Buffett Finale – Skirting the Dauphin Island Regatta Storm

April 25, 2015:

Since our Buffett debauchery started early, our night ended pretty early, too.  After a few hours hooting and hollering and bopping flying beach balls at the Buffett concert, we were beat.

IMG_0514

We crashed hard on the boat but woke well-rested and were glad we still had one more day on our Buffett voyage.  It was Saturday, April 25, 2015.  We had no real plans or agenda other than to make way west during the day over to Red Fish Point or Ft. McRae to spend the night on the hook before heading back to Pensacola on Sunday.  Some coffee was lazily brewed and the docks were meandered before we decided to go ahead and get under way.  We had no idea what was coming that day.  As I said, no one did.  But, by some stroke of luck we decided to toss the lines and head out just in time to tuck in safe for it.

Our de-docking was an unexpected adventure.  Reminds me of Cap’n Ron when he barrelled in, skidded up to the dock and jumped off with a hearty “Hey, hey!” — except ours was unintentional.  We were tucked in here at slip L175, with a strong (17 knot) west wind on our nose.

EastBasin2

Our plan was to back out of the slip, ease the stern around to port, then head back out to the ICW.  Simple, right?  Sure, in theory–not in execution.  We started backing out just fine, got all the lines untied and on the boat and were making our way out.  I’m at the bow, ready to push off poles if need be and the bow (not the stern) starts turning strangely to port.

EastBasin3

“Are you going to pull back in?” I holler to Phillip, a dock line in hand.  He doesn’t answer me immediately.  I know not to ask a million questions when he’s struggling with a situation like this, but I did feel the need to ask the one important one.  “What’s the plan?”  I can see him looking around, handling the wheel, fettering out what the wind is going to let the boat do.  But, seconds are passing, he’s pretty much all the way out now, stern to the ICW facing the dead end wall with what does not appear to be enough room to turn around, especially with the west wind and a wall of big, expensive boats behind us.

EastBasin4

“Nope,” he yells back after a few calculated seconds.  “We’re just going to back out of here.”

Oh Lord.  I stood at the bow, ready to push off of boats on our port side where the wind was blowing us, ready to throw a line if need be, ready to–I don’t know, really, do anything necessary I suppose.  But, none of it was necessary.  Once Phillip got some speed, he was able to handle the boat perfectly in reverse.  You should have seen the folks at the dock watching us, slowly easing their coffee mugs down, cocking their heads to the side, eyeing us strangely.

EastBasin5

You would have thought Jimmy Buffett himself was backing out of there with the looks we were getting.  I’m sure it was a sight to see, us backing out like that.  Once I could see Phillip had it all under control, I kind of posed up at the bow, like a hood ornament, waving and smiling.  We were rock stars in reverse!

Phillip backed us up into the ICW, clocked the bow around and we set off.  It was around 10:00 a.m.  With the steady wind on our stern, we threw out the Jenny for a fantastic day of sailing.  This little box-of-a-boat passed us along the way (headed to Pirate’s Cove I’m sure).

IMG_0522

We sailed all the way down the ICW, through all the turns and dog legs and everything–never cranking the engine once.  It was an awesome day on the water.  The winds ranged between 14 and 19 knots, strong, but, on our stern, they were nice.  We sailed right up to Red Fish Point and were picking out a spot to drop our hook around 3:00 p.m.  Looking at the texture and chop on the water, though, Phillip was starting to question our decision to anchor there.

“We’re pretty exposed here,” he said, looking at the weather and radar on his phone.  I had to agree with him, bouncing around up at the bow, ready to drop the hook but seeing exactly what he was talkinga about–textured water, white caps, etc.  “I think we ought to pull into Ft. McRae tonight.  Get a little more protection,” Phillip decided.

“Fine with me,” I hollered back and set my anchor gear down so we could make the 15 minute motor into Ft. McRae.  Right about that time, Phillip started getting severe weather alerts on his phone.  He certainly wasn’t questioning his decision to pull into Ft. McRae then.  When we saw what was coming on the radar, we kinew we needed some shelter.  We tucked in on the south side of Sand Island and dropped 100 feet of chain to be safe.

