I use to be proud of my solar panels - a 48 volt, 200 watt panel for the 8 motor batteries and a 12 volt, 50 watt panel for the 2 house batteries.
When it comes to producing electricity here in Boot Key Harbor I am small change. Here amid the cruisers, many have 3 or 4 - 75 to 100 watt panels plus a wind generator. One motorsailor has 2,000 watts of panels on his pilothouse top and his bimini. He can run his waterheater plus his air conditioner every day off solar power. The wind generators are interesting in that they need about 10 knots of wind to start producing, but at around 25 knots they howl like a helicopter taking off, then the blades feather and they power down to protect the machinery. After a few minutes they cycle back up and repeat the process.
If that's not enough most cruisers are equiped with a Honda 2000i generator. At least I can hold my head up in that regard! Today is a second cloudly day with just a bit of wind so the harbor will softly hum tonight with the sound of all those quiet Hondas (including mine) producing the needed amps.
Update Wednesday:
Last night, actually about 2:30 am, the wind picked up and a storm rolled in. A few readers may be aware of my usual sound sleep trait. This one woke me up. The wind peaked at 117 miles per hour. all boats were heeled way over, a few were knocked down, and one turtled. Afterwards the harbor waters were littered with deck cans, fenders, and hatches. We have experienced 60 mile winds a couple times. It is impossible to describe 117 mile winds. We had to shout inside a closed boat. Everything, including us, was vibrating. Rain was moving horizontally and hitting like BB's.
Many dingys were flipped and outboards submerged. A lot of guys spent the morning pickling outboards in an attempt to save them. Pickling is removing the salt water, cleaning with fresh water, then oiling the motor inside and out. Sometimes this attempt is successful. We always tie our dingy with forward and stern lines to cleats on the side. We could see it airborne but it survived because of the 2 point tie. Those who secured dinks with a single line to the stern suffered for it.
We had closed and secured our bimini Tuesday evening so it was saved - several lost theirs.
The folks in the marina will still try for a Thanksgiving pitch-in dinner at the Dockside Bar & Grill even though it is about half down. When De Anne and I dingied over a little while ago they were still clearing debris. I'll get some turkey somehow!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
And now, back to the fun......
We took a day trip to Pigeon Key, orginally settled as a work camp for the railroad. Now a delightful small island restored with it's historic past still evident in a few remaining buildings.
The pictures speak for themselves.
The island landing :
Blue Heron waiting motionless for lunch to swim by:
Our picnic lunch view:
De Anne swims with the fish (and one nurse shark):
This is a Christmas Palm - kinda obvious name isn't it?:
The pictures speak for themselves.
The island landing :
Blue Heron waiting motionless for lunch to swim by:
Our picnic lunch view:
De Anne swims with the fish (and one nurse shark):
This is a Christmas Palm - kinda obvious name isn't it?:
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A few technical details
It's not all fun and games in sunny Florida. Replacing the burned out battery charger has been a comedy of errors - I just haven't been laughing.
The new charger was a special order from West Marine. It was to be delivered within 5business days. After a week I called the store and they said it was on the way. After 2 weeks I went to the store in person and leaned over the manager's desk until he tracked it down. It had been delivered to a sunny locale alright - California. By the time I got it the charger had traveled more miles than I could hope to cover in a couple years.
Meanwhile, after ignoring several emails from me the Zivan charger folks got a rather biting email from me and decided I needed to send it in for repair. After a hundred dollar repair and $60 in shipping I got it back. Unfortunately the burned out connector had 2 pieces and they forgot to include 1 of the 2 connectors in the return package. They readily admitted the mistake and when I requested they send it overnight they refused unless I paid the shipping charge. The conversation when downhill rapidly. I found an electric car shop in Marathon who will have the part for me this Friday.
We are seeing a small glimmer of a weather window opening this weekend. We are trying not to get too hopeful too soon, after all (I know I sound like a broken record) NOAA weather reports often lie.
The Marathon dingy dock at an uncrowded moment:
The new charger was a special order from West Marine. It was to be delivered within 5business days. After a week I called the store and they said it was on the way. After 2 weeks I went to the store in person and leaned over the manager's desk until he tracked it down. It had been delivered to a sunny locale alright - California. By the time I got it the charger had traveled more miles than I could hope to cover in a couple years.
