some pilings.

I even called the dockmaster to see if he could send some guys over to help catch some lines (Captain decided not to be too embarrassed about it, knowing my knee was not 100%) but, unfortunately, they were all on the other side of the slips at the fuel dock (a good 10-minute walk from our slip on the other side). So, it was the Captain and I, easing in … While we would have loved for it to have played out something like this.

Voila!

Sadly, that’s NOT what happened. After debating it a few times and exchanging a couple of confirmations (“midship first? stern second? then bow?”), we went for it. The wind was coming across our starboard deck, so we had decided, as we were easing in, to put a loose midship line around the second piling to keep us from hitting the dock on the port side. A grand idea at first …

But how loose is is too loose? Or, more importantly, not loose enough? You’ve got to cleat to the boat it at some point or it has no purpose, so I lassoed the pole, pulled out about 8-10 feet, cleated it and hobbled back to the stern to try and catch the piling on the starboard stern. Unfortunately, though, it seems my “8-10 feet” was not enough and as Phillip eased forward, the midship line pulled taut, causing the boat to … well …

Like I said, a total cluster. Thankfully, we were able to push off the port piling, back out and try again. This time we decided to forego the midship line, catch the stern on the way in and then run up and tie off the bow. Well, run, hobble, crawl – however I could make it happen. So, we tried again.

This time we caught the stern fine and start to ease forward. But, do recall that other element I mentioned. Ahhh, yes, a sailor’s best friend (or worst enemy at times). THE WIND!

The wind was pushing our boat over to the dock on the port side and we had yet to tie a line to hold the bow off. Without a friendly set of hands on the dock to catch a line, I tossed a pile of the starboard bowline onto the deck hoping it would stay put until I could get off to tie it.

Thankfully, the pile landed solidly on the dock, and I took off to catch it!

“Here I come to save the DAAAYYY!” Yes, that is what I sang to myself as I leaped.

Luckily the pile remained, I was able to grab it, tie it off and keep our boat off of the dock on the port side.

Whew! Have I mentioned before how much I hate docking – period – but particularly at new places??

With the boat secure, the Captain set to contacting the guys at the marina to have them come out and look at our leaking stuffing box. A young guy came out pretty quickly, jumped down beneath the engine and started pulling and wiggling the stuffing box, as Phillip and I kind of stood there, hovering, exchanging worried looks.

“You see something?”

He came up slowly, with a sullen look on his face, wiping the oil from his hands tediously, without saying a word. I took this as a bad sign. Like a doctor who’s about to dish out some really bad news. He told us he tried to tighten the hose clamps but he thought the seals were going to have to be replaced. Which meant … a haul-out. A haul-out?? Mid-TRIP?!? And, they’re so freaking expensive, too. The haul-out alone can sometimes cost 3/4 of a grand, not to mention the labor and expenses that will follow repairing the seals. And, anytime you haul-out, you always want to try and get as many “haul-out” requisite projects taken care of then to get the most of the hard-earned dollars you paid just to see your dripping keel, but that means more repairs, more time, more labor, MO MONEY. That was some pretty bad news. But, Guy No. 1 did say he wasn’t 100% sure and he was going to have his supervisor come out – the head mechanic at the marina – to have a look as well. A second opinion? Uhhh, yes please! Send in Guy No. 2!

It was nearing the end of the day, so we decided to get cleaned up while we waited for the head honcho, John, to come out and check out our stuffing box. The shower facilities at the marina were really nice, and they had a great Captain’s Lounge with TV, AC, books, wifi, coffee, etc. We also saw they had a little restaurant, the Waterside Grill, which we decided would suit us fine for dinner. After a long day-and-a-half of passage, we were ready to shell out a few dollars to kick back and let the friendly folks of Gasparilla bring us platters of fish & shrimp! When I hit the showers, a ‘body check’ confirmed that, a day-and-a-half since “the fall,” and the arm and knee were still showing signs of a collision.

I know, pretty right? The knee still had a little pain when bending and a funny ‘pop’ upon extension but, otherwise, was functioning reasonably well. The arm was functioning fine but was swollen to about twice its normal size and pretty hard to the touch. Just weird … No broken bones, though, so no complaints here. I’ll take functioning-but-weird any day.

When I got back to the boat, the head mechanic, John, was just leaving. Thankfully, he left us with better news than Guy No. 1. John said he thought it might could be adjusted, maneuvered somehow to sufficiently slow the leak to allow us to get home. It would just depend on what kind of stuffing box it was. So, THAT was our homework assignment. We had to find out what kind of stuffing box we had on there. Guy No. 1 had told us previously he could barely see the label on it from underneath the propeller shaft, but he couldn’t get a good enough angle to read the whole name. We searched our bag of instruction manuals to see if there was one for the stuffing box. (As I have advised before – always keep every instruction manual for every piece of equipment you install on the boat – you never know when they might come in handy). Unfortunately, no dice. We couldn’t find any paperwork on our stuffing box. We had to lay eyes on the label. But, the label was on the bottom of the stuffing box, facing down and there was only about a 2-3 inch gap between the label and the hull.

We broke out the little mirror that we keep on the boat.

I call this a mechanic’s mirror. We use it to look underneath things we can’t get under, much like a mirror under a car.

Super handy piece of equipment to have on a boat. But, the problem was, this label was too far underneath the stuffing box for the mirror to allow a reflection. The last thing you could see before the face of the mirror was lost under the transmission was just the tip of the label. We needed a new plan, so I got to thinking … I don’t know if you did this as a kid, but we used to make and buy those little boxed-mirror gadgets that allowed you to look around corners or over walls?

Nifty! Thankfully, though, my brother’s hair didn’t look like that. Or this …

But, we were HUGE Inspector Gadget fans!

(Doo-bee-doo-bee-doop. Inspector Gadget! Doo-bee-doo-bee-doop. Bum, bum. Whoo hoo! I know you’re singing along! Click HERE to reminisce further).

And we all know Penny secretly rocked that show.

“I’ve got it Uncle Gadget!”

Okay, so I digress. But, I did get a little Gagety with it. I started thinking about those around-the-corner mirror devices and started looking around for another mirror. While two mirrors would have worked fine, the first thing that caught my eye was my phone and that’s when it came to me. The selfie app! Now, not only could I view the image via the mirror function on the phone (a.k.a., the “selfie app”) but this way I could capture it via photo to confirm, show to Phillip and keep for our records. I positioned the phone under the stuffing box, tilted just enough to provide a reflection on the mechanic’s mirror so I could see what the screen on the phone was capturing.