The scene in Ft. McRae was deceiving.  There was a guy kite-boarding on the east side of Sand Island, several families set up near the fort with tents and tables and chairs and such.  It was cheery.  We saw a big foil kite launch over on the west side of Sand Island so I decided to go for a quick run on my paddleboard to check out our neighbors and the goings-on.

IMG_0532

The guy with the foil kite was paragliding–jumping off the sandy dune cliff on the west side of the island and letting the steady west wind push him back into the soft sand.  It looked like he was just getting the hang of it and had found a good safe place to practice.  He was fun to watch.  I found some buddies of ours who anchor out at Ft. McRae often and said a quick hello as I was paddling by.  They were on a trawler and had a center console rafted up to it.  An older couple sat leisurely on the cockpit of their Catamaran on the south side of us, sipping cocktails and watching the sun drop.  The guy kite-boarding on the east side was zipping back and forth, making some nice runs with the west wind.  It was a quick, 15 minute paddle, but you would never have guessed any severe weather was coming with the look of things in the anchorage.

Phillip and I agreed when I made it back to the boat that it was high time for a cocktail.   I mean, we had just dropped the hook.  It is protocol.  But, before I even got the paddleboard strapped to the stern rail and got back into the boat, Phillip got another alert on his phone.  Severe weather alert No. 2 went out, but this time they were reporting the potential for hale and winds of 70 mph.

It was a quick consensus that we had better drop some more chain before we made those drinks.  I headed topside and we let out another 25 feet, so 125 feet total and snubbed her off with our Mantus like we always do.  By then, the sky had darkened.

IMG_0536

Ominous black clouds hung on the north horizon, and the wind, blowing around 18-20 knots by then, took on an eerie chill.  Phillip and I could both sense it coming.  I wish our barometer on the boat still worked.  I would have liked to have seen what was registering.

IMG_0537

We started bringing cushions down below, shutting hatches, readying the boat for a storm.  Our actions were precise and swift, our nerves pricked with energy.  When we heard more chain rattle out of our buddy’s trawler up ahead, a sense of community urgency started to register.  People on the beach quickly hustled kids and buckets and toys back to their boats as the wind continued to build.  Center consoles and smaller motor boats started zipping by, parents huddling children and holding onto dogs for what was sure to be a bumpy ride home.  We saw a sailboat barreling in the inlet to Ft. McRae and watched as they hauled up next to us, kicked the stern around and started dropping anchor the second after their bow fell behind us.  I was worried–okay irritated at first–knowing we had some crazy wind coming and now we had a boat not 30 feet away to worry about.  But, you could tell by their movements that they were sharp sailors, doing exactly what needed to be done to protect themselves and their vessel in the coming storm.

Phillip and I stood in the cockpit, donning our foul weather gear over our swimsuits, cocktails filling the last thought on our minds and watched as the rains began to engulf the boats ahead of us to the west.  Then the wind came–30 knots, 35, 40, 42.

“HOLD!” Phillip shouted into the wind, his thunderous voice about as useful as a spit into the ocean.  But, it was all we could do.  The only thing that was going to save our boat was that anchor holding.  I have never felt such power on the boat from wind alone.  We were heeled on anchor.  Our boat was swinging so violently to the north and south on its pivot point that it registered a hull speed of 1.2, again while on anchor.  The wind didn’t blow, it howled, over the mast, the dodger, every shroud, before it shrieked past us in the cockpit.  I wish I had videoed it.  I really do.  But, documenting is really the last thing on your mind when the only thing saving your boat from popping loose, smashing into the boat behind you and dragging both vessels to shore in a sickening cacophony of banging aluminum and crunching fiberglass is one little anchor in the mud and some chain.

