U.S.A
January 2008 Florida
tuesday January 1, 2008 (key largo, florida)
Happy New Year! After falling out if the dinghy, going back to slapdash for dry clothes we went to a local bar last night with a good group of friends and partied until I lost my shoe. Everyone had a great time, and somehow we all managed to make it back to our respective boats safely. I woke up with a headache, in need of a new set of flip flops, and a new found respect for disembarking from the dinghy. Jaime said she turned around after hearing the splash and all she could see was my legs sticking straight out of the water and my left hand thrusting a plastic cup above the surface. I was completely immersed head first, but managed to fall out of the dink, and get back in all without spilling my drink. Try that sometime.
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We had record heat today, by far the hottest day we’ve had yet so we spent it inside with the A/C cranked watching season 3 of 24. Nothing like Special Agent Jack Bauer and a greasy breakfast to kick off the new year.
It was really hard to believe given the sweltering heat, but we are apparently in for some nasty weather. Tonight a cold front is forecast to bring 20 knot winds from the North. We don’t trust the holding in this anchorage and since it’s really exposed to North winds we spent a couple hours preparing the boat for the nasty weather. First thing was to check the anchor, the water was still calm and clear so all I had to do was take the dink over there and look at it from the surface. It was buried and out of sight, so should hold really well. Next we let out a little more anchor line; we were only in 5 feet of water and had about 70 feet out which should be more than enough. We then set the anchor alarm which lets us know if we are dragging, organized the boat, made sure the flashlights were working, the dink was secured, and our key in the ignition. We were as ready as we could be with nothing to do now but wait for the wind…
9 PM – Winds start. Unfortunately the forecast was correct, we were experiencing 20 knots from the north. The bay we are in is quite shallow, so wave height shouldn’t be a problem. We have no protection from the north here though so will be taking the full force of whatever this front has in store for us.
9-12PM – Not much has changed, steady 20-25 knots now. The northerly wind has us pinned back against the anchor and is trying its best to blast us against the shoreline. We’re about 100 yards from shore, so if it does drag we’ll have to act quickly.
wednesday January 2, 2008 (key largo, florida)
12-1AM – Steady 25 knots with gusts to 30 now. We’ve double checked all of the precautions we took so there’s not much else we can do. There won’t be much sleep for us tonight. Not because of the rocking and pounding from the waves, but because everything we own is gambled on the side of an anchor and line which are currently straining to hold us back from land against a relentless wind.
2AM – The forecasted 20 knots is now a full gale force 35 knot winds. Neither of us is sleeping, and we are sure glad we spent time getting the boat ready for this weather. It would be pretty rough trying to do anything outside now with this wind and the dark moonless night.
3AM – BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I was already half way to the door when the anchor alarm went off. The boat had started to roll which meant that we were broadside to the wind so I knew something was wrong. The alarm only confirmed what I had expected once outside. Our anchor had dragged. There was now nothing stopping us from being rammed against the shore by the gale. We had about 80 yards of sea room to correct our sad state of affair.
Jaime was right behind me. Our situation was precarious so we were moving deliberately, but were both quite calm. We had talked about this precise scenario and knew exactly what needed to be done. There was no need to panic. I would lower the drive leg, and start the engine. Jaime went forward with a headlamp and prepared to take in the anchor. By this time it was clear that the anchor would not reset itself, so the first priority was to engage the engine to push us against the wind and away from shore. As we did that, we would bring up anchor and line into the boat. Once we were a comfortable distance from shore we could discuss our options and try resetting the anchor… in theory.
3:05AM – Jaime is on deck. Engine is running and drive leg is down. I’m at the helm and ready to respond to Jaime’s direction. We have a set of pre arranged hand signals so that she can direct me to move the boat up the anchor line, the wind drowns out any attempt at communicating verbally. At this point we were still broadside to wind and moving steadily towards shore. The anchor line ran off into the wind off the port side. Jaime was signaling me to bring the boat around into the wind and straight north. Not the easiest thing in the dark against 35 knots of wind and 50 yards (and closing) from shore, but apart from the high stakes not the most difficult either. Throttle forward and hard to port. No response, the boat moved straight forward but wouldn’t bear an inch to port. Assuming this was the effect of the wind on our beam, I throttled forward more. Jaime was still signaling port (now a little more frantically) and by the time we had hit full throttle it was evident that we had a serious problem. No steerage.
