gasparilla marina – Have Wind Will Travel

Open Says-a-Me!

October 22, 2014October 22, 2014anniedike

May 1, 2014:

That’s right. May. We finally made it to MAY. Phillip and I both couldn’t believe we had spent an entire month on the boat and it had felt like only a couple of weeks, a few days at the most! Time was flying and our trip, it seemed, was slipping by faster than we would have liked. But, I’m sure it always feels that way. You never really want to go back … once you start going! But, sadly, we had jobs and meetings and all sorts of other obligations calling us back to Pensacola, so we needed to start making way that way. Although our original plan had been to make our way up along the coast to Clearwater before we jumped back across the Gulf to Carrabelle, considering our engine situation (one drip approximately every 10 seconds) and reports we had heard of storms rolling into Clearwater, we decided to motor up the ICW to Venice to shave a little off of our trip to Clearwater and closely monitor our engine in the safety of protected waters.

We would then make the Gulf crossing we had now made three times back from Clearwater to Carrabelle. It would be the last BIG crossing of the trip.

And, as you may recall, the last time we made this passage, from Clearwater to Carrabelle, we beat into 30 hours of rough weather and seas and had to hack off our dinghy in the middle of the crossing.

The really mind-blowing thing was, though, that she made her way across the entire Gulf alone and ended up in Ft. Walton, where we reclaimed her. This time, thankfully, we had opted for an inflatable dinghy, which was stowed safely below, so, assuming good weather, we were hoping to have a smoother passage. But, that was the next leg. We set our sights first on Venice via the ICW. Now, recall we still had a dripping dripless, although it was relatively minor, and a fluky manual bilge pump which we attributed to a cracked pump hose. So, our first mission that morning was to retrieve the replacement hose we had ordered at the Gasparilla Marina and make sure our manual bilge pump was working. That was the mission anyway …

I will say, it was a beautiful area around Gasparilla for walking, biking, canoeing, and

they had a very friendly staff at the marina, happy to sell us any type of hose we wanted. Cha-ching! Unfortunately, though, the new hose didn’t fix our manual bilge pump problem. Even after feeding the new hose from the pump at the cockpit down to the bilge, we still couldn’t suck the last bit of water out. It seemed the pump wasn’t sucking very well. It kind of sucked at sucking, I guess you would say …

But, our electric bilge pump was working fine, our manual pump was only kind of sucky and our thirsty Thirsty Mate, that trusty ole’ chap, was working great. Super suckage. So, we decided to go for it. We tossed the lines, had a friendly lad at the dock help us ease out (hence – no docking debacle this time!) and headed up the ICW toward Venice.

See ya!

Now, the ICW runs along the West Coast of Florida from Anclote Key (Tarpon Springs, just north of Clearwater) down to Ft. Meyers, and serves as a nice option if the sea state in the Gulf is gnarly and you still want to make way along the coast. Most of the bridges along that route are either 65 feet or taller or they open to allow marina traffic through. We had six bridges total to make it through from Gasparilla up to Venice.

Most of them were open on-demand. Meaning you call the “bridgemaster” (I assume that’s his technical title) about 10 minutes out to request he open the bridge for you — “Open Says-a-ME!” Assuming no traffic or issues, it’s no problem, he opens the bridge as you’re headed toward him and voila! Occasionally, he may have some traffic backed up or some other issue and you’ll have to do a few circles before he can make it happen for you, but it’s generally not a problem. Other bridges open on a schedule, once every 15 or 30 minutes. So, you just have to know your bridges ahead of time and schedule/plan accordingly.

Luckily, I travel with the most awesome Captain in the world, and he had figured all of this out ahead of time and had all the numbers and times and everything printed out, ready to go, while I sat around and ate grapefruit.

Ain’t life grand? Okay, I shared some with the Captain, too.

Grapefruit … yum!

But, Phillip soon wised up and put me to work, keeping up with the log book, checking on the bridge times and

(of course!) monitoring our engine drip.

Drip …

We were motoring under moderate load most of the day and she was dripping once approximately every 15-20 seconds. It seemed the hotter and harder she ran, the less the drip.

No comment … Likely the pressure and heat caused the seal around the stuffing box to swell, which created a tighter seal. In all, we were pleased with the slight drip and felt comfortable spending the day motoring up the ICW. The esteemed Captain called ahead as needed for bridges that opened on demand.

“Open Says-a-ME!”

And we tried to motor accordingly (slower or faster) to come up on those that were scheduled just about the time they were opening.

It was pretty cool to see the massive cranks and gears that raised these bridges.

It’s pretty impressive to take a road that can hold tons upon tons of traffic and just … eehhh … crack it open and let a boat through. While most opened up like a drawbridge, we did pass through one that spun on an axis.