“HOLD!” I hollered it with him.  It seemed to help because she did.  Thank the stars in heaven she did, even with the bow dipped down so far water cascaded up over the pulpit and the toe rails.  It was a strange sight to see all of us cowered in our cockpits or looking out port lights just watching one another.  I imagine it’s the same look of helpless terror you would share with someone on an elevator that’s dropping uncontrollably.  Phillip and I watched with bitten lips as the head sail on that Catamaran south of us started to flip and flail and wiggle its way out.  As soon as it started, it wasn’t ten seconds before it unfurled halfway out and ripped to shreds.  The couple emerged and put on a frantic show, the man up at the forestay trying to wrestle the sail in 35 knots of wind, the woman back in the cockpit trying to sheet it in.  I had just paddled by them not 20 minutes earlier and admired their serenity, sipping cocktails in the cockpit waiting for the sun to set.  No one knew the fury that was about to be unleashed.

Tents ripped up and rolled along the beach.  Little buckets and toys and cans raced and tumbled along the sand.  We could see the hands and faces of the guys on the sailboat that had scooted in last minute pressed up against the port lights, looking out.  The captain would pop his head up every once in a while quickly out of the companionway to look around as his boat whipped around as violently as ours.  Then the paddle board zipped across our view.  Stupidly, we had left it hooked by its springy leash to the stern rail and it was now airborne, 10 feet behind the boat, hovering and spinning like a pinwheel on a windy day.  Like I said, I wish I had videoed it, particularly because I had my phone right there with me.  I kept refreshing the radar to see the blob of shit that was upon us.  It was huge but thankfully moving fast, up and to the north.  I had at least thought to take a picture of the radar:

IMG_0539

We were just on a little sliver of green on the south side of the storm and we were getting 40 knots?  I can’t imagine what it felt like for the folks in Mobile Bay at the Dauphin Island regatta.  Truth be told, I don’t think I ever want to.  One of the last gusts on the boat registered at 44 knots.  That’s approximately 55 mph.  Ass-puckering is what that is.  It’s the most wind I have ever felt on our boat and the most I ever want to feel.  The anchor wailed and groaned and the bow dipped, but she held.  Thank God she held.  And, thankfully, the storm passed through quickly.  It was about 10 minutes of terror and then it was gone.  I finally thought, after the worst of it had passed to get a little footage and video, but it in no way does it justice.

The guys in the sailboat next to us starting easing out, blinking and looking around, taking it all in.  They quickly determined the coast was clear and started working, just as efficiently as they had to drop the anchor, to raise it and get the heck out of there.  The captain gave us a knowing nod of his head as he passed by.  We had survived it.  We had no idea at the time what went down in Mobile Bay and the people that were fighting and flailing in the water at that very moment.  We just knew we had 30 more knots of wind on the boat than we wanted but we had survived it.  Phillip and I slowly started bringing up cushions, opening hatches, getting things back to normal.  Phillip checked the anchor line and snubber to make sure we hadn’t suffered any damage at the bow.

IMG_0542

Afterward, we started joking around about that cocktail: “Okay, now, it is definitely time for that drink!”

And, as it always seems, nature likes to remind you sometimes, what had just 30 minutes prior been a treacherous scene–thick black clouds, sheets of rain, driving wind–cleared to reveal one of the most beautiful and serene sunsets we have ever seen in Ft. McRae.  Aside from the littered beach and the shredded foresail on the Cat next to us, it was like it had never happened.

IMG_0559 IMG_0556 IMG_0555 IMG_0554

We fired up the grill, cooked some chicken and kind of sat wondering if it had in fact happened.

IMG_0553 IMG_0561 IMG_0562

I know what we experienced was pretty insignificant compared to the mariners who were sailing, full canvas up, in Mobile Bay in the Dauphin Island regatta when that wicked storm hit.  They reported winds of 73 knots, numerous passengers overboard, many boats capsized, damaged or lost.  Here is some footage if you haven’t yet seen it:

I believe it’s been reported as the most deadly regatta race tragedy to occur in the states.  Looking back on it, I can’t believe the day started so amiably–Phillip and I just sipping coffee, meandering the docks, lazily tossing the lines and making our way down the ICW.  The fact that we made it safely into Ft. McRae before the bottom fell out was pure luck–not an ounce of sail savvy involved.  The decision not to anchor at Red Fish Point, though, I will say was all Phillip.  He’s good about checking the weather before we drop the hook, trying to see what winds are predicted and whether we are in a sufficiently protected area to weather them.  (I’m usually planning my post-drop cocktail … )

I am also glad we decided to throw out another 25 feet of chain for a total of 125 feet of rode out.  That is more than we would usually need in Ft. McRae but I’m certain it played a factor in our anchor’s ability to, as Phillip said, “HOLD!”  We also had the anchor snubbed up, which we always do with a Mantus hook and rope cleated at the bow.  That much weight and pull would not have been good for the winlass I’m sure.

Now, leaving the paddle board attached to the stern rail was just dumb.  That thing could have easily ripped off and been halfway across the bay in 10 minutes.  That’s an expensive toy to lose to a stupid mistake.  But, it would have been a small price to pay for the storm we were able to weather.  I hated to see the couple on the Catamaran lose their head sail.  I don’t know if there is anything different they could have done.  Sometimes these things just happen.  They can’t be stopped.  But, it did make us think we could have easily put some extra bungees around our head sail because you just never know.  Looking back, we also probably should have put on our PFDs and grapped the EPIRB just in case.  You might think that would be a bit much in the protected cove of Ft. McRae, but, with those winds, you could get sucked out and blown across the Bay pretty easily.  It’s easy to panic in times like that and waste precious energy trying to swim against the conditions.  We heard many of the folks who went overboard in the Dauphin Island regatta weren’t wearing life vests.  Also, several who were rescued from the water were found only because they had cell phones or hand-held GPS devices on them that they used to help direct the rescue boats to their location.

In all, we took away several important lessons from the storm.  However, while I hate to say it, it’s just true–for the most part, it was pure luck and that’s just a big part of it.  We had several friends who we discovered later had been racing in the Dauphin Island Regatta when the storm hit and, though shaken, reminded and humbled at the power and magnitude of the weather, they all agreed–they were just plain lucky to be alive.  But, take it as it comes.  If you’re going to get out there and sail, you’re going to run into storms and, while you can be smart and cautious, often the determining factor of whether or not you survive them unscathed is just plain luck.

 

Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.

Pat4

Bon Buffett Voyage – Day Four: Buffett Brings Debauchery

April 24, 2015:

While we love big bunnies and balloon animals as much as anyone, we were far more excited about the night we had ahead.  It was finally time for Buffett’s big debut!  It was Phillip’s birthdday, we had a big steak dinner planned and every intention of blowing the evening out with a mayhem-filled night of debauchery at the Buffett concert.

Buffett said, “I want to see YOU there!”

td_buf

You got it Jimmy.

Funny thing was, though, the folks at the marina told us Jimmy actually spent a good bit of the morning riding around the Wharf grounds in a golf cart asking meandering Wharf patrons where the concert was and when it started.  As you know or have probably heard, Mr. Buffett likes to stay non-descript.  He’s not much for the flash and flare of a paparazzi lifestyle, so he does a good job of blending in.  Word on the street was, he would pick the obvious Parrotheads–those walking around decked out in Landshark hats, Tommy Bahamas shirts and Hawaiian leis–yet they had no clue they were talking to the man himself, their idol, their icon, Jimmy Buffett.  Some pointed him politely toward the amphitheater, some gave him wrong times for the concert and some even blew him off a bit, not wanting any interruptions while they were sauntering around in their blissful Buffett zone.  That man seems to have fun with his celebrity status.

In addition to the Sunset Festival, the Wharf also had the Bama Coast Cruise going on.  It was pretty cool walking around checking out all of these old, cherried-out cruisers along the main drive.

IMG_0467 IMG_0468 IMG_0469 IMG_0472

I liked the ones that were decked out with big stuffed characters from the olden days!

The Grinch:

IMG_0470

Wiley Coyote:

IMG_0471

Little known fact – the RoadRunner is the state bird of my home state, New Mexico.  Road-kill coyote might be the state meat.  I’ll have to verify that.