Meanwhile, after ignoring several emails from me the Zivan charger folks got a rather biting email from me and decided I needed to send it in for repair. After a hundred dollar repair and $60 in shipping I got it back. Unfortunately the burned out connector had 2 pieces and they forgot to include 1 of the 2 connectors in the return package. They readily admitted the mistake and when I requested they send it overnight they refused unless I paid the shipping charge. The conversation when downhill rapidly. I found an electric car shop in Marathon who will have the part for me this Friday.
We are seeing a small glimmer of a weather window opening this weekend. We are trying not to get too hopeful too soon, after all (I know I sound like a broken record) NOAA weather reports often lie.
The Marathon dingy dock at an uncrowded moment:
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Cruisers day
A day in the life of a cruiser (at least De Anne and Merrick on Tuesday) began at 7:00 am with coffee in the cockpit. We did a little cleanup and reading until the daily Cruisers Net at 9:00 am which covers upcoming events, buying and selling gear, weather, and any help needed.
We packed a lunch and drove the dingy out Sisters Creek, through the mangroves, to Sombrero Beach. There is a small dingy beach just inside the ocean cut where we landed, stripped the dingy and flipped it over to scrape and brush away the saltwater flora and fauna that had made a home on the bottom of our dingy during the past two weeks.
De Anne hard at work:
I napped in the shade of a palm tree while De Anne strolled the beach. After her return I watched a fisherman land and very carefully unhook a two foot shark. Sneaking back to our palm tree - not too difficult in sand - I caught De Anne in a rare moment of calm repose:
We returned to the boat in early afternoon and made a trip to the marina for showers. With the mooring all boats get an access card for the restrooms. There are about a dozen individual bathrooms. You slide the card, open the door slowly so you can shut it quick if someone screams or worse, invites you in to wash their back, although most folks remember to throw the dead bolt once inside rendering the card useless for that door.
We ran into Peter who had just flown back from a long weekend in Trinidad and made plans to go to the Hurricane for dinner. Tut, a local mooring field resident, had alerted us to dollar taco night so the four of us had a fun evening at the local watering hole.
The wind has finally calmed down so our evening dingy ride back to the boat was our first one in days that did not end with "dingy bottom". This is a condition where powering through choppy water leaves you with a saltwater rinse by the time you return home.
We read for a while and called it a night, retiring to our gently rocking berth.
It's hard to call this a typical day because there is always something different going on or chores to do but it is usually relaxed and free-flowing whenever we are docked, moored, or anchored in a safe place like Marathon.
Sister Creek is a little wider than the Indiana version of creeks:
We packed a lunch and drove the dingy out Sisters Creek, through the mangroves, to Sombrero Beach. There is a small dingy beach just inside the ocean cut where we landed, stripped the dingy and flipped it over to scrape and brush away the saltwater flora and fauna that had made a home on the bottom of our dingy during the past two weeks.
De Anne hard at work:
I napped in the shade of a palm tree while De Anne strolled the beach. After her return I watched a fisherman land and very carefully unhook a two foot shark. Sneaking back to our palm tree - not too difficult in sand - I caught De Anne in a rare moment of calm repose:
We returned to the boat in early afternoon and made a trip to the marina for showers. With the mooring all boats get an access card for the restrooms. There are about a dozen individual bathrooms. You slide the card, open the door slowly so you can shut it quick if someone screams or worse, invites you in to wash their back, although most folks remember to throw the dead bolt once inside rendering the card useless for that door.
We ran into Peter who had just flown back from a long weekend in Trinidad and made plans to go to the Hurricane for dinner. Tut, a local mooring field resident, had alerted us to dollar taco night so the four of us had a fun evening at the local watering hole.
The wind has finally calmed down so our evening dingy ride back to the boat was our first one in days that did not end with "dingy bottom". This is a condition where powering through choppy water leaves you with a saltwater rinse by the time you return home.
We read for a while and called it a night, retiring to our gently rocking berth.
It's hard to call this a typical day because there is always something different going on or chores to do but it is usually relaxed and free-flowing whenever we are docked, moored, or anchored in a safe place like Marathon.