3:10AM – 20 yards from shore. We need to turn the boat to port in order to retrieve the anchor and control. We are now close enough to the coastline for our deck light to illuminate houses, docks and waves crashing against rock walled jetties, a sight that would shake the steeliest nerves. Ours are far from steel so at this point we had completely abandoned our calm demeanor in favor of being scared shitless.
3:12AM – We had given the current course of action all the time we could. If we kept it up we would certainly lose the boat, so it was time to change up the strategy. We had put fenders out the night before and now it looked like we may be able to use them. We could see a dock on the shore line. Even though I had no steerage, I was still able to control forward and reverse so if I could line it up correctly, there was a possibility that we could hit the dock with our starboard side. With some fenders between us to minimize the damage it could buy us just enough time to resolve the steerage issue. Being pinned against a dock being slammed by waves and wind may not sound like a great option, but lets face it, it beats the crap out of being bashed to pieces against a rock wall.
3:15AM – 10 yards from shore, and 2 yards from the dock. Option two wasn’t going to work. We had lined it up pretty good, but with me at the helm Jaime was alone on deck trying to manage fenders and dock lines while wind and waves pitched around our 10 thousand pound boat like a cork, an impossible situation. After sliding past the dock, contact with the rocks looked inevitable. At this point things were looking their worst.
3:20AM – The engine were in full reverse, alarms were screaming and water was being pushed over the back deck and into the cockpit. Somehow we actually began to make headway against the wind, in reverse. Not much but just enough for the starboard hull to clear the jetty by a couple of feet as we rocketed along parallel to the shoreline. Then the port hull did the same, this one cleared by inches.
3:25AM – Clear of the jetty now, but by no means out of danger. We were still only a few yards from shore, without steerage, and towing a rouge anchor through a crowded anchorage in the middle of the night with the wind blowing up our skirt. I was able to keep us back from shore using full reverse but holding this position against the weather caused the seas to crash into the stern. This boat isn’t designed for that and it made things pretty uncomfortable (wet) in the cockpit. We were now being blown into the crowded part of the anchorage, it seemed like a toss-up at this point whether we would hit the shore first or another boat so I was fully prepared to beach it if we had to.
3:26AM – Jaime came back to the cockpit for the boat knife. Getting rid of the anchor would not only increase our chances of getting the boat out of here safely, it would also prevent us from dragging it over top of someone else’s anchor and putting them in the same position. Recovering it now was out of the question with everything working against us, so it had to be cut. A few seconds later Jaime had us free of the anchor, and with that liability out of the way our full concentration could now be centered on getting us away from shore while avoiding the other boats.
3:30AM – Free from any risk of being tangled in our own anchor line and with enough room from the reversing I was now able to try our starboard steerage. It worked. So in order to point us into the wind and away from shore, I backed around with the helm all the way over to starboard. We had barely enough sea room to do it and half expected to bury our drive leg but by waiting until the right moment were able to find space between anchored boats for the maneuver.
3:35AM – It worked! Now facing the right direction it was time to get out of Dodge. With the throttle full forward we were relieved to finally put some distance between us and the shore. It was difficult navigating through the anchorage though. Since I couldn’t turn to port, there was no way to turn back into the wind. Once the wind started to push us around to starboard the only way to steer out of it was to let it push us around and then keep steering to starboard until we made a big clockwise circle and could point away again. Somehow using that crude method, and with Jaime pointing out the unlit boats to me from the deck we were able to get out of imminent danger and finally start thinking in increments of minutes instead of seconds.
3:40AM – We’ve never been so happy to be far from shore in the middle of the night in a full gale with impaired steerage. We eventually found that we could steer to port by manually pulling the drive leg over. This was a two person job until Jaime discovered that by using a boat hook in one hand and the helm in the other that one person could keep the boat from going around in circles. This enabled us to get even further from shore. At least from here if things got worse we would have more time to deal with them before having to worry about being wrecked on a rocky shoreline.
With helming back to being a one person job I was free to go foreword and rig up a new anchor and line and can now say with some experience that being on the deck of a boat with no pants on rummaging through an anchor locker while you watch the bow pitch up high into the air and the down again slamming through waves that at worst threaten to wash you clear off the boat and at best leave you sputtering and shivering in the cold wind is not a jolly bunch of fun. Once that bit of nastiness was done we could go to work on addressing the steerage problem with the security of knowing that if we really messed up the job that we had an anchor ready to go which with luck would keep us from repeating that last little escapade twice in one night.