As if Buffett and the Bama Coast Cruise weren’t enough, they also had the famous Flora-Bama Mullet Toss going on that weekend too.  I highly recommend this redneck tradition.  If the flailing fish aren’t entertaining enough, I guarantee the groomed mullets and tramps stamps will be.  We take our fish flinging pretty seriously around here.

_V3A6754_10073736504_l

I should know — Yours Truly placed second in the female 26-39 division at the Mullet Toss in 2011.  Seriously, I can’t make this stuff up:

Mullet

Rather than a redneck parade at the Flora-Bama, we spent the day lounging at the Oasis.  I mean … who wouldn’t?  The place is gorgeous.

dsc_1248

I decided to dawn a special birthday suit for the occasion — not that one, this one!

IMG_0483

My “Captain Jo” hat my brother got me for my birthday last year.  It’s kind of become the birthday hat.  We certainly got some funny looks at the pool with it, which made it totally worth it.  Thank you John!!

IMG_0484

After a few hours around the lazy river, it was back to the boat to spruce up for our big b’day dinner.  Where were we going, you might ask?  Only the best restaurant at the Wharf.  Well, only the best restaurant anywhere — Chez Phillipe!  Phillip really is a phenomenal chef so when we cook, at home or on the boat, we’re pretty much guaranteed the best meal in “town.”  What had he planned to cook up for his big day?

BEEF!  It’s what’s for dinner.

IMG_0501

Sure beats Roadkill Coyote!

The smell of it, though, must have been wafting through the air, because no sooner than we had pulled our steaks out to sear we get a knock on the hull.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out.  “Have you seen my lost shaker of salt?”

IMG_0494

“Oh, never mind.  I found it hanging around my neck!”  Elle.  You gotta love a woman that makes a hat for every occasion.  Fourth of July:

11350545_10205539982957752_4608235071770856545_n

St. Patty’s Day:

1796628_10205343102110785_6189243986339026122_n

And, this here was her Jimmy Buffett Landshark hat.  She said she couldn’t find a shark, so a stuffed dolphin would have to do.

IMG_0492

A worldwide traveler, accomplished sailor and seasoned skier, Elle is first and foremost a hoot.  She and her friend Terry were going to the Buffett concert, too.  They stopped by the Plaintiff’s Rest to say hello on their way to the amphitheater, so we did what we normally do when guests arrive–promptly make them our famous house drink, the “Oh Shiiiit!” (five i’s).

IMG_0490 IMG_0495 IMG_0497

We had a fun visit with the gals over cocktails, but it was getting close to Buffett time and we had some fine steaks to get sizzling.  “It’s been fun ladies, but we need to get back to the beef.”  We bid Elle and Terry adieu and set to dinner.

IMG_0502 IMG_0505

I will say, Phillip cooked up a perfect piece of meat.  It was a birthday feast indeed.

IMG_0507

Our bellies full, we were ready for a full night of Buffett shenanigans.  We walked over to the amphitheater a little before 7:00 pm to check out the crowd and nab our seats.

Stage

There were at least 10 beach balls being bounced around and they stayed afloat pretty much the entire concert.  It was just as much fun to watch and swat those things around as it was to watch Jimmy on the stage.  You had to keep your hands up and a sharp lookout or you would get … well bonked in the head by an inflatable ball.  We soon stopped worrying about it and just let the balls fly while we shouted along to some of Buffett’s finest!

IMG_0511

“You got fins to the left, fins to the right and you’re the only girl in town!”  

Buffett was a lot of fun.  He didn’t play Margaritaville (probably because he’s sick of it), and he threw in a couple of oldies but goodies to shake things up — Stars Fell on Alabama was interesting.  Southern Cross was a big hit and probably the highlight for Phillip and I as that song really resonates with us.  The Buffett concert was the perfect end to our birthday bonanza.  We had one more night on the trip and were planning to head out in the morning to motor sail back to Red Fish Point to spend one last quiet night on the hook.  The next day was Saturday, April 25, 2015.  I’m sure many of you recognize the date.  We had no idea what was coming.  No one did.  But, we definitely found ourselves on the deadly outskirts of that storm late in the afternoon.  While we, thankfully, weathered it safely, we witnessed some damage, some close calls and learned a few lessons, which I will share.

