cruising to the florida keys – Page 2

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!

Martaritas and Oysterfellers

June 30, 2014June 30, 2014anniedike

April 18, 2014:

Did I say a margarita? Okay, it was probably more than one … maybe more than two. After we got the “car” (aka our dinghy) cranked and running, we scooted on up to the dinghy dock at Ft. Myers Beach to see what all the fuss was about. We checked in at the Matanzas Inn and, like many of the other mooring fields we had stopped at along the way, Ft. Myers did not disappoint. For a sum total of $15/night, we were secure on the ball with welcomed access to the dinghy dock, restrooms and showers, and (in our opinion), a pimped out laundry room:

I mean, more than one washer and dryer … and a book swap?!? This place was four star! We were thrilled with the amenities. We signed up for two nights and hit the town, puffing out our chests and cheering ourselves along with a mighty “They can’t handle us!” mantra.

We headed first to the beach to see the shore and what kind of salty, sandy folks we were dealing with in Ft. Myers. We stumbled upon a place called “Top O’ the Mast” and thought how fitting?

I’d been there a time or two already on this trip. Why not? Let’s give it a try. We ordered up a couple of their signature rum runners and headed out to the beach.

There we found a diverse bunch of beach bar bums and laz-abouts that felt just our speed. We kicked back with our drinks and watched several gals who looked like they were about three years out of middle school and three sheets to the wind crash their kayak repeatedly in some heavy surf, an older couple on wobbly legs attempt to dance to Eagles tunes and a steroid-infused jet ski rental dude hit on anything remotely resembling a tweenager. It was an easy, entertaining scene.

We then ventured out to find some late lunch beach grub and we came upon an open bar restaurant spilling over with folks called SOB – Smokin’ Oyster Brewery.

Whether it was the name or the atmosphere, I’m not sure, but that place fit us like a worn glove.

We’re not!

When we walked in, there was a band playing in the corner, an old Commodores song I believe, and the lead singer/saxist (or is it saxophonist?) was sauntering around barefoot, playing his heart out, making all the old biddies croon.

He was a big beast of a guy, with what appeared to be several drinks spilled down the front of his shirt, but he was an incredible musician with an obvious passion for his … work. We kicked right back and ordered up a cocktail, a margarita and some delicious sweet, crunchy coconut shrimp.

That was followed by another round of margaritas (I told you it was more than one!)

and another appetizer – the oysters Rockefeller – which I couldn’t manage to call anything but “Martaritas and Oysterfellers” by then.

Luckily the gal who was waiting on us spoke ‘Annie’ and she was able to pick up what I was putting down. For the most part … But, put it down we did. We followed the appetizers up with a slow braised pork shank. Put your fingers to your lips and spritz them out with a smack. Mphua! Whatever that is – that’s what our pork shank was. DE-lish. (And don’t ask me where the picture of it is … I took one I know, but lost it I’m sure!)

After filling our spirits and savoring our big, filling late-lunch, we sauntered back to the dinghy and cruised on back to the boat.

There she is! What a beaut!

We kicked back in the cockpit and took in, what I can now safely say, was the best sunset of the trip.

By cockpit that is …

After the horrendous storm we had encountered in the mooring field the night before, it was nice to see the view we had just seen the day before brewing with ominous clouds now serene and stained with shocking pinks and a burning yellow.

It was so beautiful it silenced us. We both sat in awe, enjoying the slow movement of our chests rising and falling in gratitude,

as the realization started to sink in. We had made it all the way down to Ft. Myers — by boat! Our next stop was Key West. We would be making the jump across the Gulf in just a couple of days. This was it! We were on it. The trip we had been planning for months, preparing and provisioning for for weeks, dreaming about for years. And, here we were. Truly living it. But, we both knew we were enjoying every stop, every step and every breathtaking sunset along the way.

It was the destination that had motivated us, initially, to set our sights on the sea, but it was now the journey that was capturing us, calling us onward, always, for more – to anywhere and nowhere – by boat.