I took a few (dozen) missed and blurred shots, but I was getting closer.

There! See? You can almost see it there. A few minor adjustments, taps on the cell phone screen to auto-adjust and BAM!

I got it. Good to the … LASDROP! It was a Lasdrop stuffing box. Now that we had a name, we could get some dinner at the Waterside Grill, relax and check back in with John in the morning to see about a solution for our leak. See? Good selfie training CAN be an important skill to have on the boat! I know my fellow blogger Dani would agree. Redemption of the Selfie!!

On that note, let’s end on a selfie montage, shall we? Let this play in the background and enjoy … All Byyyyy Myyy-seee–heee-eelllf:

Bonnie the Bunny

July 9, 2014July 10, 2014anniedike

April 20, 2014:

Tomorrow was it. We were going to head out around daybreak to make our final passage south to the Keys. We were beyond excited. We spent the morning cleaning and readying the boat for the next day’s passage – re-tying the fuel cans we had filled the day before, re-checking the fluids we had topped off, taking out the trash. You know, real exciting boat stuff. We were planning to meet our buddy Johnny and his wife Cindy around mid-morning to make a mega run to the store for provisions. Cindy had driven down to spend the weekend with Johnny and had been nice enough to offer us boating bums a ride to the store before she left. Don’t mind if we do! Knowing we weren’t going to have to haul our supplies back pack-mule style, we made quite the luxurious list and even planned our attack from produce to paper products. We were going to get all Supermarket Sweep on them – matching sweatshirts and all.

Yeeeeahhh!

But, sadly … as ready as WE were to do some serious grocery shopping, it seems the rest of the world wasn’t ready for us. We found Ft. Myers tends to take their Easter pretty seriously. Every place was closed. Every … single … place. We drove by Publix. No. Target. Closed. Winn Dixie? Shut-down. I hate to say it, but we finally ended up at the all-American icon of convenience shopping. Mmmm-hmmmm. Wal-Mart. You can always count on old Wally World to be open. We each made our rounds and packed Cindy’s little car to the brim. And, of course – what do you always want to do after grocery shopping? EAT! After planning for and picking up everything we would need to cook and eat for the passage and the following week, all we could think about was food. We stopped at this little McGregor Cafe in Ft. Myers and scored pretty good.

A juicy Rueben sandwich and a lobster cake salad.

Yum! But, the best part was our waitress. Bonnie … the Bunny.

You see? As much as I love to write fiction – I really don’t have to make this stuff up.

Bonnie (“the Bunny”) pranced around the entire time sporting fuzzy purple bunny ears and offering up what she called her “Special Bunny Peeps Cake” to any poor customer who couldn’t turn her away. She even suffered it on the entire wait staff like office birthday cake.

When I walked through the dining area to go to the restroom, there were ten of them in there, at least, all picking with plastic forks at pieces of neon peep fluff on their styrofoam plates. They would stuff mouthfuls in their cheeks and give Bonnie an exaggerated “Mmmmm” smile-and-nod when she would walk by, telling them “It’s my special recipe! I make it every year!”

It was … hilarious.

After our big venture to all of the closed stores, we headed back to the boat and packed her up for the next day’s passage to the Keys. We still had some beautiful afternoon hours left, so I decided to bust out the old inflatable SUP and get to it.

See Annie pump.

Pump Annie pump!

Whew! I tell you. I love that my SUP is inflatable (so we can break it down and stow it down below) but she is a chore-and-a-half to blow up. By the time you’re done, the thought of paddling is exhausting. But, somehow I managed!

I tossed her in the water and set to it.

Go Annie go!

Ft. Myers had lots of residential inlets where the houses are all waterfront along the seawall and you can paddle around in each of them, checking out peoples’ boats, backyards, pools, houses, etc. I love paddling around nice waterfront homes. I like to imagine all the costly upkeep and maintenance they must require and bask in the contentment of living on a boat!

And, I was feeling pretty content … that is, until I returned to the boat and Phillip told me the engine wouldn’t crank. Say what? We’re leaving for the Keys tomorrow. Could you repeat that?

But, sadly, it was true. The engine wouldn’t fire – at least not on its own battery. Luckily, we have two different battery systems on our boat. One battery system is dedicated to starting the engine while the second bank (the house batteries) is much larger and equipped to run all the other systems on the boat. We also have a nifty device that allows us to combine the battery systems together if necessary by the simple flip of a switch. When we combined the circuit and pulled from the house batteries, the engine would crank, but she would not fire from the starting battery alone. Errgghh … What did I say about those big waterfront mansions being more trouble than they’re worth? Well, forget that. We had boat problems!

We traced the connections and wires from the alternator to the battery combiner (which regulates which set of batteries get charged) and found the inline fuses for the starting battery had blown.

This meant the starting battery was not getting a charge when the engine was running. This was good news because it was an easy fix. Replace the small fuses and we figured we would be in business. Then, all we needed to do was run the engine for a bit to be certain the starting battery was in fact charging.

We replaced the fuses, combined the batteries and cranked her up. Everything was running great. We had water coming out of the back and plenty of gas to give the boat a charge, so we let her purr. It was just about dusk, so we poured a couple of glasses of wine and headed topside to watch the sun set.

Ahhh … Isn’t she beautiful? We sipped from our glasses and drank in the pink horizon. Life was tranquil and serene. Everything was perfect … until the alarm went off. Yes, the ALARM. A high-pitched, shrill tea-kettle whistle rang out from the cockpit. Phillip and I jumped up, knocking over our deck chairs and glasses as we scrambled back to the helm as she shrieked angrily at us. It was the high-temp alarm. Picture a car steaming on the side of the road.

It meant our engine had overheated. What next?

We immediately shut her down so she could cool. But, we were stunned. What in the heck had happened? Our temp had been holding fine. Water had been spouting out the back. Then all of a sudden it overheated?? We didn’t know what to think. After she cooled a bit, we got back down in the engine room and started checking out the heat exchanger, making sure the seacock (that allows raw water to pull in to heat the engine) was open and working fine, basically just troubleshooting … again …

But, while we didn’t find any obvious issue with the cooling system on the engine, I did notice something on the battery combiner that we had missed before. There was a little green clip that plugged into the combiner that had apparently wiggled its way out of its slot. This little guy:

Who the heck knows when that happened – likely when we were beating our way into Charlotte Harbor during our last horrendous night in the Gulf – if I had to wager a guess. But, the good news is, we spotted it. An easy fix. Just push her back in. *Click* And THEN our engine battery would get a charge. I can’t stress enough how important it is to know your own boat. Tinker around on it, try to troubleshoot things yourself, try to fix things yourself (to the extent possible) and, basically, just piddle around with the systems. I, personally, like to sing this while I do and recommend you do too:

Phillip won’t admit it, but he secretly digs that tune!