At the time, though, we had no clue what the next day had in store.  We were shouting Buffet lyrics, bopping beach balls and dancing the night away.

IMG_0514 IMG_0515

d21b86143cab33233180726061cf419c9b

 

Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.

Pat4

Bon Buffett Voyage – Day Two: Sheer Entertainment

April 22, 2015:

I don’t know if you guys can handle this–a dolphin display, an aerial acrobatics show, and a ukulele concert.  Light the flame-throwers, blow the pyrotechnics, it’s time to get RAW!

Jeff-Hardy-&-Triple-H_on_Stage,-RLA-Melb-10.11.2007

Yeeaaaaahhhhh!

Alright, there were no pyrotechnics, but everything else I mentioned is right here baby!  Day two of the Bon Buffett Voyage we woke to dolphin’s breath on the starboard stern.

IMG_9951

They were swirling and stirring and (well, probably doing what we know dolphins love to do) for a good ten minutes while Phillip and I sipped our coffee in the cockpit.

IMG_9946

It was a surprisingly cool morning in Ft. McRae with the cloud cover.  Nice for lounging, but we were hoping to see some more input into the solar panels.  We knew, though, that we would be putting some juice in during our motor that day, so a cool morning to read and write topside was welcome.  Our next stop on the trip?  Ingram’s Bayou:

chart

We weighed anchor and threw up the sails pretty early so we could spend the majority of the day making the fun three-hour jaunt to the Bayou.  The wind filled in nicely and we ended up having a pretty sporty little sail over.

IMG_9913IMG_9898

The last time we had dropped the hook in Ingram’s was during our Thanksgiving trip 2013 and she appeared to be just as we remembered her–pristine and serene.  We nestled in and Phillip set off to paddle our perimeter, check depths and poke around back in the bayou.

IMG_0311 IMG_0318 IMG_0319

What did I do?  Pretended to write until he left …

“You go right on ahead, babe.  I’ve got plenty of blogging to get to here.”

IMG_0303

Apparently those are my hangover eyes!

But, the minute he was gone, I set up the camera so I could video myself practicing his birthday present.  Was it this?

IMG_0340

No, that came later.  That’s just everyday Annie stuff hanging around all upside-down-like.  He’s used to that.  No, for the Captain, I had to go all out.  Do something he would know took time, effort and energy.  I spent the better part of the week before we left trying to learn a new song to play him on the uke!

Uke

He had been pretty keen on Riptide by Vance Joy, so I got all disciplined with it and made myself practice, practice, practice until I had it … well, had it at least recognizable.  At least I hoped.  I decided to film one version all the way through while he was gone in case I got all fumbly and bumbly while playing it for him and goobered the whole thing up (happens all the time).  And, don’t worry, I royally goobered this one pretty good, but I’ll share it anyway for your entertainment.  I have such a hard time singing at a different beat than I’m playing.  It’s like rubbing your stomach and patting your head.  I can only do it if I can find a match on the down beat-slash-rub.  Anyway, for what it’s worth — enjoy!

And, just for fun, here’s a gal actually doing this song justice on the uke.  She seems a little off when the video starts (I thought she was about to play while high on pain meds as some ice bucket dare or something) but then she nailed it.  This is what it was supposed to sound like:

[And, as an aside, if you’re in any way thinking about picking up the uke, I highly recommend it.  You can get one at pretty much any little music store for around $50, it’s small and travels well, and it’s really pretty easy to start learning basic songs during your first lesson yet still challenging enough to push yourself on harder ones.  Great, free entertainment and mental stimulation.  I mean, why not?]