Sister Creek is a little wider than the Indiana version of creeks:
Friday, November 6, 2009
Trapped in Paradise
Here we are for a second week in Marathon FL. Please suffer with us! Highs in the low 80's and lows in the mid 70's. Shore-side amusements are a short walk or dingy ride away. Our new Suzuki four-stroke dingy motor is a delight and unlike our old motor De Anne can run this one solo. She has her freedom back.
We have a new neighbor Peter, solo sailing on Bowtie Lady who left Sydney, Australia a couple years ago going through the Indian Ocean, around Cape Good Hope, across the Atlantic, up through the Carribean to New York and back down to Marathon. His stories are facinating and made more so by his accent. However I am not tempted to emulate his adventure even with intrepid sailor De Anne at my side. As Dirty Harry said "A man's got to know his limitations". A few days at a time at sea is sufficent for my adventure level.
Some work is involved in our stay here. I am waiting for my new battery charger and the old has been sent off for repair. A few other boat repairs are on my list and of course De Anne continues her never ending struggle to keep the boat spic and span in the face of Mother Nature's steady and relentless march to corrosion and wear.
The weather makes our time here worth every penny. Here is a sample NOAA report for today. Same tomorrow, in fact as far as the forecast goes for a week:
TONIGHT THROUGH SATURDAY NIGHT NORTHEAST TO EAST WINDS 25 TO 30 KNOTS...WITH OCCASIONAL GUSTS NEAR 35 KNOTS. SEAS BEYOND THE REEF 8 TO 11 FEET...EXCEPT HIGHER IN THE GULF STREAM. SEAS INSIDE THE REEF 3 TO 5 FEET. NEARSHORE WATERS EXTREMELY ROUGH. SCATTERED SHOWERS.
Don't you just love the offhand comment "....except higher in the Gulf Stream."
Anyone wishing to spy on us - we are on the Boot key webcam http://www.ci.marathon.fl.us/index.aspx?NID=600 . On the screen showing boats in a V formation with a can bouy at the bottom of the V. Count up 4 boats at a left 45 degree angle from the can - that is us.
We have a new neighbor Peter, solo sailing on Bowtie Lady who left Sydney, Australia a couple years ago going through the Indian Ocean, around Cape Good Hope, across the Atlantic, up through the Carribean to New York and back down to Marathon. His stories are facinating and made more so by his accent. However I am not tempted to emulate his adventure even with intrepid sailor De Anne at my side. As Dirty Harry said "A man's got to know his limitations". A few days at a time at sea is sufficent for my adventure level.
Some work is involved in our stay here. I am waiting for my new battery charger and the old has been sent off for repair. A few other boat repairs are on my list and of course De Anne continues her never ending struggle to keep the boat spic and span in the face of Mother Nature's steady and relentless march to corrosion and wear.
The weather makes our time here worth every penny. Here is a sample NOAA report for today. Same tomorrow, in fact as far as the forecast goes for a week:
TONIGHT THROUGH SATURDAY NIGHT NORTHEAST TO EAST WINDS 25 TO 30 KNOTS...WITH OCCASIONAL GUSTS NEAR 35 KNOTS. SEAS BEYOND THE REEF 8 TO 11 FEET...EXCEPT HIGHER IN THE GULF STREAM. SEAS INSIDE THE REEF 3 TO 5 FEET. NEARSHORE WATERS EXTREMELY ROUGH. SCATTERED SHOWERS.
Don't you just love the offhand comment "....except higher in the Gulf Stream."
Anyone wishing to spy on us - we are on the Boot key webcam http://www.ci.marathon.fl.us/index.aspx?NID=600 . On the screen showing boats in a V formation with a can bouy at the bottom of the V. Count up 4 boats at a left 45 degree angle from the can - that is us.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Different Strokes
De Anne wanted to go to Key West for her birthday, so Friday morning we took the bus 50 miles down US 1 to the end of the Keys.
A little event known as Fantasy Fest '09 was going on. We are still not sure of the event's signifigance; however, it involved lots of drinking and nudity. Our first clue was packed bars at 10:00 am and seeing a man in black boots and a small black cod piece. As the morning progressed we saw women in g-strings and pasties. A little later the women wearing just paint started arriving.