Of Biblical Proportions …

June 20, 2014June 20, 2014anniedike

April 17, 2014 – Keys Log, Day 15:

It was around 4:30 in the morning. Phillip had been holding the helm hour upon hour as we beat our way through the Gulf. It was shocking to see the wind hold so steady. We glared at the instruments like you would your mom telling your prom date how cute it was when you used to run around the neighborhood naked. Please say something different. Please! But, no. The wind instrument registered 25+ for hours, upon hours, upon hours. Sometimes, it would fall down to the low twenties, or even 19 (oooh!), and we would start to get excited. We’ll take 19. But then it would crank right back up to the upper 20’s again and hold steady for hours, upon hours, upon hours. It was a very rough night. I think I might have fallen asleep for two minutes – twice – out of sheer exhaustion, but then a loud crack on a wave and my head would bang against the companionway and I was up again. Phillip never shut his eyes. Not once. All night long he held that wheel.

After battling these conditions for 4-5 hours, we had decided a little after midnight to pull out of the Gulf and take cover in Charlotte Harbor. It was clear the wind was not going to let up. We had wanted to make it from Tampa Bay to Ft. Myers in roughly 24 hours to beat the “numerous thunderstorms” that were set to come in later that afternoon, but with the horrendous night we were having, it just wasn’t looking feasible. And, we had both been up for about 20 hours straight at that point. We were beat.

But, just when you think things are going to get a little easier, in sailing it seems that’s just about the time they get a little harder – always pushing you to your limits. Here we were, 4:30 a.m., and we were coming into a new harbor at night, in 3-4 waves and 25+ mph winds. We had made our way out of Charlotte Harbor one time before, during the Gulf Crossing when we brought the boat back from Punta Gorda.

Man, look at us. There’s Mitch. “Hey Mitch!” And, my God, we still have the dinghy! That seems like forever ago …

But, when we made our way through Charlotte Harbor that time, it was in broad daylight and much calmer conditions. We certainly wouldn’t call this a pass we were truly “familiar with,” and we were coming in at night.

Phillip gave me the wheel (for the first time since 9:00 p.m.) so he could check the charts to make sure there weren’t any shoals or other hazards.

It seems there are always hazards. I guess we just prefer to call them “adventures.” There were a couple of areas where we had to go outside of the markers to avoid the shoals, but I’m thrilled to say we made our way safely into Charlotte Harbor, at night, and left the tumultuous waters of the Gulf behind us. We pulled into the Pass just as the sun was coming up.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful to see warm rays of sun on Phillip’s face. The Captain really stepped up that night and brought us in safe. We were both so grateful. The sun was out, the horizon was visible and we were intact – me, Phillip, the boat and everything on it. We had made it through that harrowing night.

And, we could see land on the horizon. Yippeee!

We pulled into the harbor and found the first place with a decent swing radius off the ICW to drop anchor and get some rest.

It was around 8:30 a.m. by then and we had both been going about 26+ hours. I don’t even remember crawling into the vberth and shutting my eyes. In fact, I’m not even sure how I got into bed. (That’s not the first time that’s happened, though, and I’m sure it won’t be the last).

But, it was a short reprieve. We hadn’t been asleep an hour – at most – and the Captain sprang back into action. He was up, walking around on the deck, making sounds that sounded all too much like he was readying the boat. I was cursing him from the vberth below. But, I finally roused and asked him what the plan was. “We’re going,” he said. “It’s beautiful out here. Not a cloud in the sky. We can make it to Ft. Myers today.”

That man … He’s got a sailor’s heart, no doubt. But, his enthusiasm was infectious. I started nodding my head slowly, then with a little more vigor, like a slow standing clap. You’re damn right we can! Our plan had been to make it to Ft. Myers that day and, after the horrendous night we had had in the Gulf, and we were now here, safe in the ICW, just a 5-6 hour motor away from our goal, then by gollie, let’s do it. Let’s get to Ft. Myers today! I started readying the boat with him.