Before long we had the steering working again. Turns out the steering line had worked loose somehow on the port side. Once diagnosed it was a simple matter to reattach it to regain full control of the boat. By 4:30 we were motoring around enjoying the gale and trying to avoid unlit crab traps, buoys, and nav markers while listening to other boats distress calls and coastguard chatter on the VHF. Sadly another boat in our anchorage was taking on water at the same time as our exploit. The water caused problems with their generator and batteries. Without power her bilge pumps couldn’t do their job. We don’t know for sure yet, but believe the boat was lost.
We carried on this way until the sun came up and then we were able to make our way to an anchorage that looked like it had some protection from the north wind. We made it there and set the new anchor, but the wind was just as bad. We were joined there by a few other boats that had spent the night motoring around after dragging their anchors as well. Apparently we weren’t the only ones feeling sleep deprived. We stayed long enough to eat some quick snacks, have a cup of hot chocolate, go to the bathroom and consult the charts. The wind hadn’t let up at all by this point and neither of us were feeling very comfortable with things so we decided on a marina about 10 miles away where we could hopefully find some shelter and lick our wounds.
We made it to a Marina in Tavernier. We were disappointed to find that the marina and our slip was completely exposed to the north wind. After all this we would now be attempting to bring the slapdash into a slip made up of 4 big posts and a concrete wall with a 25 knot tailwind. Joy. It was our trickiest docking experience yet, but with the help of 4 people on the dock we managed to get the lines on and eventually secure the boat between the 4 big posts without any damage.
It’s late afternoon and we now have almost every dock line we own straining to keep us in place. The wind is still howling and we haven’t found peace of mind yet. We are stuck here now until the winds clock around to the east, Saturday according to the latest prediction. It will be another sleepless night watching the lines and making changes based on wind speed and direction. Snapping a line here could be worse than dragging anchor. It would either pin us up against the concrete wall and bash the hull around, or worse, send us flailing around the marina. Oh, we’re also keeping a close eye on a bunch of boats anchored just outside the marina. In the current wind direction if they drag they will be right on top of us within minutes. Not sure what we’re supposed to do about that, but I might as well be awake and not miss the show.
Remember how New Years day was the hottest we had seen yet? Well today is the coldest. They actually had snow in Naples FL, and with this crazy wind the temperature here actually dropped to the high 20’s. We used the air conditioning for the first time this week, and now we are huddled up inside using the heater for the first time. The dink is almost completely flat. With the drastic change in air temperature its looking like a 2 week old birthday balloon.
All tied up and nowhere to go has provided us with the first opportunity to really think things through and actually talk about our scare from the night before. We were both pretty terrified at times, but happy with our performance and the outcome. We don’t really think there’s too much that we could have done differently except that I will probably keep some pants close by next time. Our preparations were good and the decisions we made at the time were sound based on the information we had. We’ve determined that the steering problem is what really did us in. We’ve dropped the drive leg and motored at least a hundred times since we’ve had the boat without a problem, so the odds of that happening at 3AM in a gale with your anchor dragging have to be pretty astronomical. On the other hand, some people would say that that’s the only time it will happen. In any case without that glitch we would have just motored up the line, recovered our anchor and reset it. No big deal. One thing is sure; we’ll be keeping an eye on that annoying little slapdash personality trait from now on and if it happens again we should be able to diagnose it a lot more quickly. That second anchor will always be ready to go too.
It rattled us pretty good and it was really sobering to be in a scenario where immediate decisions have dramatic consequences. Before we set off we knew that days like this would eventually be encountered, and had accepted that as being part of the risks involved. It’s truly a different thing to experience it, but it hasn’t changed anything. If this was easy everyone would be doing it. First chance we get we’ll be on our way across the Gulf Stream.
thursday January 3, 2008 (tavernier, florida)
After a long night of line checking and adjusting at about 6AM this morning I went to bed for the first time in 48 hours. Shortly afterwards Jaime got up to take the day shift. I slept until noon. We didn’t leave the boat, just puttered around here, made a few calls home, updated the website and took care of some emails.