Like I said. Pretty cool. Definitely a different feeling than making our way across the Gulf. While we prefer to sail — always — it was a nice motor day and we got to marvel at some impressive engineering feats along the way.

An inspection of the arm showed I was developing a rare case of what we quickly coined “elephantitis.”

Everything from the wrist down was normal until about here,

where it balooned out and took on a squishy, swollen feel all the way up to my shoulder. And, let me just warn you – do NOT Google images for elephantitis. Just. Don’t.

We made it to the Crow’s Nest Marina in Venice around 3:00 p.m. and settled in nicely at Slip No. 9. The staff at the marina were exceptional. They helped us dock, welcomed us with maps, info, a menu for the local Crow’s Nest restaurant and showed us the facilities. Washer & dryer, nice showers, restrooms, even free bike rentals for marina guests. Sweet!

Live webcam leading out to the jetty:

By then, it was getting close to 4:00 and we were getting … happy. “I’ll take an Oh Shit!, please.”

Mmmmm-Hmmmm!

We sat and sipped and uked and watched the marina activity for a bit,

before cleaning up to head over to the Crow’s Nest Marina Restaurant for dinner. They had separate shower suites, with restroom and shower stalls, which is super nice.

Not “truck-stoppey” at all! The arm was looking awesome …

Not disgusting at all! Just kind of Popeye’ish if you ask me.

I do eats me spinach! But, it was progressing along fairly well and still attached … so, no complaints.

We cleaned up and got ready for a nice dinner at the marina restaurant. The bottom floor of the Crow’s Nest Restaurant is more casual, a tavern-like atmosphere with light fare, live music, etc.,

while the top floor is a ritzy, fine-dining restaurant.

We figured, when in Venice …

“Table for two, please. Top floor.”

And, the food … was … decadent! We ordered up some phenomenal chicken skewers and oysters to start,

which of course came with a basket of piping hot fresh bread and a trifecta of dipping goodness (salty house-made butter, crushed garlic spread and olive oil with spices.

Then, well, things got a little hazy. I remember ordering (and thoroughly enjoying) the snow crab legs, and Phillip got the lamp chops. But, let’s just say, we were a few cocktails, two glasses of champagne and a couple bottles of wine in. I told you we were going to take this crazy act on the road! I remember the crab legs, but not the bib …

“You say it brings out my eyes? Stop it. Cap’n, you’re making me blush. My, my … “

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!

If It’s Called a Dripless, You Would Think It Wouldn’t …

October 1, 2014October 8, 2014anniedike

April 29, 2014:

Uh-huh. Go on. Say it. DRIP. We found while motoring that morning that we had a steady drip coming out from the stuffing box around our propeller shaft. The stuffing box is basically a seal around the shaft of the propeller to keep the water that’s supposed to stay outside of the boat … OUTSIDE of the boat.

While some stuffing boxes are designed to drip slightly when the shaft is turning, to cool the shaft, others are designed not to drip at all. Hence the name — dripLESS. But, ours was doing more than dripping. We had a steady trickle when the shaft was turning and a slight gush upon manipulation – think more of a heavy flow than light. We needed some protection!

Close …

While stopping the leak was a priority, until we could get to a marina to troubleshoot and diagnose, we certainly wanted to maintain the leak. It was dripping right into the bilge, which is not a problem assuming the bilge pump is working fine. We were certain ours was because the automatic pump actually seemed to have been kicking on a little too frequently during our last day or two in the Keys, a pattern we now knew was attributable to our dripping dripless. But, we decided to try and capture the trickle before it made it to the bilge to reduce the load on the pump in having to frequently dump the bilge. This called for the handy little pads we keep on the boat that I like to call “diapers.” Fancy name, I know. They’re those oil change pads you get at Auto Zone, CarQuest and the like.

We keep a roll of them on the boat and one always stuffed forward of the engine to capture fluids that might drip from the engine (particularly oil) before they can make it to the bilge.

There’s one!

We used them to capture the transmission fluid when it was leaking during our first Gulf crossing. You might recall the duct tape and Dasani bottle fix … good times!

Seeing as how we had a fresh new leak, we put a fresh diaper in to catch the water trickling in around our stuffing box.

Ahhhh .. that’s better. Motor-all-you-want protection!

We were making our way up the ICW by Sanibel Island where we had planned to spend a day or two at Costa Cayo.

But, that’s the thing about plans … They seem to all go to pot when you’re boat’s leaking! Granted, our leak did seem manageable. It was just a trickle (for now) and whatever made it past the diapers was only going into the bilge, which was pumping out fine as needed, but still. A leak is not something you just want to shrug your shoulders at, say “Ehhh” and keep on cruising. I believe it was a really smart man who said: “If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen out there.”

