st. petersburg – Have Wind Will Travel

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 17-23, 2013 – The Crossing: Chapter Two – Sailor’s Delight

June 4, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

On the 18th, the crew woke to a lavender sunrise and a light breeze. It was a beautiful day. We were rested and ready to go. We tore through the Hampton Inn schmorgas board breakfast and hit the road. Our sail groupies were eager to make the big send-off.

The parents and I headed to Publix to make the big provisions run and, I have to say, I ran a tight ship. Mary was assigned canned goods and other non-perishables while I ransacked the produce and meat departments. I sent Paul to the back to gather boxes and bags and he cleaned them out. We looked like the old Supermarket Sweep contestants

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgPFlPXK7yc

Minus the matching numbered jersey sweatshirts of course. Man, these people are excited. And, just for an extra laugh (so all my hard blog work doesn’t go to waste) – this is worth a minute of your life, trust me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UO_tm-C7yfU).

I texted Phillip a few pics to make sure I had picked up the right items.

Annie: The pink right?

Phillip: That’s my favorite color.

This was for the shrimp feta pasta we made on Saturday night. Yum! (Although Phillip’s version is way better, this recipe will help get you there: http://www.food.com/recipe/michelles-penne-with-shrimp-tomatoes-and-feta-318465).

364 dollars later (ouch!) we made it to the boat and started stacking up all the goodies in the cockpit. Down below, I was initially a little worried about how we were going to fit everything in the boat. Remember all that crap on the Provisions List? Well, now we had it – we just had to find a place to put it on a 35 foot sailboat. But, I will say, that turned out to be a non-issue. There were more nooks and crannies on that boat than an English muffin. (Which, interestingly enough, are patented and were recently the cause of a top secret muffin scare. Oh my! A riveting read I assure you: http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/money/industries/food/2010-07-29-english-muffin-lawsuit_N.htm). Thankfully, we were able to cram all the crap in all the crannies in record time. We shook hands with Barbara and Jack and engaged in a nice photo op to memorialize the big event.

They were excited for us but a bit sad to see their beautiful boat go. We promised to take good care of her and they assured us if we did, she would certainly take good care of us. We set off around 11:30 a.m. and headed out into Charlotte Harbor.

The sailing was prime that day. The sun was out. The wind was blowing 8-12 knots and the waves were 2-3 feet all afternoon. We started to play around with the sails some and learn the systems. No matter how much you know about sailing, it always takes a bit to learn the rigging when you’re on a new boat. For us, this consisted of a very complicated pull-and-wiggle approach where I would pull or wiggle a line from the cockpit and Mitch, up at the mast, would find the line I was expertly pulling and wiggling and determine what it controlled, the outhaul, or the boom vang or a reefing line, etc. We, of course, forgot most of that when it came time to reef (pull the sail down a bit) but it just takes a while. After we got the sails up and trimmed and on a nice tack, the crew took a collective breath and let the afternoon seep in. We put on some good music, made some snacks (tuna salad sandwiches and homemade guac!) and, as all good sailors do, shed a few clothes.

Some of us relaxed more than others:

Now I did promise a full-fledged Chaucer rendition of Mitch, didn’t I? You readers … so demanding. Mitch. Where do I begin? First, I must say, he’s an incredible friend to give up five days to sail across the open Gulf with us and help get the boat back. As fun as it is, remember what I told you about sailing, it is indeed hard work, and we were out of touch with the rest of the cellular world for days at a time. That’s a big commitment, and there is no way we could have done it without him. There, now that I’ve given Mitch his due praise, let me give him his due description. As I’ve told you, Mitch is all of six feet, four inches. While that may seem pretty normal for a guy … on land … it’s a bit much for a 35-foot sailboat. Mitch lumbered and bumbled around that boat like an elephant going through a carwash. Each step of his foot on the deck sounded like Neal Armstrong landing on the moon. I honestly felt sorry for him while I watched him clamor up and down the companionway stairs and through the hatch. He must have felt like he was crawling around on Playskool equipment.

I think the fear of getting stuck in the hatch prompted him, each time I got up to go down the stairs, to ask me for something he needed from down below, rightly earning him the name “Mitch, While-You’re-Down-There, Roberts” for the duration of the trip. He was a talker and a screamer but he had a heart of gold. Mitch taught me a great deal about sailing and he was a true asset on the trip.

We watched the sun set over the bow of the boat on Thursday evening and congratulated each other on an excellent day of sailing.