We walked the full length of Duval St. which is the main drag in Key West. By 2:00 pm I was tiring in the heat and suffering from some sensory overload. We worked our way back to the trolley which took us back to the bus stop and "home" to Marathon.
We noted that the job of police officer in Key West must be an easy one. There are no moral or community standards to uphold.
Not many guys can say that for their wife's birthday they got to see about a hundred naked women.
The birthday girl on the pier. Note the man in the gold lame' swimsuit over her right shoulder:
Duval St. in the morning before the crowds arrive:
Some dressed in a more conservative manner:
A little event known as Fantasy Fest '09 was going on. We are still not sure of the event's signifigance; however, it involved lots of drinking and nudity. Our first clue was packed bars at 10:00 am and seeing a man in black boots and a small black cod piece. As the morning progressed we saw women in g-strings and pasties. A little later the women wearing just paint started arriving.
We walked the full length of Duval St. which is the main drag in Key West. By 2:00 pm I was tiring in the heat and suffering from some sensory overload. We worked our way back to the trolley which took us back to the bus stop and "home" to Marathon.
We noted that the job of police officer in Key West must be an easy one. There are no moral or community standards to uphold.
Not many guys can say that for their wife's birthday they got to see about a hundred naked women.
The birthday girl on the pier. Note the man in the gold lame' swimsuit over her right shoulder:
Duval St. in the morning before the crowds arrive:
Some dressed in a more conservative manner:
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Adventure continues......
We left Fort Myers on Friday armed with an excellent (and wrong again) NOAA forecast. I don't know why I don't just stare at tea leaves or chicken bones for a correct weather forecast.
Bob from Curmudgon helped us with an uneventful dock departure, the best kind. Our trip down river was aided by a falling tide and we made San Carlos Bay in good time. Just as I was putting up sails in San Carlos Bay for our exit into the Gulf our battery charger died. Our trip to Marathon became a sails only marathon.
Big yachts passing us port and starboard on the river:
The winds were much lighter than forecast and from a different direction, but other than that the forecast was correct with the prediction of a sunset and the correct time of that occurance. We meandered down the coast at a speed that could be generously called leisurely. The pace slowed as night fell. We made 12 whole miles south during the night.
Saturday morning was more glass-like seas and faint whispers of breeze. We could hear the dophins breathing half a mile away. One pod was chasing a school of fish toward the boat while De Anne was sleeping. One fish jumped when he should have dived and hit the boat like a rubber mallet. The Admiral came out of bed like a shot and was not amused. After my explaination, and using her psychology degree to exam the veracity of both my story and delivery, she believed my fish tale and decided we had experienced a new dolphin behavior requiring a white paper. Dolphins using a boat as a tool to render prey unconscious.
Finally, on Saturday the winds built up from the north until we had 15 knots on the stern. By dusk we had shortened sail down to a double reefed main and were still moving at 4 to 5 knots. I began to think we would arrive outside the Marathon harbor (Boot Key Harbor) before daybreak. Those that follow our realtime Google Maps route already know the answer - wishful thinking.
Faithful followers of this blog already know our feelings about crab pots. The more south we got the worse it got. Twenty miles off-shore and we were still dodging pot bouys. For the non-sailors - if a pot line hooks your rudder, or worse, your propeller then you have to stop and dive under the boat to clear the tangle. There is also the possibility of yanking the propeller and shaft out of the boat thus violating the first rule of boating - keep the water out of the boat. A missing shaft would create a one inch diameter underwater opening in the hull, universally considered by sailors as a least desired event.
After hitting 3 pot bouys in a 15 minute span around 3:00 am Sunday morning the general consensus aboard was to park the boat until daylight. We dropped anchor 17 miles from shore in 20 feet of water. At daybreak we could see that we were surrounded by pots as far as the eye could see. We set sail again and enjoyed a good breeze and a pleasant sail, marred only by the constant need to dodge pots. The wind died an hour later. Our last 10 miles to Moser Channel took 5 hours at 1.8 to 2 knots. Our arrival at the Moser Channel bridge coincided with the last hour of high tide. Our carefully conserved power (remember the battery charger was dead) was squandered recklessly fighting a 3 knot current under and past the bridge.