Brilliant.

So, immediately our priorities changed from finding a neat, new anchorage along the ICW to finding the closest marina possible. Turns out that was in Gasparilla – ironically, where we had our survey/sea trial for the boat back in April, 2013.

Here, we were a year later, bringing her back in, but this time we were hoping it would NOT require a haul-out!

Unfortunately, it was pretty tight in the ICW and we did not have favorable wind to sail, so motoring was the only option. Much like when we had the transmission leak, we were taking turns kneeling down by the engine, watching the drip, and making sure it was remaining JUST a drip. We were making good way through Pine Island Sound and expected to make it into Gasparilla around mid-afternoon.

All was well, right? You would think. Until I made just about the stupidest mistake I have made on the boat. Well … aside from the recent slap on the deck. But, it involved that … kind of. So, we’re motoring through the ICW. Nice and easy, plenty of depth, plenty of fuel, our drip was just dripping and our marina was just a few hours away. Nothing to it. Phillip set the Otto so he could go down below to — take care of some business (that’s all I will say) — and left me to watch our course on deck. To his infinite credit, he showed me the red and green markers in front of us and told me where to keep the boat. Easy peasy. But, this dumb mate decided to do something I will never again do when I am manning the wheel alone. I made a phone call. I know what you’re thinking. Wow … that shouldn’t be too hard. Drive a boat and talk at the same time? Okay, but do recall that I am unfortunately blonde, so walking and talking gives me a little trouble.

Me? I know …

But, apparently driving the boat and talking have proven to be the real challenge. I decided all was well on watch so I could take a moment to call some folks to catch up and let them know we had made it back across the Gulf just fine (well, despite the slight leak issue). But, I didn’t realize at the time that I hadn’t yet actually told anyone the story about my fall. I can safely say it was certainly a frightening, eye-opening experience, one that had left me battered and shaken and thankful to at least be upright, walking and conscious. I was re-living it again for the first time while talking to my Dad. I’m up on deck talking and sort of re-enacting my out-stretched hand for that damn swinging halyard, “I was reaching out, Dad, on my tippy toes, and … “

when I hear Phillip shout up from the head — “Annie, what was that?”

“What was what? I’m just up here talking on the phone.” (stupid First Mate)

“No, THAT. I feel it. Annie, we’re hitting bottom!”

SHIT.

I hobbled back to the cockpit as fast as I could and glanced at the GPS — 5.4 ft. SHIT! While engrossed in my fall story, I had let us drift out of the ICW onto a shoal. I turned the wheel sharp to starboard hoping to pull off. The boat grazed the ground, groaned and started to list to port. I could hear Phillip scrambling up and I knew what I had done. I hollered into the phone “Dad, I gotta go. We ran aground.” SHIT. I was apologizing profusely when Phillip came up. It was just stupid, and I had done it and here we were. But, thankfully we had been here before – running aground is just going to happen when you’ve got a big, honking keel down below. While it’s best to avoid it, of course, it also helps to know what to do when it happens. We had unfortunately hit bottom coming into Clearwater, on our way down to the Keys.

That time, Phillip threw it in reverse and I hung way over the lifelines on the port side to tilt the boat off the shoal. This time, we decided to take it one step further. We swung the boom all the way over to the port side and I hung all of my weight from it. The knee might have been giving me trouble, but the arms were functioning! With the wheel all the way to starboard and the boat listing to port she finally started to ease off and move forward. Within a minute, we were off and motoring forward again. I was sick with guilt, embarrassment, anger. I was SO MAD at myself.

One of my favorite all-time books growing up by the way. (John – you remember this one!). As a kid, I would get SO MAD at myself when I couldn’t do something right. I would stomp and huff and get in a real nasty funk about it – an all-out, over-exaggerated one-woman pout show. I’m sure it was wildly entertaining to those watching me. But I was MAD.

I apologized profusely over and over. Phillip was great about it. He knew it was a mistake and that I was incredibly sorry but we decided – no more phone calls for Annie while on watch. She just can’t handle it … But that did remind me to call my Dad back and let him know we were alright — disaster miraculously averted again. I’m sure hearing me say “we ran aground, I gotta go!” followed by a *click* was not very comforting for him, but he seemed to take it in fine stride. “I figured you were alright. You usually are,” he said. A true statement and a common one he made when I was growing up, typically when I fell off of things as I seemed I did a lot back then too. But, knowing me as well as he did, he told me “It was an accident, though, Annie. Don’t get in funk all day about it.” Good advice. I apologized to Phillip just a couple more times and pouted (just a little) as we made our way into Gasparilla.

I mean … a near-death drop, a leaking boat and a run-aground. What else was in store?