It’s amazing what you’ll learn. Most of the systems on the boat are really simple if you just take the time to figure them out, and the confidence you’ll gain in handling everything on the boat yourself is easily worth it. So – take some advice from Julia Andrews and get to know her!

And, while I say that, as much “knowing” as were doing on our boat that evening, we were still totally stumped by the engine overheating. Phillip jumped in and checked the seacock through-hole on the hull of the boat to make sure there wasn’t some trash bag or something caught up in it.

Nothing. We let her cool completely down, checked the coolant levels and the seacock (again) and decided to re-crank and see what happened. We both sat in the cockpit watching the heat gage like a hawk.

Still sipping our wine, of course. I mean, we’re boat people, but we’re still cruisers …

Thankfully, though, she held at her standard operating temp of 180 degrees.

To this day, we really can’t tell you what happened. The most likely explanation is that something got temporarily sucked up against the through-hole under the boat and the engine could not pull water in to cool itself. Then when we shut off the engine, the suction stopped and whatever it was floated away. We suppose … That’s all we could do. Was suppose. But, it was getting late and, either because of, or despite, all our efforts, the boat was currently running great and was ready to get under way the next morning. So, we supposed ourselves right to bed to get some rest for the passage tomorrow. We were just a 24-hour run away from the Keys!

No Autographs Please!

July 4, 2014July 4, 2014anniedike

April 19, 2014:

I don’t know if I’ve ever said this before, but for those of you out there who think cruising is all cocktails and sunsets, I can assure you it’s not. Owning a boat is a lot of work. You may recall our “million mile march” through St. Pete to pick up a portable pump from the Back-Door Marine Supply Guy to change the engine oil. As the previous day in Ft. Myers had been devoted primarily to getting the dinghy to crank, the next bright and sunny day was committed to changing the oil in the diesel engine on the boat. Fun, fun!

It was definitely time to do it, though. With all of the motoring we had unfortunately had to do to “weather” the weather in the Gulf, we were well over our allotted 50 hours, so we set to it.

It certainly was a cleaner job, though, with our new, smaller plastic oil pump.

The oil dumped right in, and we were able to seal her off and plug the tubes nicely with Q-tips, so no mess!

We also checked the raw water strainer to make sure she wasn’t clogged.

Unfortunately, she came out looking like a love-child mix of Bob Marley and Medusa.

Yipes! It was definitely time to clean her out as well and we noticed a significant difference in the flow rate of the water exhaust on the stern after we did. Let’s just say she had a lot more “oomph” – I believe is the technical term.

We also checked the sacrificial zinc on the heat exchanger. He was almost toast!

Because the metals that are immersed in seawater in the heat exchanger create a battery, that also means they lead to corrosion. If you’re interested, read more HERE. And, this little guy is meant to take the brunt of that. He corrodes first (hence the term “sacrificial”) and then we replace him with a new soldier so the other, more important metals, don’t corrode at all. Or so the theory is.

That is one battered warrior! Thanks Zinc!

We also checked the fuel filter as well.

“Umm … sir, I definitely see some build-up here.” It was time to change that as well. Not much of an issue, but when we began to disassemble the housing for the secondary fuel filter, we ran into a slight issue.

The connector ring broke …

But, never fear! That’s why we carry back-ups! And back-ups for our back-ups! I got my little First Mate fingers back there and fixed her right up.

Good as new!

We then cranked her up to make sure everything was running just right, our engine was maintaining temp, water was flowing out of the back (this time with “oomph”) and that our oil level was right where it needed to be. All systems were a go, so we hopped off the mooring ball for a bit to head up to the fuel dock to fill up and dump our oil. The Diversified Yacht Facility there was huuuggee!

They had handfuls of 100-foot yachts stacked in there like toys. It was incredible. They were also very friendly and got us filled up (water and fuel), dumped out, scrubbed up and everything in between. We were ready for our next passage for sure.

We were thinking of heading out the next day, Sunday Funday!, to make the jump across the Gulf to Key West, but our buddy, Johnny, whom we were meeting up with in Ft. Myers, was going to wait to make the crossing on Monday, so we decided to suffer another day in Ft. Myers Beach – ain’t life tough …

The minute we got the boat back on the ball, we cleaned up, spruced up and made a right proper to-go drink for shore:

Phillip: “I’ll have an ‘Oh Shiiiit’ please. Heavy on the rum!”

Annie: “You got it Cap’n.”

We trolled around downtown checking out the local tiki bars and scenery.

And, the local wildlife as well …

I think this one may be extinct real soon …

Then the craziest thing happened. We were walking on up to Petey’s Upper Deck, above the Matanza’s Inn, when this guy on the dock hobbled humbly up to us and asked “Are you Annie, on the Plaintiff’s Rest?”

I mean … Total record-scratch moment. Errrruunnnhh (or however you spell a record scratch sound?).

“Excuse me?” I asked, thinking I surely had never seen this man before and didn’t know how he could possibly know me, or my boat …

“I’m friends with Bob,” he said. “McDonald. He got me hooked on your blog.”

Eek! A real live blog follower? An honest-to-goodness fan? And, he’d spotted me on his very own in Ft. Myers Beach?? The fame went instantly to my head.

Okay, I wasn’t that bad … hopefully … but I was certainly smiling from ear to ear. Here he is – Capt. Doug on the s/v Puffin!

He’d been “on the ball” in the Ft. Myers mooring field for about six months and has been following our blog for quite some time. He was a great guy – a lot of fun – and certainly living the right kind of salty life there in Ft. Myers Beach. Like many in the boating community seem to do, he offered to help us with anything if we needed it or provide us names of fellow mechanics, riggers, etc. if we needed any work done in the area. We had a big time chatting with him about ‘old blog times’ – the original Gulf Crossing and other debacles. He was great. Thanks Doug!