So, when the captain made his way back to the boat, I set us up on the foredeck with two deck chairs, two glasses of champagne and proceeded with the live version.  I actually didn’t do half bad so the video wasn’t necessary.  I even inspired Captain himself to give it a little go.  (Minus the wailing pelican in the background … aka me!) his show wasn’t half bad either.

Needless to say, we had fun with it.  But, post-concert was the real treat.  The last time I had hung the silks on the sailboat for an aerials session was November of last year (far too long!).  The conditions were perfect that evening in Ingram’s Bayou–calm, cool and still–for a sunset session.  Captain helped me rig it up and I set to it.  It was even more fun now that I had learned so many new tricks!

IMG_0328 IMG_0331 IMG_0336 IMG_0340 IMG_0341 IMG_0345 IMG_0351 IMG_0358 IMG_0360 IMG_0368IMG_0362

We totally need to install some pyrotechnics on the boat for this.  Get all New World Order with it.  BOOM!

In all, it was an incredibly fun day.  It makes me think back on all the times people have asked me — “Don’t you get bored just sitting around on the boat all day?”  Rather than enlighten them, it makes me want to say — “Yeah, it’s just awful.  I’d much rather be working.”  Best to keep the secret.  We don’t want these anchorages to get too crowded.  Ha!  We like the serenity.

img_5221

We cheersed the sunset and set to grilling up two killer salmon filets for dinner.

IMG_0370 IMG_0371 IMG_0373 IMG_0374

Oh, and definitely give this a try – a super-easy, super-flavorful (and light) sauce for fish, veggies, white meat, etc.  Make it to taste, but it’s roughly 1/4 cup Greek yogurt, 1 tbsp dijon mustard, and dried dill weed.  Perhaps Day Two dinner deserves some pyrotechnics too.  BOOM!

IMG_0381

 

Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.

Pat4

Bon Buffett Voyage – Day One: A Shoddy Shifter

April 21, 2015:

Last year, we spent the Captain’s birthday pillaging the shops of Duval Street, searching for “zee best key lime pie on zee island!”  We were smack-dab, mid-way through our 2014 trip to the Florida Keys and celebrating both the journey and Phillip’s momentous event on the colorful streets of Key West.

img_9587

This year, when we learned Buffett was putting on a concert in Orange Beach, fortuitously on the very day of our dear Captain’s birth (April 24, 2015), we knew exactly how we would be spending it — on a Bon Buffett Voyage baby!

Buffett

Oh yeah.  Our sentiments as well Mr. Buffett.

As soon as the tickets went up for sale, we had three laptops open refreshing, clicking and ready to buy.  Thankfully, we were able to snag two tickets without much trouble in this general vicinity:

Stage

 

(Yes, I do wear my hair in a high pony with a blue bow … sometimes.)

We planned to head out a couple of days before the 24th and stop at some of our favorite local anchorages along the way — Red Fish Point right outside of Ft. McRae, where we drop the hook often, and Ingram’s Bayou, where we holed up last winter during our Thanksgiving Voyage — before we made our way over to The Wharf for the Buffett concert.

Chart

Very un-fortuitously, though, when we called The Wharf on the day we bought the tickets to reserve a slip the night of the concert, the lady on the phone just laughed at me, actually, it was more of a guffaw.  “You’re funny,” she said.  Apparently, the day the concert was simply announced, their slips filled up and a waiting list was started for us Johnny Come-Latelies.  But, we signed up, figuring we had nothing to lose.  As Number 93 on the Wharf Waiting List, though, it didn’t look like we had much to gain, either.  So, we made a back-up reservation at the Homeport Marina with a plan to either dinghy to the concert (which would be quite a dinghy haul) or just cab it.  That would also let us check out Jimmy’s sister, Lucy Buffett’s, place, Lulu’s at Homeport Marina.  Either way, we were sailing our boat west for the Captain’s b’day, and we were going to that concert.   “You’re Funny” Fran wasn’t going to stop us!

We also planned to finally install and sport our shiny new shifter arms for the trip!  We’ve had these flaking-away old rubber-coated ones for a while,

IMG_0241 IMG_0244

And, it just so happened, the shiny new engraved set Phillip had ordered arrived in the mail day before we were set to head off on our voyage!