And, if there is anything out there like “sea karma” or “gulf good will,” we had certainly earned ours. It was a beautiful motor day. Phillip was right, the sun was shining, the sights were superb along the ICW – Cayo Costa, Cabbage Key, all of the state parks along the way. We had definitely earned some favors from the Sea Gods (if there is such a thing). We tied on some swimwear and let our hair down. It was a glorious day on the boat!

This way Cap’n!

We let the solar shower warm on the deck during the day and enjoyed a luxurious cockpit shower in the afternoon. It’s amazing how much you can take for granted the feeling of just being clean. That is one of the things I truly love about sailing. How much it makes you appreciate the little things – a hot shower, a warm bed, a hearty home-cooked meal. Many of the things that, in all the hustle and bustle of a stressful day-to-day life on land, just seem like an afterthought, feel like a lavish treat when you’re out on the boat. It doesn’t take much, a good book perhaps, a warm cup of coffee, and you’ll find yourself warmed from head to toe with complete contentment.

We made easy way along the ICW that day through Pine Island Sound,

over to San Carlos Bay, by Sanibel Island,

and under the Sanibel Causeway Bridge to Ft. Myers Beach.

We were really excited to see the Beach in the distance. We had made it! The same day we had expected to – which was shocking considering the night we’d had. It was strange how the howling winds and treacherous seas of the Gulf now seemed a million miles away. Nothing could phase us here in Ft. Myers!

Do I really do that? Make that stupid face and thumb-point to landfall behind me?

Apparently … I certainly felt the need in St. Pete.

Well, let’s just throw in a self-serving selfie while we’re at it:

Needless to say, we were thrilled to be coming into Ft. Myers Beach. We even spotted a Pensacola boat headed in with us.

“Look Captain. He’s from P’Cola!”

How fortuitous. Take us on in Pensacola!

When we made it to the Matanzas Pass Bridge, we saw this massive pirate-looking ship just in front of the bridge – its mast easily too tall to get under:

And, there were these guys, way up in the rigging, doing some repairs or something I guess. But, they were dangling there, hundreds of feet from the ground (okay, I don’t know – maybe 70 feet – some courageous number I’m sure):

It was wild. We learned later that the boat was used for filming some of the scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean. You’re telling me Johnny Depp’s been on this boat? This … very … boat?

Mmmm Hmmmm … I would hurt him …

But, back to Phillip. And, the boat. We made our way nicely under the bridge and snagged a mooring ball in the Matanzas Harbor Mooring Field. Operated by the Town of Ft. Myers Beach and again, great rates – $15/day – includes dingy dock, restrooms, shower, laundry, pump-out, you name it. That place rocked!

And, I feel thankful now that we had really paid our dues the night before, fighting and leaping our way across the Gulf, because I think we ranked up just enough good will to save us from this one last catastrophe — a storm … of biblical proportions.

We made it to our mooring ball with ease and hooked up. Ahhh … Nothing to it. We’re experts on the ball now. I stepped up into the cockpit to snap a few shots to capture our new “home” for the next few days, and I’m glad now that I did. Because this is what we saw come over the horizon:

You see the Matanzas Bridge there?

Good, because do you see it now?

The rain came in sheets. Torrential, hard-hitting sheets. Not ten minutes after we had hooked up. Phillip ran up topside to get some our clothes and things off the “line” (the lifelines) and he came back soaked in seconds.

The sky grew an ominous boding grey,

And, rain buried the boats around us.

The wind was blowing 38 mph, with gusts of 42. It was intense and immediate. Frightening but thrilling at the same time. I really felt like I was going to start seeing animals, paired in twos, running along the shore to safety. And, while the thought didn’t strike me until the storm had passed, I can only wonder now what we would have done if that storm had hit 15 minutes earlier …

A Room Without a Roof!

May 27, 2014anniedike

April 13, 2014:

Because we’re HAAPPEEEEYYY! Who wouldn’t be with this set-up in St. Pete? Fresh off the boat, we found ourselves right on the downtown strip. Lots of upscale bars and restaurants, a resort hotel and even a super swanky rooftop lounge. We spent our first night in St. Pete high on the town!