And, you’ll be happy to know I wasn’t too celebrity about it. I gave him an awesome autograph, which I’m sure he’ll hang right on top of this one:

See? Didn’t go to my head at all …

After the exciting celeb sighting, Phillip and I hit the deck! Petey’s Upper Deck for their famous Key Lime Coladas.

Mmmmmm …

Those things were awesome. And, totally calorie-free I was told. Or, was it calories don’t count at the beach? I can’t remember. Either way, they were incredible. All three of them!

We finally met up with our buddy Johnny Walker on the s/v Windwalker who was making the trip down to the Keys with his son, Jeremy. Say hey Johnny!

Johnny is an incredible diesel mechanic, a life-long boater and fellow die-hard cruiser. He’s also just a few months shy of 72 and still living on his boat and living out his dream. No matter what story we told (and I’ve got some really tall ones – hacking off our dinghy in the middle of the Gulf, fixing a transmission leak with a Dasani bottle and some duct tape … ) it didn’t matter, Johnny had heard it three times before and knew of someone who had done the same thing in 6-8 foot seas with one arm tied behind his back. The man was full of colorful tales. Oh, and spare parts as well. No matter what minute little part we may have noticed was having an issue on our boat, he had three of them and was happy to share.

See – here he is now: “Oh, I’ve got one of those. I’ll drop by your boat later and bring it to you.”

Johnny was a trip. Beyond generous and full of spunk. And, that’s his wife Cindy, a real salty survivor. She’s been through some serious times on the boat with that man. Her stories, and her perspective, rather, actually impressed me the most. She can remain calm through anything. That’s the kind of gal you need on a boat. She had drove down to spend the weekend with Johnny in Ft. Myers Beach during his trek to the Keys with his son, so she was just staying a day or two. (But, that meant she had a car! A real, live car, which also meant a full-fledged trip to the store for us the next day! You know how we love our provisions!).

We had a big, hearty time hanging out with Johnny and Cindy, scarfing up their great greasy pizza at Petey’s. (Which I was also told did not have any calories). We continued to tell tall tales until nightfall, then we dinghied on back to the boat and crashed hard, yet again. This beach living is rough!

The Car Won’t Start

June 24, 2014June 24, 2014anniedike

April 17-18, 2014 (Keys Log – Day 16):

I’m happy to say we survived the epic flooding in Ft. Myers. I’ve never seen rain come so fast and so hard. But, as fast as it came, it went.

The sun came back out and we found ourselves high and dry, safe and secure. Which meant it was time to do what we normally do right when drop anchor (or snag a mooring ball). That’s right … make a cocktail! Or three.

Now, typically I would have snapped a few shots of us mixing our drinks, toasting the sunset, smiling like happy sailors, but if you recall, after our horrendous night in the Gulf, the harrowing entry into Charlotte Harbor under nightfall and the approximate one hour nap we had that morning, we … were … beat. That silly little selfie above is all the photo-taking I could muster for the evening. It was the last shot of the day.

And, I believe it was somewhere in the middle of his second rum drink that the Captain started to nod off and dip his head into his glass. I can’t blame him. The man had held the helm of our beloved boat for about 12 hours straight. And, then motored us all the way over to Ft. Myers in the same day. It was around 6:00 p.m. and we were both fading fast. Phillip kicked back on the settee to “close his eyes for just a minute” while I threw some dinner together – one of our go-to’s on the boat – chicken tiki masala with naan. The funny thing was, though, I was banging around, clanging pots, opening cabinets, shutting doors, doing a great number of things any one of which would usually have the Captain sitting upright, looking around, but none of it phased him. He was OUT. Gone, done for. Knee deep in REMs. I roused him for supper and watched with a wicked grin as his head bobbed and wobbled above his plate and he shoved clumsy mouthfuls in, barely taking the time to chew before swallowing. His entire plate was gone in under six minutes, and he was back in a deep sleep within the seventh. I have to admit it was pretty entertaining. I have never seen him that tired. We both fell asleep around 6:45 p.m. and slept till about 8 the next morning. It was glorious. Now, did we wake to a sticky, caked-up tiki masala mess? Sure! But it was totally worth it.

We woke slowly, took our time sipping coffee and reading and just absorbing the morning. One thing we had noticed intermittently during the night – although it didn’t really phase us, was that our mooring ball kept going underneath the boat and scraping loudly from one side of the hull to the other.

The balls at the Ft. Myers mooring field were rather large and ours made a raucous sound every time it trudged its way from one side of the boat to the other. Now, usually the boat pulls away from the mooring ball because of the wind, so the ball going under the boat is normally not an issue, but the current in the mooring field was strong and it kept pushing our boat up over the ball. The Plaintiff’s Rest was literally on the ball. But, as we started to look around at the other boats in the field, we noticed that unlike us, they had connected the line on the ball directly to their bow cleat. We had used our dock line to make a bridal which we connected to the ball, but that certainly gave the mooring ball a lot more room to play with. So, we decided to take a cue from our fellow moorers, nix the dock line and just tie the ball directly up to our boat.

Then the ball was too close to the the bow to make its way up under the hull. Problem solved. On to the next!

While we didn’t anticipate one, as it seems is always the case in boating, we certainly got one. We had big plans that morning to dinghy to shore, go exploring, get some lunch, check out the facilities. You know – get the lay of our new “land.” But, unfortunately, when we decided to leave the “house” that morning, the “car” wouldn’t start.

I mean, that’s pretty much what your dinghy is when you’re living on a boat. It’s your car. Your means to shore. While we probably could have rowed to the dinghy dock, it was about 200 yards away, against the current. And, we were planning to stay there in the mooring field for a few days. Sure would be nice to have a car …

So, Phillip set to it. He cranked and pulled and yanked and cursed that thing – for half an hour at least. I laughed and took pictures.

He hee hee.

Then we decided to really troubleshoot it. When Phillip looked in the oil window, he could see the oil in the outboard was murky, which meant it had probably taken on water, somehow, during our horrendous night. To this day we are still not sure exactly how that happened. But, c’est la vie. So, he changed the oil in it.

And, boy was he right. It was murky. The oil almost looked like chocolate milk.

He ended up changing it three times before it began to look like oil again.

Then he tried to crank her again. She would sputter and fire and run for a bit and then die. So, he would crank her again. She would sputter and fire and run for a bit and then die. So, he would crank her again, and so on. What was I doing, you ask? Laughing and taking video of course!