As mentioned, we are literally stuck here until the wind changes. We won’t be able to safely exit the marina until it does. After that the plan will be to go back to our original anchorage and see if we can recover our anchor and chain. We know exactly where it is, and don’t think many people will be out in this weather so we should have a pretty good chance of finding it. Then we hurry up and wait. We can’t attempt to cross the Gulf stream until there’s no north in the wind. Apparently it can be a pretty nasty bit of water when the winds are from the north (the seas were 17 feet in the gulf stream last night) and it’s not forecast to change at all until at least Monday. We are going to sit tight and make the most of our time here picking up any last minute supplies and get ready to go as soon as the wind changes.
saturday January 5, 2008 (tavernier, florida)
What a difference a couple of days can make. The wind has clocked around to the east now so we are officially on the lee shore now. Things are much calmer around here. First thing tomorrow morning we can leave. We’ll try to find the anchor and rode that we jettisoned and a nice place to wait for the right weather for our Bahamas crossing. This is only the second time since we left Myrtle Beach 3 and a half months ago that we’ve been in a marina so we’ve made the most of it. It’s a novelty now. We step off of the boat onto land, not onto another boat. Long hot showers and copious loads of clean laundry abound. Both diesel and water tanks are full to capacity, and yes, each with the right stuff thank you very much. Jaime scrubbed the whole deck from stem to stern and rinsed it from a hose attached to a never ending supply of fresh water. We’ve got full propane tanks and a freezer full of steaks. We even went to a movie last night; I am Legend. We haven’t been gone long but are totally out of touch. We showed up at the theater and had absolutely no idea what any one of the movies being shown was about. We hadn’t even heard of them. And yes for the record, there is a tavern near Tavernier. Life is good.
One comment on marinas; they charge by the foot. Maybe that’s fair. After all larger boats require larger slips. Larger slips take up more room so in all fairness should fetch a higher rate. Right? Theoretically that’s true but the fact is most slips are exactly the same size. Sure there’s a few for the real big ones, but for the most part its one size fits most. For instance our slip is exactly the same size as the one next to us and it has a Lagoon 37 parked in it. Without getting into precise measurements, it’s longer and wider boat than ours. So he’s paying more than us to stay here even though his slip is exactly the same size.
Imagine if this kind of logic were applied to hotel rooms; “I can see that you’re a few inches taller since your last stay, here’s your new room rate.” Make sure to take off your socks and shoes before check-in.
Okay maybe an unfair comparison. And just to be sporting lets forget that it really doesn’t make any difference to a marina whether your boat is 15 feet or 40, just like it doesn’t matter to a hotel if you are 4 feet tall or 6. They are going to stick you both in the same room (or slip) anyway. Looking past all that, the fact remains that they seem to charge way too much for each foot. At 34 feet we are relatively small but still incur about the same overnight cost as a lot of hotels. This seems a bit odd since we arrived with our own shelter, bed, linens and towels. There’s no pool, you don’t get maid service, room service or even any of those miniature soaps or shampoos. Continental breakfast? I don’t think so; you get a plug-in and a tap. And too bad for you if you didn’t bring your own hose to connect to that tap you’ll just have to use a bucket.
Sure, if you are staying for a month or a year it can be pretty cheap relative to renting a house or carrying a mortgage. But we overnighters are referred to as “transients” and transients seem to get fleeced for about 2 and 3 bucks a foot in Florida. May not sound like much, but in practical terms; our bill for three nights will exceed the cost of 10 sirloin steaks, 5 flats of beer, 5 bottles of wine, admission for 2 to ‘I am Legend’ (plus a medium popcorn) and 15 gallons of diesel. All that for 4 posts, a plug-in, and a faucet.
Apparently marinas, or as Jaime refers to them “boat hotels” will remain an occasional luxury for the slapdash. But I have to admit, those long hot showers were nice.
sunday January 6, 2007 (key largo, florida)
We’re back where it all went down. .
We made an early departure from the boat hotel in Tavernier this morning in order to get back here with time enough in the day to try and locate our rouge anchor and line. The first part of our plan went off without a hitch, we arrived before lunch. The second part may be a little harder than anticipated. Jaime and I have slightly different opinions on its potential location, and even though we are only talking about the matter of 50 yards between our estimates it makes a huge difference. To make matters worse the wind is still a brisk 15 knots which really hampers the visibility.
We trolled back and forth and back and forth and back and forth… but came up empty handed. The only way to see the bottom was through a view bucket. A view bucket is essentially a 5 gallon pail with a clear bottom. To use it you submerge the bottom of the bucket and peer through the top. This affords you a little window to look through; little being the operative word. The culmination of our search and rescue efforts were focused down to the bottom of a pail which would be a lot like trying to look for an unknown point in the sky without ever taking your eye away from a telescope. I was running the dink along our grid pattern and Jaime had her head stuck in the bucket. This turned out to be a good arrangement because she eventually got seasick. Since her face was already in a bucket she was all set to throw up without having to abandon her post.
