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:
2 comments:
Way to go, guys! You will make it! BTW, beautiful pictures!
We are envious, of course. Glad you lucked out and had an easy hurricane season! Last year was much different.
Skip and Caroline (in Sedona, Arizona currently...)
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