I got industrious and labored away on some sweet potato chili in the galley. I managed not to blow the boat up and fed the crew right and proper. It was a sailing miracle! Clearwater was still another 15 hours away and we had a long night of sailing ahead, but the crew was full and content and ready to make way.

April 17-23, 2013 – The Crossing: Chapter One – Sail Groupies and Sardines

May 27, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

So the boat, while ours, was still down in Punta Gorda, with only one way home: across the Gulf of Mexico. The plan was to drive down on the 17th, a Wednesday, set sail on Thursday morning and, over the course of the next five days, sail her back to her new home port in Pensacola. Our first planned stop was Clearwater. That was an excepted 24 hour run from Punta Gorda (Port Charlotte on the map). Then we planned to make the big crossing from Clearwater to Panama City.

(NOAA chart for all you sailing aficionados: http://www.charts.noaa.gov/OnLineViewer/411.shtml).

As you can see, the crossing from Clearwater to Panama City (218 nautical miles total, the majority of which would be spent 100-150 miles offshore – hence the name: The Crossing) was going to be the real beast of the trip. “The hair on the dog” as my Dad would say. Assuming good weather and good speed, The Crossing was expected to take about 48 hours. Yes, you read that right. 48 hours. That’s a day and a half of sailing or motoring, someone always at the helm and another always on watch, i.e., awake, alert and ready to assist as needed in the cockpit or up on deck). That translates to just a few hours’ sleep for each of us over a 48-hour period. In other words, not much. There were also a lot of firsts involved. Our first time on this boat, our first time using the systems and learning the lines and rigging, our first time together as a crew, our first time crossing the Gulf and, not to mention, my first time, ever, making a passage like this on a sailboat. My primary goal was to learn quickly and perform well so I could become a dependable member of the team. Survival was a close second and enjoyment was never a concern. Adrenaline pumped through me daily, jumping and snapping like a dog on a tight leash, eager to feast on the adventure. I was going to throw lines, raise sails and hold the helm with the best of them. Eat salt for breakfast, lunch a dinner. I imagined myself a real sailor.

Of course, in my mind, I was going to look like this:

while doing ALL of that. . . . Totally do-able.

Finally the departure date came and it was time for us to head down to South Florida. Because we had to drive down and sail back, we needed a one-way ticket to Punta Gorda. Cue Phillip’s folks. They did us a real favor by driving us down, but they also wanted to make the passage with us vicariously by meeting up with us at several ports on the way back. Sort of like sailing groupies if you will. We were thrilled to have them on board.

“Mary, you ready to go?” “Why, yes, Annie, I believe so!”

It took some doing, but we finally got everything (recall the lengthy Provisions List) packed up in the rental and hit the road around 1:30 p.m. on the 17th.

Now I want you to note several things in this picture. First, that we had a truck (not an SUV), which means we had to tarp everything down in the back in case it rained and watch it flap and bounce around and generally cause trouble the whole way down. Second, that our trusty second mate, Mitch, whom you see to my left here, is about 6’4” – on a good day. He’s definitely a tall drink of water. Now . . . why is that important? Because that truck Phillip’s dad had rented was about as big as the inside of a sardine can. It was tiny.

Phillip’s dad protested:

But Mitch had to eat his knees (even in the front seat) the entire 9-hour trip. I’d feel sorry for him if he hadn’t been so damn vocal about it. It started the minute we climbed in, and it was enough to drive Phillip to drink!

Me, too, for that matter. Look who’s reaching for a swig. “Save me some!”

But we crammed in there tighter than a van full of illegal aliens crossing the border and started heading south. (Why, here we are getting out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyrugCTk-xk&feature=fvwp&NR=1. Damn border patrol’s always after us!)

We finally made it down to St. Petersburg (an hour shy of Punta Gorda) around 9:00 p.m. and stopped for a feast at Mike’s Café. The chef there made us a special dish when he heard of our sailing endeavors:

That, of course, didn’t last long with this group. We were famished. We finally made it to the hotel around midnight and crashed hard. The plan was to get up around sunrise, get to the boat, get it packed up and get under sail before noon. We probably fell asleep before our heads even hit the pillow. All we could think about was that boat and the open ocean. Our adventure was about to begin.