Our odds will improve significantly if the wind dies down. When it’s calm looking through the water in this bay is like looking through a window. On the plus side the same wind that’s frustrating our survey work has ‘probably’ prevented anyone else from picking it up. There is always the nagging possibility that our anchor may not even be there anymore. Our ‘treasure’ hunt would be a lot more tolerable if we knew that the treasure was in fact there. If someone had spotted the anchor or line they would have certainly scooped it up. The anchor is worth a few hundred bucks by itself and the chain we had goes for about 3 bucks a foot. A small price to pay for the safety of boat and crew of course so if that’s our pound of flesh so be it. We will still try though if for no other reason because we don’t really have anything else to do at this point. We’re locked into a waiting game and are now placing bets on which will come first; our registration or a favorable weather window. I assure you, the matter of the sluggish registration would be almost unbearably frustrating if conditions were right for a crossing, but as it stands we would be sitting here right now waiting for weather even if the boat was documented.
That’s the optimist’s position though. The pessimist would be screaming out that if we had our registration before Christmas when we were supposed to that we would have already been sitting comfortably in Bimini eating conch fritters when the big gale came through and none if this would have even happened. Oh well, c’est la vive. For now we’ll pass the time honing our rescue diver skills by laying down more search patterns in Buttonwood Sound. PADI would be proud.
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monday january 7, 2008 (key largo, florida)
We got serious about finding our anchor today. Spurned on by the offer of a 50 dollar reward; a veritable army of slapdash anchor bounty hunters splattered and sputtered around the anchorage. We ran into this group of teenaged guys and had enlisted their help. A few minutes later we were leading them through our search area with the dink. But for all of their enthusiasm and spent energy the reward remained unclaimed. They managed to cover a lot of ground but their approach was pretty spastic. Clearly we were not going to be able to just oversee this operation from the relative comfort of the dink; it was time to get wet.
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After a quick trip back to the slapdash we returned sporting the appropriate attire which included wetsuits, fins, masks. We each had a line attached to a float which we could use to mark anything we found. On the way we had retraced the path slapdash had taken that crazy night and anchored the dink in what we thought was a pretty central location. From there we both splashed into the water and started our search. It wasn’t long, maybe 15 minutes, before Jaime swam over to tell me that she had found the anchor. It was only 20 feet from where we anchored the dink! We returned to the spot she had marked with a float. Even though it was pretty much buried there was most definitely a line there that looked just like the one we had abandoned a week ago. I dove down to retrieve it but it was really stuck. It took a few tries before I finally unearthed the line and anchor. Funny thing though; after all that excitement it wasn’t even ours! What are the odds? Who knows how long ago this thing had been cut and abandoned but it was pretty old. There was about 8 feet of line attached to a rusted old anchor. I still have no idea how Jaime found it.
A false start, but if we could find some 20 year old relic how hard could it be to find one that had only been there a week? I would probably be easy if you looked in the right spot but herein lays the problem. A couple of hours later it had become pretty clear that we were not looking in the right spot. We were cold and hungry so called off the search for the day. All we had to show for our efforts was a strange shell that some weird crustacean had discarded. They are about the size of a large dinner plate and kind of look like a stingray but with a hard red shell. We’ve done a lot of diving but haven’t run into these critters before.
When we got back to the boat I decided that it would be a good idea to finally clean the bottom of our hulls. What was I thinking? Probably that the undertaking was long overdue and since I was wet and cold already that now was as good a time as any. There were all kinds of barnacles and so much seaweed that the hulls were starting to resemble an octopuses garden in the sea. I got busy with the scrubber and scraper and pretty soon the water around me was clouded with debris. Fortunately the stuff came off pretty easily; even so I can’t say that bottom cleaning is a particularly pleasant job. I guess you have to do it every month or so too, so that’s something to look forward to. When I emerged Jaime threw some kudos my way. Normally that would have been nice but at the time it did nothing to console me. What she couldn’t see was that there were these squiggly little worm things all over me. They looked like boogers but were squirming around like worms. As soon as I noticed them I was squirming around like a worm too trying to shake them off. We have no idea what they were but I’m pretty sure that they were trying to kill me for destroying the vegetation nation that they had painstakingly constructed on our hulls. So after 4 hours in the water and covered with living sea boogers I scrambled out and took a fresh water rinse on the deck.