I mean, it wasn’t really comical, but what else are you going to do? The great thing was, all of our boat neighbors started to get in on the action. They had been watching Phillip jack around with that engine for about two hours now, listening to her crank and die, crank and die, crank and die. Several of them would throw their arms up and cheer when she cranked and heckle her when she died. “Booo!!” It was better than football. And, when the outboard would crank and Phillip would get going a bit, other boaters would circle the wagons and check on him to make sure he didn’t get stranded.

Boater: “You got her running there, partner?”

Phillip: “I believe so, but don’t go too far. Thanks.”

We even had some folks swing by and drop off what they called their “magic juice” – some special lube they always spray on their outboard when she gives them fits. Because everyone’s outboard gives them fits. It should just say in the manual: SOMETIMES SHE WILL CRANK, SOMETIMES SHE WILL NOT, AND THERE’S NO REASON WHY. That would at least squander the hope that she’s going to run like she’s supposed to.

But, the Captain was persistent. He stuck with it and finally got her purring. Then he started zipping around all over the field, lavishing in the cheers and hollers building around him – the roar of the crowd! Haaahhhahaaa. It was hilarious.

We packed that puppy up while she was running and made our way to shore! We stuck a little thank-you note to the “magic juice” can and dropped it off on our neighbors’ boat.

Finally the car had cranked and we were on our way. To Ft. Myers Beach baby! It’s time for a margarita!

The Back Door Marine Supply Guy

June 10, 2014anniedike

April 15, 2014:

After our leisurely stroll through the Dali museum in downtown St. Pete that morning, it was time to focus on some boat chores that afternoon. We were in the market for a portable oil change kit. While we certainly hadn’t planned on motoring as much as we had already on the trip, you know our philosophy on plans. With the various mishaps we had experienced with the sails (losing the main halyard and the failure of our Jenny swivel shackle – both of which we had decided were the product of operator error – poor boat!), we’d had to motor more on the trip than we would have liked. But, that’s what she’s got a motor for I guess, so …

The manual for our engine recommends changing the oil every 50 hours. We knew we were going to cross that threshold soon, so we needed to have a pump and canister ready when the time came. While we have an oil change kit at home, that thing is a bulky, messy, metal beast that looks like an offspring of the Tin Man:

Face it Man, he’s definitely yours.

We keep it in a big rubbermaid container because everything in it is covered in thick, sticky oil. It just wasn’t an item we really wanted to pack on the boat for a month-long trip to the Keys. But, we now found ourselves in need. Phillip had been researching and talking to some marina supply folks in the area to see if we could find a local shop that carried a portable oil change kit. We were either going to have to pick one up there in St. Pete or down in Ft. Myers for sure. The cleanliness of the oil in the engine easily trumps the inconvenience of a big oil change tub on the boat.

Luckily, Phillip found a local marine supply shop in St. Pete that had one. And, since we had the afternoon off after our journey through the incredible world of Dali, we decided to venture out and get it. And, as it always seems, our ‘venture’ quickly became an ADventure.

As you know, we traveled to the sensational city of St. Pete by boat. Which means, when we venture away from the boat, we have to travel by foot, bike or cab for supplies and provisions. Sadly, Google maps steered us wrong that day and we ended up walking about eight miles to and fro across the city searching for an Auto Zone that no longer seemed to exist (at least not in the prior location). And, ignorant of the monumental trek we were about to make, this dumb mate wore a cute little pair of summer flip-flops that weren’t really up for the task:

I know, cute right? Perfect for the museum, noooot so much for the Million Mile March. These dogs were barking! About mid-way through the trek, I finally just kicked them off and resigned to sport some wicked Wal-Mart feet for the rest of the venture.

And, don’t pretend you don’t know what those are …

Yeah, I’m not afraid.

But, we did finally make it to the marine supply store. Wait … I’m sorry. Warehouse. The Marine Supply Warehouse. Yep. There it is:

A small door in a duplex with a sign that read:

Well, the Captain wasn’t afraid.

He marched right in there.

And, man, when they say warehouse … what they really mean is … 500 square feet and three aisles:

It was no West Marine, but they did have the oil change kit we needed and plenty of other boat goodies. And, while the Back Door Marine Supply Guy that ran the shop was pretty knowledgeable,

he’s one of those types that will always answer your question with a question:

Customer: “Hello, sir. We need an oil filter, a Puralator L30001. Do you have one?”

Supply Guy: “What are you going to use it for?”

Customer: “To change the oil on our boat.”

Supply Guy: “What kind of engine do you have?”

You see what I’m saying. It’s like you have to answer his three magical questions before he will grant you the wish of the product you’d like to purchase.

But, nice guy – after the inquisition – and he did hook us up with the oil change kit we needed, so he’s tops in my book. After the epic pilgrimage to his back door, though, it was clear there would be no more walking for this crew. The Captain called us a cab, which arrived a prompt forty-five minutes later (speedy!) and we hitched a ride back to the other side of town to pick up the oil and filter and some other provisions for the next passage.

“Auto Zone, please.”

Once we made it back to the boat, we were pleased to find the new oil pump fit nicely in a locker under the vberth. No more big, oily rubbermaid container for this crew. We now travel full-time with oil change kit in tow. So, the St. Pete pilgrimage really paid off. We checked the radar and forecast for the following day and decided we would head back out into the Gulf tomorrow and try to make the approximate 24-hour run down to Ft. Myers, this time, hopefully, without any sail issues.

We ventured out one last time to the downtown strip in St. Pete for some drinks and dinner.

I ordered up the namesake “Tryst” cocktail at the Tryst Gastro Lounge, a fun, up-scale contemporary bar on the downtown strip. Both the drinks and the atmosphere were superb.

We then enjoyed a hearty St. Pete last supper at the British Tavern, The Moon Under Water, which began, as any good British meal should, with a stout painkiller and a beer,

We then devoured a tabbouleh and lamb starter,

and polished it all off with a shepherd’s pie and fish and chips. This crew was going to be full (stuffed actually!) and well-rested for the trip tomorrow.

And, in case you didn’t know, a fun aside about the origin of the name “Moon Under Water”:

Accept the Queen’s Shilling by “fair means or foul” and you’re recruited into the British Army? And, they bury it in the bottom of a drink?! I would have been a goner for sure. I always make it to the bottom of a drink!

After several ‘bottoms,’ we made our way back to the boat and tucked in for the night. Having had our fill of downtown fun in St. Pete and feeling extremely lucky to have stumbled upon such a quick and affordable fix for our furling Jenny (thanks again Steve!), we were excited to get back underway.