March 8-10, 2013 – Road Trip: Part Deux – The Pacific Seacraft

April 21, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

Let’s see … where was I? (With all the yard-selling, hog-tying and other Naan-sailing events I’ve been throwing in here, it’s easier than you think to forget). Ahh, yes. Day two of the Road Trip. It was Saturday morning and we woke refreshed in St. Pete, ready to look at two old boats. The 1990 Pacific Seacraft in St. Pete and the Hinterhoeller in Punta Gorda (another hour and a half haul).

So, the 1990 Pacific Seacraft. We were looking at this one to compare it to the 2000 model we had taken out for my first sail a few weeks back. It must be true what they say – you always hold a bit of a soft spot for your first (that or a blissfully-skewed image at least) – because if the 2000 Seacraft was akin to my hot, high school boyfriend, the 1990 was the pot-bellied, balding version of him at the 20-year reunion. Just not the same spark. The 1990 also had not been well-maintained (think hair loss and weight gain for a boat), and it was all wood below so it felt very dark and constricted.

We were interested but certainly not enamored. Thankfully, we had a couple more to look at. We also had a few hours to kill before we had to meet the broker in Punta Gorda, so we wandered around St. Pete a bit and stumbled onto a quaint little Farmer’s Market (http://www.saturdaymorningmarket.com/). You’ll be thrilled to know I found it a complete happenstance that they called it the ‘Saturday Morning Market’ and we were there on a Saturday morning. “Phillip, can you believe that? What a coincidence!” Phillip winced a bit from my wicked intelligence. It is scary sometimes how smart I am. Just scary.

But, we had a fantastic time toodling around that appropriately-named little place. There was great art:

Great food (we split a mouth-watering Margherita pizza):

And great drink (cocunut water right out of a coconut!):

(Yes, that’s Phillip and I. We look that good. It’s the coconut water.)

But, we had to pack it up and get back on the road. The Hinterhoeller had certainly wooed our broker, and we were eager to lay eyes on her. So, it was off to Punta Gorda for round two of the road trip boats.

March 8-10, 2013 – Road Trip: Part One – The Drive!

April 15, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

A lot of people have asked me: “A sailboat? Really? Nights and days on end, stuck together on a tiny, little boat? Annie, are you sure?” And, I can tell you, the best way to find out if you can spend hours cramped in a tiny space with someone without beginning to plot their slow, painful death, is to jump in the car and cover 1,200 miles in one weekend. That will tell you real quick. And tell us it did. Phillip and I, despite all odds, had a fantastic time. Road trip!!

We had three boats to look at in three days:

1. A 1990 Pacific Seacraft (same model as the “Mercedes” we had previously considered but ten years older and about half the price): St. Petersburg, FL.

2. A 1985 Hinterhoeller Niagra (Canadian built, a new one for us, but one our broker repeatedly said he had a “really good feeling about”): Punta Gorda, FL.

3. A 1989 Tayana 37 (recall this is the “tank with sails” builder and this boat reportedly had “all the bells and whistles”): Daytona Beach, FL.

It was going to be quite the haul (know that I debated saying “quite the hull” to really capitalize on a cheesy joke, but I decided to forego it):

http://goo.gl/maps/YTSrB

We left on a Friday afternoon, right after my first visit to the knee doctor. Good news it was not a torn ACL like I thought (I had been down that road before with a gymnastic’s injury to the left knee in high school and knew what an ordeal that would be – not to mention, an appalling hindrance to my sailing endeavors!) but I did sprain just about every ligament in there, particularly my MCL.

My knee was filled with fluid and had a range of only about zero to thirty degrees. Yeah, exactly … not much. But, he drained that puppy and it felt like he sucked the spawn of Satan out of my knee. (Yes, through a syringe. Spawn are small. But, word to the wise, don’t ever Google “spawn of Satan” looking for an image … just don’t). Then he slapped a brace on me and sent me packing. So, Phillip and I, and the newly-engaged torture rack on my leg, hit the road.

We made it down to Ocala, Florida around 9:00 p.m. and stopped at Amrit Palace, a tucked-away little gem of an Indian restaurant (http://amritpalace.com/), to gorge on some incredible chicken tiki masala (recipe for the foodies out there: http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/chicken-tikka-masala) and piles of soft, warm Naan bread. We finally made it to the hotel in St. Pete around 11:00 p.m. that night, exhausted from the trip but eager to get up the next day and poke around on some beautiful boats! The morning would begin with a visit to the 1990 Pacific Seacraft in St. Pete, with the Hinterhoeller in Punta Gorda slated for the afternoon. We crashed hard, without any meds, while visions of sailboats danced in our heads …