My wrinkled up fingers and toes finally started to get back to normal after the second beer.
tuesday january 8, 2008 (key largo, florida)
Inspired by a stupid episode of 24 from the night before we decided to employ the latest in satellite technology to help us locate our anchor. We reviewed the tracks on our GPS from a week ago and managed to acquire the anchor coordinates. Then we hopped in the dink with our hand held GPS to go and mark the spot. The location turned out to be about 75 yards north of the area we had covered yesterday. We felt like we had a pretty good point to start from now so once the wind settles down we’ll resume the search. Incidentally, I priced out a replacement anchor and found out that they cost 700 bucks. We had better find this thing.
There’s also a front coming through which will create the right conditions for a crossing this week. If our registration gets here in time we’ll be Bahamas bound this Friday or Saturday with or without the anchor.
wednesday january 9, 2008 (key largo, florida)
Success!
We were on our way into town today and noticed that the water was pretty flat in the area we had marked with the GPS. The visibility was better than it had been all week, we could now see right down to the bottom without leaving the boat. We decided to make a few passes over the target area in the dink. On the second pass we found a door mat that had blown off our boat in the storm so knew that we were close. On the next pass Jaime saw something. I asked if she wanted me to check it out but she said that it was probably just a fish or something. For some reason we decided to spin around and check it out anyway and with the help of the trusty view bucket realized at that moment that we had just found our anchor bridle. This was an impromptu search so we weren’t prepared with a boat hook, masks, fins or anything but we couldn’t chance going back to the boat either. It would be too easy to lose the spot and never find it again. There wasn’t much point in debating who would be the lucky one to dive in so I stripped down to my shorts and got it over with. Once down there I could see that much like the last anchor we found the whole thing was buried. The piece that Jaime saw sticking out was only about 12 inches long and was the only part not completely covered over by the mud and silt. We were pretty excited though and drug up the chain, bridle and anchor without giving much thought to all the mess. Once it was loaded up we joyfully returned our anchor to its rightful home.
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Finally restored to our pre-storm condition now; we are looking forward to getting our registration and getting out of here on Saturday.
friday january 11, 2008 (key largo, florida)
So our boat is officially registered now. We can access it on line and see that everything has been completed. There’s a catch though; we still need the paperwork. We are still waiting for the official document and some plate which has the registration number engraved on it. The latest estimate has this stuff arriving here on Monday. So we will miss this weather window but are still pretty excited to actually have an end in sight. A few of days ago we gave up on the “kill them with kindness” strategy and decided to just call and email every couple of hours. They know us by name now and are completely sick of our all out assault, but I guess sometimes the squeaky wheel does get the grease. We will have to have a massive celebration when this thing actually arrives; it’s been a full three months since we started the process.
About that distress call we heard while motoring around in the dark last week. Turns out the boat did capsize. Fortunately the captain was unharmed. We met another couple in a small cat and they dragged as well that night. After being pushed hard aground by the wind they were trapped for a full 4 days before they were finally able to dig and winch their way out. I guess that front broke some hundred year old records, one of which was the temperature. They last time it was as c-c-cold here was back in 1903. We hope it’s at least another century before it happens again.
After rescuing our anchor and line yesterday we decided that it was about time that we try and rig it back up. This was all pretty simple stuff for the most part. Using a shackle you attach one end of the chain to the anchor. Then you wire the shackle pin in place so that it doesn’t work its way out over time. After that we marked the chain every 10 feet which enables us to keep track of exactly how much we let out. After marking 150 feet of chain the time finally came to fasten it to the line. The anchor line is a strong braided rope between the chain and our boat. That’s when things slowed down a bit. Actually that’s when things came to a grinding halt. We needed to create an “eye splice” in the line. This is a loop at one end of the anchor line which gives you something to attach the chain to. You wrap the rope around a tear drop shaped piece of stainless steel made specifically for this purpose and then weave the frayed end of the rope back into itself. If you succeed there should be a tight loop wrapped around the steel bit when you are finished. You can then hook the chain up to this eye using another shackle to finish the job. As you may have assumed neither of us had a lot of experience in the crazy world of eye splicing. So we broke out the 65th edition of Chapman’s Piloting and Seamanship. This colossal 928 page bible of boating contains way more than you ever needed to know about boating and all its peripherals. Here’s the opening paragraph for a section with the deceptively simple title, ‘eye splice’.
“Start the eye splice by unlaying the strands of the free end six to ten turns of lay. Now tape or hot seal the end of each strand to prevent its unlaying while being handled; whipping can be applied to the strand ends, but this action is rarely done as this is only a temporary intermediate action if the ends are to be tapered. It is sometimes helpful to place tape around the unlayed strands every 4 to 6 inches to maintain the “turn” in the strand.”