“Phillip, do you hear that?”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s the Gulf calling. She wants us back.”

In the Hands of Heisenberg

June 3, 2014June 2, 2014anniedike

It wasn’t ten minutes after we hung up with Steve that we had the engine cranked and warming. We were pulling our dock line off of the mooring ball to head over to the SMMR, Inc. shop on Salt Creek so Steve could have a look at our busted Jenny swivel.

We could tell Steve was real sharp over the phone. He knew immediately what had happened to our Jenny shackle and the likely problem we were going to have fixing it. The ball bearings weren’t really the issue. Steve had plenty of them lying around the shop that he could use to replace the ones that had fallen out of our shackle. The real problem would arise if our shackle turned out to be too damaged to be re-assembled. If it was in fact broken beyond repair, we would need a new one. And, while we do have an incredible, sturdy, wonderfully-built old boat, she is still an OLD boat, and the harken furling system that had been put on her was decidedly outdated. Meaning, a new shackle likely wouldn’t fit on the old foils that were put on our forestay for the old harken system.

The foils are thin metal plates that are fitted on the forestay to allow a snug fit for the Jenny halyard and a sturdy frame for the luff of the Jenny when tacking.

Our Jenny’s quite the tacky gal!

We were hoping for the best as we motored on over to Salt Creek so Steve could have a look at our shackle. Now, I will say, I was fully expecting to encounter many a salty sailor-type when we met Steve and his crew. You know, some old rough-handed, leathered, weathered riggers:

Okay, maybe not that old, but something along those lines. I certainly wasn’t expecting Walter White.

But, that’s who we got! I swear Steve Smith was a spitting image of everyone’s favorite close-shaven meth chef:

See?

And, he was every bit as smart and resourceful, too. Steve was amazing. He took one look at our busted shackle and knew just what to do. He was going to have to unpin the forestay from the pulpit to get the shackle off so he could see about repairing it. Steve had us loosen the backstay to ease the tension on the forestay so he could get it off.

It was strange to see the forestay disconnected from the boat. While I know Steve is an incredibly knowledgeable rigger, it still gave me a stomach ache to see him unpin her and let her go free and dangling. She is just such a crucial piece of rigging. The life of our Jenny was certainly in his able hands. Once Steve got the shackle off and had a good look at it, he agreed with Phillip that it was possible the sir-clip would be put back on and the ball bearings replaced it might be alright. He wouldn’t know, though, until he got in there and started re-assembling her and, like I said, he already had several boats lined up that day for rigging repairs. But, he started eyeing it curiously, turning it over and around in his head, and said:

“You know, I think I may have one of these in the shop.” I mean … really?? An old part that nobody makes anymore? The life-saving swivel piece that could save our Jenny? Just lying around the shop? Phillip and I got our hopes up as Steve walked back to the shop. And, then he emerged!

I’m sure Steve wasn’t as overly dramatic about it as I remember it, but (to me) he looked like the bad boy from the final scene of The Breakfast Club – his hand thrust defiantly into the air.

Except he had a swivel shackle in it! Hallelujah!

Steve – likely sensing my budding excitement – to us the shackle he had found was the Unit 2, and ours was the Unit 1, so there was a chance it wouldn’t fit. (All, I could think, though, was “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance it could!”).

And, despite his already full line-up for the day, Steve rolled up his sleeves and set to work on us immediately. Steve slid the “new” used shackle around the foils on our stay and it was a perfect fit. I’ve never seen anything fit snugger (on something that wasn’t a Kardashian).

Steve told us, “Now, we’re real proud of our old used crap around here,” as he was re-securing the shackle. “I’ll have my wife look it up and see what price we can give you for her.” They only asked $100 for it. IT. A part no one makes anymore, that we couldn’t order or buy online. A part that was going to mean the difference between our hanking on a whopping oversized Jenny the entire trip or furling her – and – that meant we weren’t going to have to have a whole new furling system put on either during the trip or after – and Steve was only asking $100. We had priced out a new swivel (which may or may not have fit on our old foils, and they ranged anywhere from $400 to $500. Phillip and I would have easily paid a pretty penny for Steve’s “old used crap,” but we were even more thrilled to pay an ugly one.

“You bet, Steve. Slap her on there!”

And, so he did. Within an hour and a half of us pulling up to Steve’s shop in Salt Creek, and even with other boats lined up that day that he had to get to, Steve had our stay put back on, with a good-as-new shackle for the Jenny and we even raised her a time or two and furled her back for good measure. Phillip and I were stoked! Steve really went the extra mile. He noticed the splice on the Jenny halyard was a little thick and caused the line to catch in the throat at the top of the mast, so he cut it off and tied us a halyard knot in it. He also noticed that the end of the jib halyard we had purchased for the trip wasn’t whipped at the end, which just didn’t sit well with him as a rigger. He whipped out his whipping line and sodder tool and whipped us right up. Even gave me a free lesson in whipping that I put to good use later. We couldn’t have been more impressed with Steve. We’re almost as big of fans of his as we are of Walter White.

With our Jenny fully repaired, raised, furled and ready to go, Phillip and I motored back to the Vinoy Basin with smiles the size of Texas. It was around 2:00 p.m. when we got back, and we cracked open a beer (okay a cocktail for me), and kicked right back there in the cockpit to admire our furled Jenny.

All in a day’s work!

The View From Up Top

May 30, 2014anniedike

April 14, 2014:

You guessed it. Another mast climb. After we let our hair down and painted St. Pete red on Sunday night, Captain was quick to wake on Monday morning and put this crew to work!

Thankfully, this time we were able to use the main halyard to raise me, which is faaarrr more reliable that the spinnaker halyard we had to use last time to retrieve the main halyard. That thing scared the Bejeesus out of me. (Yes, that’s a word – quite the fitting one here). I think we stretched her three times her length last time. And, having the boat tied securely to a mooring ball while I ascended (as opposed to swaying like a treetop in the wind mid-sea) made the climb infinitely more comfortable.

“Look Ma! No hands!”

In light of the vastly improved conditions, I took some time this time to get some footage! I give you … the view from up top!

Such a great shot! I love the view of this boat from up top. She’s beautiful from all angles!

Thankfully, I made it up this time without any issue. It was a nice, easy ride using the main halyard. As part of our preparations for the Keys, we had replaced the old main line with new VPC hybrid braid and what a difference! I don’t think she stretched one bit while hoisting my heavy bottom all the way to the top.