It was now only 3 miles to the Boot Key entrance. We went back to sail power, only to find the most vast array of pots, ever established by mankind, between us and the entrance. After three hours of this devilish aquatic slalom we dropped anchor just outside the harbor entrance and declared happy hour.
Monday afternoon, after the solar panel recharged the batteries and a favorable tide was running, we completed the last 2 miles into the harbor to our mooring ball. The wind was a brisk 10-15 knots; however, De Anne handled the boat beautifully and I snagged the mooring on the first try without any yelling or drama.
We held our usual post-overnight discussion of "never again", but in a few weeks, even this cruiser paradise, we will likely rediscover the urge to move on once again. Next intended destination is the Bahamas.
Our first sunrise over Boot Key:
Looking west in the harbor:
Bob from Curmudgon helped us with an uneventful dock departure, the best kind. Our trip down river was aided by a falling tide and we made San Carlos Bay in good time. Just as I was putting up sails in San Carlos Bay for our exit into the Gulf our battery charger died. Our trip to Marathon became a sails only marathon.
Big yachts passing us port and starboard on the river:
The winds were much lighter than forecast and from a different direction, but other than that the forecast was correct with the prediction of a sunset and the correct time of that occurance. We meandered down the coast at a speed that could be generously called leisurely. The pace slowed as night fell. We made 12 whole miles south during the night.
Saturday morning was more glass-like seas and faint whispers of breeze. We could hear the dophins breathing half a mile away. One pod was chasing a school of fish toward the boat while De Anne was sleeping. One fish jumped when he should have dived and hit the boat like a rubber mallet. The Admiral came out of bed like a shot and was not amused. After my explaination, and using her psychology degree to exam the veracity of both my story and delivery, she believed my fish tale and decided we had experienced a new dolphin behavior requiring a white paper. Dolphins using a boat as a tool to render prey unconscious.
Finally, on Saturday the winds built up from the north until we had 15 knots on the stern. By dusk we had shortened sail down to a double reefed main and were still moving at 4 to 5 knots. I began to think we would arrive outside the Marathon harbor (Boot Key Harbor) before daybreak. Those that follow our realtime Google Maps route already know the answer - wishful thinking.
Faithful followers of this blog already know our feelings about crab pots. The more south we got the worse it got. Twenty miles off-shore and we were still dodging pot bouys. For the non-sailors - if a pot line hooks your rudder, or worse, your propeller then you have to stop and dive under the boat to clear the tangle. There is also the possibility of yanking the propeller and shaft out of the boat thus violating the first rule of boating - keep the water out of the boat. A missing shaft would create a one inch diameter underwater opening in the hull, universally considered by sailors as a least desired event.
After hitting 3 pot bouys in a 15 minute span around 3:00 am Sunday morning the general consensus aboard was to park the boat until daylight. We dropped anchor 17 miles from shore in 20 feet of water. At daybreak we could see that we were surrounded by pots as far as the eye could see. We set sail again and enjoyed a good breeze and a pleasant sail, marred only by the constant need to dodge pots. The wind died an hour later. Our last 10 miles to Moser Channel took 5 hours at 1.8 to 2 knots. Our arrival at the Moser Channel bridge coincided with the last hour of high tide. Our carefully conserved power (remember the battery charger was dead) was squandered recklessly fighting a 3 knot current under and past the bridge.
It was now only 3 miles to the Boot Key entrance. We went back to sail power, only to find the most vast array of pots, ever established by mankind, between us and the entrance. After three hours of this devilish aquatic slalom we dropped anchor just outside the harbor entrance and declared happy hour.
Monday afternoon, after the solar panel recharged the batteries and a favorable tide was running, we completed the last 2 miles into the harbor to our mooring ball. The wind was a brisk 10-15 knots; however, De Anne handled the boat beautifully and I snagged the mooring on the first try without any yelling or drama.
We held our usual post-overnight discussion of "never again", but in a few weeks, even this cruiser paradise, we will likely rediscover the urge to move on once again. Next intended destination is the Bahamas.
Our first sunrise over Boot Key:
Looking west in the harbor:
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