That’s what it says verbatim. Is unlaying even a word? We were screwed. Still I decided to settle in with a cup of coffee, a roll of tape, our anchor line to see if I could translate these instructions into English. I was sure that I would be “unlaying some strands” in no time. Two hours later Jaime came to check on me and found me trying to hang myself with the tangled up mess of line I had created. She separated me from the mess, picked up the line and looked at the book. On my way out of there I heard her say something like “how hard could this be?” I recognized the tone, in fact I think started my slow and painful decent into madness the same way.
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Two hours later Jaime used the snarled remains of the line to fasten the 30 pound Chapman’s guide around her ankles and was about to pitch herself overboard when I intervened. By that time I had sniffed enough marine adhesive to calm my nerves and was able to talk her off the ledge. We untied the book from her ankles and then used it to beat the rope a few times. It may not have been very productive but it was extremely cathartic.
Bolstered by our success with the anchor line Jaime decided to do something completely different and broke out the wonder wash for the first time. Its a little hand operated wash machine that looks like a giant egg. We heard somewhere that they worked great. You can only get them on line but for 50 bucks we thought it was worth a try. You dump your clothes in with a gallon of water and some detergent. It seals up like a pressure cooker and then for the next 2 minutes you spin the barrel around on its stand. The dirty water drains out from the bottom when you are finished. To rinse you just repeat the process. I wouldn’t want to wash a ton of clothes that way but for a small load now and then it actually works really well.
Wow. I can’t believe we’re writing about tying knots and our snazzy plastic egg washing machine… we really need to get moving before the transformation into boat nerds is completely irreversible.
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saturday january 12, 2008 (key largo, florida)
Update: We beat the eye splice and here’s some chicken soup for the couples soul; we went back in for round two as a team and what we couldn’t do individually we accomplished together. Isn’t that sweet enough to make you puke? Then we did a little happy dance on top of the eye splice and took sadistic pleasure in shackling it to a chain and pitching it overboard. Take that stupid anchor line.
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Slapdash crew: One
Inanimate object: Zero
Tonight we’re having our Dutch friends over for pizza and beers. They said that they’ve been reading the website though so we’re not sure if they’ll show up.
monday january 21, 2008 (key largo, florida)
Hell froze over. Pigs flew. Our registration arrived.
The slapdash decals now match the name on our neatly embossed government issued paperwork. As with all things boat related, this process took 3 times the time, 4 times the money, and 29 times the pain. So ‘only’ 4 months and sixteen hundred bucks later we are certified, bona-fide, licensed, approved, accredited and completely unqualified to sail around the world. Neat huh?
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That’s the good news. The bad news is that we are presently sitting through another gale in the same anchorage that nearly ended our trip a couple of weeks ago. Who knew that the Floridian weather was so crappy? This is our 3rd gale since we crossed into the state. This front was a very punctual one. It moved in Saturday evening exactly as forecasted. At midnight the wind started cycling around clockwise from south to west and finally north where it really picked up speed. Now it’s in the 30 knot neighborhood which is a bad part of town for those of us in exposed anchorages. So far the new chain seems to be doing the trick though. Despite the combined efforts from wind and wave we remain pinned down to the same place that we were before things got nasty. With a couple more sleepless nights under our belts we are looking forward to Tuesday night when the front is supposed to finally pass. We have our fingers crossed for some settled conditions after that so that we can ‘exit stage left’ before the next front comes barging through, which seems to happen with alarming frequency.
I’m sure you have picked this up by now but just to be clear; the weather that you may not even notice when you live in a house and drive a car to work can be totally menacing to boat people. Think about that the next time you drive across the bridge and look at the boats bobbing around below you. We are basically stuck down here inside our boats constantly scanning the horizon for any sign that we are dragging anchor. We’re like a bunch of sleep deprived paranoid and phobic shut-ins. In fact I could swear that boat behind us is closer to now than it was an hour ago. Right?