I even got some footage from up top!

Video HERE.

What I find incredibly entertaining about this clip, though, is while I’m up there is Phillip’s one-line dialog: “What about the piece that broke?” I mean, I’m up there risking life and limb climbing this mast (what seems like day after day on our sailing adventure) and the one time I try and take thirty seconds to capture it on film, Phillip is still all business. “What about the piece that broke?” he says.

NOT: “Man what a great climber you are, Annie.” “Wow, you look like a real pro up there, Annie.” “Go ahead, take all the time you need up there, Annie.”

NOPE. It’s “what about the piece that broke?”

Like I said … a real slavedriver. Yeaaahhh … He’ll regret that later …

Much like the piece of the shackle that had come down (the swivel portion), the “piece that broke” (the part that connects to the Jenny halyard), it didn’t seem to have any obvious defect. I shimmied it down and Phillip inspected it down on the deck. He said it seemed the sir-clip (aka c-clip) had just popped off, which caused the shackle to come apart, allowing the swivel part to fall, and the halyard piece to remain at the top of the mast. But, we were still missing some bearings, so repairs were certainly in order. I also pulled off what looked like some marred black plastic at the top of the foil on the forestay.

We also put the inner forestay back in on the way down. You’ll love this … So, if you recall, our inner forestay busted during our initial Gulf Crossing when we were sailing the boat back from Punta Gorda, FL home to Pensacola, FL and we had a new one put in as part of our Keys preparations. Well, the darn thing banged around like a banshee the first week of the trip and drove us crazy. For that reason we decided to take her out when I had to climb the mast the first time to get the main halyard down.

Yeah, I can just imagine what you’re thinking (and saying to yourself with an imaginary pat on our heads): “Poor little novice sailors. You will learn.”

Don’t worry. We were doing that to ourselves. When Jenny had her crack-induced fall-out and busted, we said the exact same thing to ourselves. “Oh, no worries. We can just hoist the staysail and keep on cruising.” Except that we had taken down the forestay for the staysail. I know … real brilliant like. But she was banging! And, I’ll tell you, with sailing, if you’re not out there screwing up and learning from your mistakes, then you’re not really sailing. So, we chalked it up. “Might as well put that back up while you’re up there.” Which we did. Lesson learned. Make sure all of your safety and back-up gear are always ready, rigged and in working order. You never know when you’re going to need them.

The great news was, we made it back up and down the mast a second time, safely, and we now had both busted parts of the Jenny down, as well as the Jenny halyard. Done and done. Hopefully no more mast climbs this trip. But, we had even better news. Once we got down and situated, Phillip got on the horn with the folks at Embree Marina who our previous owner had recommended in St. Pete, and they referred us to a local rigger – Steve Smith of SMMR, Inc. We gave him a call and, while he had a few boats already lined up to work on that day, he asked us if we could motor over that morning so he could have a quick look at our Jenny shackle and give us a diagnosis. We told him we were tied up to a mooring ball in the North Vinoy Basin and, turns out, he was just a short hop out into the bay and around the bend, up Salt Creek.

“Uhhh … you bet Steve. We’ll be right there!” We readied the boat and headed out.

April 9, 2014 – Keys Log: Day 7 – MOTORIN’!

May 5, 2014May 3, 2014anniedike

WHAT’S YOUR PRICE FOR FLIGHT?? At least I think those are the lyrics.

Feel free to test me (and jam to that oldie-but-a-goodie) here. But, know that I don’t care either way, because that’s what I like to belt out. “Finding Mr. Right! Believe you will tonight!” That’s the way I sing it. And, the way I sung it that day. We were “Motorin’!” down the ditch that day. We had waited an extra day due to heavy winds and a kicked-up sea state out in the Gulf and while the winds had made for a good kite day for us yesterday, they made for a terrible night of unrest for us on the ole’ Rest. They were blowing us hard against the dock, all night long, which meant lots of groaning and squeaking on the fenders. It was a bit of a rough night for the boat. While we had planned to leave at dawn, we ended up waiting a couple of hours for the wind to lie down. She finally settled out some around 7:00 a.m., but we couldn’t wait much longer, we had a good 10 hours of motoring ahead of us if we were going to make it to Carabelle that night. We neededst to go!

We sipped some coffee and readied the boat and I sat there contemplating the Gorton’s pants. I just couldn’t bear to leave them hanging there so lonely on that pole,

and I certainly couldn’t wad them up and throw them in the trash. We’d been through so much together! While they made an absolute mess now every time I put them on, Phillip made the excellent point that it would be good to have a back-up set of foul weather gear – albeit a messy one – shoved away in some locker on the boat in case we had a third mate aboard who found himself foul weather gear-less. Good point! (Although I needed no real excuse to keep them on the boat as a good luck charm alone, it feels better to do it under sensible pretenses). Either way, we folded them up and shoved them in a vberth locker,

and I felt much better about it. There, there Gorton’s. You’re still with us!

Just as we were getting ready to shove off, our dock-mate, “Skipper Bob” on the s/v Maverick, came out to lend a hand. The wind was blowing hard off the the starboard bow and we were wedged in fairly tight between our two dock-mates, Maverick and Liza. With Bob’s help, we decided to let the bow off and back out around Liza then turn starboard and move forward. A great plan, in theory, but it was blowing about 18 knots. Phillip started to back out and tried to push his stern out far enough to clear Liza behind him but the wind wasn’t letting him move very far. He went back and forth a couple of times (the beginnings of an 82-point turn) and finally just scooched outside of Liza but when he started to move forward, the wind pushed hard on the boat broadside and sent her stern back toward the pilings. Bob and I looked like a pair of dancing monkeys, me on the boat and him on the dock, running the length of the boat shoving the boat off of pilings. It was a mighty struggle. I stuck a foot out and gave one last mighty push and the stern missed the dock by just inches and Phillip was revving hard to miss Bob and Pat’s boat in front of us. Bob was a huge help, though, and a good sport. As we just squeezed by his dinghy, he hollered out “You should’ve swiped her! We need a new one! Safe travels you guys!” It was a heart-pounding moment and certainly not the way you want to start a leisurely morning. When I finally made it back to the cockpit, heaving and sweating, my heart still thumping mightily in my chest, Phillip scolded me for sacrificing my body for the boat. Rightfully so. It was a good lesson. Unfortunately, it was also one that I would not really learn until later, but that’s well on down the line. For the moment, we were finally off the dock, our adrenaline subsiding and we enjoyed the sunrise as we headed out into the bay.