IMG_0240

We couldn’t wait.  We slapped those puppies on while we were provisioning and readying the boat for shove-off the next morning.  They slipped right on perfectly and sure spruced up the helm.  We were pimping now!

IMG_0251 IMG_0256

Unfortunately, we weren’t pimping for very long.  The next morning we shoved off from the dock, smooth as silk, the Captain executing a perfect exit, but when the bow swung out and he tried to go forward, there was nothing perfect about it.  I was tying up the docklines at the bow, but I could tell something was definitely wrong when the boat started to loop around to do another circle.  I looked back at Phillip, and saw he was shifting and fidgeting with the new shifter arm for the transmission.

“I can’t … it’s … it won’t engage!” he shouted as I scrambled back to the cockpit.  The problem was clear.  Because of the unique location of the poles on our helm, we couldn’t push the shifter arm forward enough to actually engage the transmission into forward.

bang

I won’t share the expletives we did in that moment.  We tried to take the shifter arm off quickly, hoping we could adjust it but there was no adjusting to be done.  It fit in only one position only–the no-forward-for-you position.  There we were, out there, moving, with only neutral and reverse as options.  Thankfully, the wind was on our side and she was pushing the boat forward enough to allow Phillip to steer and slow us down as needed with reverse.  And, thankfully again (trust me, I realize how incredibly lucky we were that this worked out the way that it did), there was an open dock available just up the way.  Phillip said he could pull up next to it so we could dock and he could run back up to our apartment to grab the old shifter arms which he had also thankfully (yes, a third) saved in case we needed them as spares.

De-docking

I ran back up to the bow as we trudged forward with only neutral and reverse and re-tied the bow lines so we could use them to re-dock.  And, I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but docking is just not my favorite thing, particularly when it’s somewhere we’ve never docked before and the winds are pushing us unfavorably (not to mention when we’re in a bit of a panic because our freaking shifter arm won’t work and we, you know, can’t go forward).  I know the Captain is doing a lot (okay, pretty much everything) back there at the helm, but I can’t help but feel like a lone soldier up there on the deck, lines in hand, jumping off, scrambling to a cleat, strategically tying at just the right length and in just the right order, making sure our 15,000 pound boat neither touches the dock where there is no fender nor blows off out of line-tossing distance.  It’s just stressful, that’s all I can say.  My heart beats a thousand times a minute and I jump around like leprechaun on LSD.  Thankfully, though (for the fourth and final time) we were able to ease up to the dock and secure her safely while we swapped the shifter arms out.  Now — lesson of this little story?  Always jump around like a lit-up leprechaun when docking?  No (but good guess).  To the extent possible, always check newly-installed equipment to make sure it does what it’s supposed to do before you leave the dock.  You probably already knew that, but I’m happy to share our minor follies in case it helps some other poor sailor out there one day.

So, with our old very un-pimp shifter arms back in place and our first heart-pumping adventure of the trip under our belts (although it would be nowhere close to the last), we finally headed out into the bay to begin our Bon Buffett Voyage.  It was a pretty sporty sail that day, but our boat romped and played in the waves like it was just good elementary school fun.  “Tag, you’re it!” she’ll shout at the waves and romp away.  She loves the salty spray!

IMG_9898 IMG_9913 IMG_9914

IMG_0266IMG_0268

Now, this might have been with a little help from the tide going out, but I don’t care.  At one point, we were making 8.3!!

IMG_0271

We made it to Red Fish Point in record time and prepared to drop the hook.

IMG_0274

Those gloves help me grip both the anchor chain AND my rum drink!  Both equally important.

The sun started to dip down just as we got her nice and secure for our first night of the voyage.

IMG_0281 IMG_0279 IMG_0282 IMG_0289 IMG_0291

We cheers-ed to the first night of the voyage and let some soft Buffett play in the background while we kept a look-out for a green flash on the horizon.

 

Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.

Pat4