Jenny, what Jenny? That’s a problem for tomorrow! Enjoy the show:

Walking the downtown strip on Parkshore Drive.

Drinks at The Birchwood.

“How about a drink there First Mate?”

“Why, thank you Captain. Don’t mind if I do!”

Exquisite lobby and decor at the Vinoy Renaissance on the North Basin.

Beautiful banyan trees at the Waterfront Downtown Park.

Drinks and dinner at the Parkshore Grill.

Too bad we dug into dinner before this “foodie” could snap her shots. Whoops. But– take my word for it — it was awesome. A stacked juicy cheeseburger with hand-cut fries!

Clean plate club!

Drinks (yes, more!) this time at The Birchwood Rooftop Bar:

We could actually look out and see our boat there in the mooring field. Soooo cool.

See? You’d be happy too! We were definitely digging St. Pete. Not a bad place to be stuck for repairs. Not a bad place at all …

Annie On the Ball!

May 24, 2014August 27, 2015anniedike

April 13, 2014:

So, now you know our first night at a KEY was not the peaceful, dreamy stuff Sandals Beach Resort commercials are made of …

Ahhh … bring me another cocktail Pedro.

But, we at least survived it. Despite my horrific, vivid night-magination, I was thrilled to wake and find the pulpit on the bow had in fact NOT snapped off and the boat had NOT flipped over during the night, but we had spent an incredibly rough night at anchor. Key or not, I don’t think we’ll be planning to drop the hook on that side of Egmont anytime soon.

“I want my money back!”

As soon as one stray shard of morning light struck the deck, we pulled the anchor and high-tailed it!

We set out across Tampa Bay at daybreak.

But, it’s a biiiiiig bay. We still had a long way to go to get to St. Pete.

We did enjoy coming under the SkyWay Bridge.

Having both been to St. Pete by land, the bridge was sort of iconic for us – a true monument to how far south we had actually come by boat!

And, I know the thing is like 8,000 miles high, give or take, but I swear, it still feels like we might hit. I hate watching the mast go under bridges. Because, I mean, really, what are you going to do at the moment of impact if it does hit? I just squeeze my eyes tight and think short thoughts!

But, I’m happy to say we cleared her just fine!

And, while we did have to motor that morning because the wind was dead on our nose and the bay was pretty chopped up, we did enjoy traversing new waters and were excited to see St. Pete come into view on the horizon.

We called ahead to see if we could find a transient slip or a mooring ball, and luckily they had room for us in the mooring field in the Vinoy Basin. We’d never snagged a mooring ball before and with all of the docking debacles we had suffered already, you can imagine what went through my mind …

Certain disaster. Likely ending with a mate overboard … Grabbing a mooring ball is not always easy, and I can imagine in heavy winds or current (or with novice-slash-clumsy crew *throat clearing*), it can be pretty darn difficult. Proof:

How Not to Pick Up a Mooring Ball

But, I was ready. I had gaff in hand, line all tied and secure. I was going to GET THAT BALL!!

And, get it I did! On the first try! We snagged her right up and secured that boat in no time.

And, man, what a great place to stop for repairs! The Vinoy Basin was beautiful.

It had its own dinghy dock, within rowing distance.

And, we were within walking distance of all the facilities and the downtown strip!

It is a city-maintained marina, so nice facilities – shower, laundry, and all of that. And, at $14/night, we certainly weren’t putting a hurting on the cruising kitty. The basin also offered decent protection from just about any wind direction. Oh, and the dockmaster – real nice guy, can’t remember his name, though I’m sure it was Bill, or Billy, or Mack or Buddy – even came to pick us up in the famous Dock Mule!

Awesome. We were ready to get showered up and check out the town. It was Sunday afternoon. We weren’t going to be able to deal with our busted Jenny until tomorrow at best, so might as well enjoy it, am I right?

Sure Buddy, give us a ride. Let’s see what this town of St. Pete is all about!

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.