The view was amazing when we came under the bridge to Port St. Joe. A gorgeous sunrise, the slightest bit of fog on the water and pelicans everywhere, just skimming the water.

Well, most were skimming. One wasn’t so lucky. As we turned in under the bridge to Port St. Joe, we heard a mighty thump up at the bow. I had been staring off the starboard side, watching some pelicans glide above the water, and I was shocked to now see one, ten feet away, flapping and wrestling around on our foredeck. A pelican! Flopping around on the boat!?! For whatever reason, perhaps he’d had one too many Sailor Jerry’s at the old Pelican’s Perch the night before, or he was just the local pelican idiot, he had flown right into our Jenny sheet, and the more he squirmed and flung those big, clumsy wings of his around, the more tangled up he got. The sheet was wrapped around his neck at one point. I thought I might have to go rescue him and actually got a little excited thinking about it. Man-handling a real, live pelican? I mean, could it get any better? Phillip and I watched him a moment or two longer in astonishment, exchanging a few lame guesses as to what in the hell had driven him right into our boat. I remember Phillip saying at one point, “Is he retarded?” Good question. How do you know if a pelican is? He finally flapped himself free of the Jenny line, though, and then waddled and snaggled his way through the lifelines and took off from the starboard bow. I watched him fly for just a bit and then he quickly plopped down in the water, shook his head a hard time or two and just sat there for a bit. Trying to get his bearings I would imagine. Big dumb bird. That was wild.

Once we’d shaken that image out of our mind, we sat back and enjoyed watching the sun come up over the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway (“the ditch”). It was incredible. Big, rusty shrimp boats lining the docks, fog dissipating on the horizon, jagged tree stumps lining the shore. I felt like we were making our way right down the ole’ Mississipp’ and that Huck Finn would pass by on his raft at any moment. It was such a surreal feeling.

We made a pot of piping oatmeal and savored our morning in the ditch.

Lake Wimico was gorgeous too and we made a nice, easy day of it motoring over to Apalachicola. We needed to fuel up for the planned Gulf Crossing tomorrow, so we stopped into the fuel dock just before Apalachicola Bridge and suffered our second docking debacle of the day. I’m starting to think I’ve got some kind of horrendous docking curse. The current was really working against us, pushing us right along the dock, so it was crucial we get a line on –and fast. I called ahead to let them know we were coming (like I said, I’m not afraid to ask for an extra hand to save our boat!), and I threw the guy the bow line as we were coming in. It landed at his feet and before he could get down to it (sadly he did not move at the pace I do when we’re docking – that of a mad jackrabbit), and I watched in horror as it snaked slowly away from his feet and into the water. I’m sure I didn’t hide my distaste very well … But, perhaps I should have taken a lesson from him. Phillip always says “Smooth is fast.” As I scrambled wildly to pull the line back up before it made its way back to the prop, I slipped nicely on the wet foredeck and found the only thing that saved me from going overboard was the fat welp I had just created on my chin when it wedged against the lifeline. Smooth Annie. But, at least we knew the lifelines we had re-tied during our Keys preparations were working.

They certainly kept my sorry self on the boat that day, and it wouldn’t be the first time we would test them on this trip. We finally got the boat secure at the fuel dock, though, and set about fueling her up. If I haven’t expressed it quite clearly enough – I hate docking! Something always seems to go awry and put our boat in grave danger. It’s like watching your dog cross a busy street alone. It’s just unnerving sometimes.

But, alas, we gassed up and made our way out into Apalachicola Bay. It was a gorgeous day and we had favorable wind. While our morning motoring was fun, we have a sailboat for a reason. We like to sail! I didn’t hesitate to jump up on the deck and ready our sails!

And, we were thrilled to see some guys out oystering in the St. George Sound. When we ordered oysters in Port St. Joe, we had been told they came from Texas, because the local supply was low, so we were glad to see them out there harvesting. They said the oysters were coming back. Good! Cause we like to eat ’em!

The wind picked up that afternoon, a steady northeast around 14 knots, and we actually did some of the best sailing yet on our trip. We were heeled over, averaging 6.5, sometimes 7 knots most of the way. That was the fastest we had gone the entire trip and it felt great! I was curled up and leaning over the coaming on the windward side — pretty much the equivalent of a dog sticking his head out of the car window — watching the hull cut through the water. We were sailing baby!

We made it over to Dog Island around dusk and got ready to drop the hook. We had covered a lot of ground that day!

Log book:

We struggled a bit with the anchor chain. As part of our preparations for the trip to the Keys, we had pulled it all out at the dock to (a) check the length and (b) remark the 25-foot indicators. Regarding the length, 200 feet was our belief, but we wanted to verify that and make sure the end was secured to the boat. I certainly did not want to be the one to send the entire thing out and overboard because we’d never eye-balled the end. “Did you get the anchor out?” calls the Captain from the cockpit. “Yep, just fine. She’s all OUT!” DOH! So, we pulled her out for a look-see:

And do know that the entire time we were hoisting chain along the dock, I couldn’t help but shake the song “Back on the chain gang!” from my head.

All out – 200 feet total.

Yep. Tied in. Whew! Now for the indicators:

25 feet

50 feet

75 feet

100 feet

125 feet

150 feet

175 feet. End of the line!

While the chain gang project was a good thing to do (you want to be sure), we believe, for whatever reason, our having pulled it all out and winched it back in at the dock, without tension, caused it to pile up on itself in some unfavorable way in the anchor locker, which made it a mighty struggle to heave it out, but we finally got 150 feet out and set right to what we do best at anchorage. Making some cocktails to enjoy the sunset!

I have to say – we love our stand-up ice tray on the boat. It makes these huge, Mad Men-esque cubes that look like they were made to be drenched in fine whiskey. Or rum … we usually choose the latter.

Dog Island was a fantastic anchorage. Pristine actually. Beautiful white sand, an exquisite view of both the Gulf on one side and St. George Sound on the other. There were just a few old wooden houses, mansions really, propped up on stilts overlooking both sides. And, the sunset was just stunning.

We savored the moment – and a few more cocktails – made dinner and called it a night. If things went well — and from our past record “well” wasn’t usually how things progressed for us when crossing the Gulf — but, if they did, we were looking at a thirty-hour passage out of the East Pass to Clearwater. Well or otherwise, we were eager to see what the Gulf had in store for us tomorrow.