Even if your anchor doesn’t drag there’s always the chance that your neighbors will. Consider the following example; around midnight a couple of nights ago we heard some commotion outside so went to see what was going on. Once on deck our jaws fell open. Right there in front of us was this huge 40 foot trawler drifting dangerously close to our boat, like jumping distance close. It looked like a ghost ship but upon closer inspection we saw that it was actually being towed by a small dinghy, a small dinghy which contained two little Dutch people. Apparently our friends John and Jolanda from JoHo had managed to intercept and divert this thing. Their actions had narrowly prevented an unwelcome nocturnal meeting between the ghost ship and slapdash. We closed our jaws and jumped in the dink to join the chase. I guess the boat had broken free from its anchor somewhere and had been sleepwalking all over the bay looking for unsuspecting boats like ours to ram into. Soon a couple more dinks and crews joined the procession. Then like the moral of some twisted story, the big vessel eventually submitted to the will of a bunch of dinks. It was muscled over to a quiet corner of the bay near a half submerged wreck where a white guy who goes by the name of African John led a line from the ghost ship and secured it to the wreck. Nobody seems to know who this thing belongs to but I can still see it bobbing around happily tied up to its improvised sunken sailboat anchor.
I’m not making this stuff up. If you haven’t met up with a few dinghy’s and their colorful crews on a starry night in the middle of a bay to discuss by flashlight the best way to deal with a ghost ship, then you really haven’t lived. But that’s not the point. The point is to be nice to enterprising young Dutch couples; they may save your boat someday. That and keeping your boat safe during crappy weather in an anchorage like this can be an exhausting full time job. And it doesn’t pay that well.
Today we will pass the time by cleaning the cabin from top to bottom, writing up some post cards and nervously looking over our twitchy shoulders every few seconds for ghost ships like some kind of deranged drug addicts. Yo-ho-ho it’s a sailor’s life for we.
wednesday january 23, 2007 (pumpkin key, florida)
The front has passed and we are still in one piece. The bad news came via NOAA weather service, there’s another front right behind it. Interestingly this has also afforded us a very small window to cross the Gulf Stream. It was a quick decision this morning to try and squeeze a crossing out of this small opening because the next front will bring North winds until at least Monday. Of course the opening is nothing like we imagined it would be for our first crossing so yes, we are pushing it just a tad. At the same time if things look hairy when we get out there we can always just turn around and come back.
So we grabbed a couple of dive tanks from the shop across the road, filled up one more jerry can of diesel, topped off the water and came here. ‘Here’ is Pumpkin Key which is less than a half mile from the inlet we will use to access the Atlantic. The inlet is called Angelfish Creek and we will try to navigate our way through it in the wee hours of the morning. Getting a very early start is critical because that second front I mentioned is scheduled to move in tomorrow night sometime. Getting caught in the Gulf Stream with 20 knot winds from the north is a pretty serious deal. Long story short; we need to be in a safe harbor as early in the day as possible.
If all goes well by this time tomorrow we will have had our last look at North America for a few years and be feasting on conch fritters at Sherry’s Beach Bar in Bimini. If it doesn’t we will be right back here at Pumpkin Key looking for ways to kill time, and not each other, until the weather changes sometime next week. Wish us luck!
thursday january 24, 2008 (pumpkin key, florida)
We were up at 3:30AM this morning and everything looked good. We put on some coffee had a bowl of cereal and listened to the weather, still no change. Everything seemed primed for a perfect crossing, especially the crew.
Jaime has been doing a lot of studying about the weather lately; we thought that the odds of us completing this trip might increase with a better understanding of how weather works. Chapman Piloting and Seamanship, that rather large volume that recently taught us how to tie an eye splice, also has a very substantial weather section. For example, there are nearly four whole pages dedicated solely to the behavior of fog. Here’s a quote we found especially interesting:
“Along the South Atlantic Coast (from Cape Hatteras to the tip of Florida) and in the Gulf of Mexico fog rarely creates a problem for boaters. It is virtually non existent during the summer and even in the winter and early spring season…”
Needless to say fog was very low on our list of things to worry about for this particular crossing. I mean, the very region we’re in was basically held up as a model for all fogless areas. The Floridian foglessness was singled out, and not by some two bit grocery store almanac either, but by one of the most respected maritime publications in existence. Chapman’s roots go back to the first world war when the author was asked by Franklin D. Roosevelt to put the manual together. We have the 65th edition and there are over 3 million copies in print. The coast guard and power squadrons have adopted it for their courses. The standards are so commanding that they’re relied upon in the court of law. For the love of God who is going to argue with credentials like that?
Imagine our surprise when we stepped outside into fog so thick that we couldn’t see either end of our boat. This was like a heaping bowl of Pacific Northwest’s finest pea soup. The kind that isn’t supposed to be here. The kind that you could choke on. The kind that shuts down airports. The kind that would completely destroy any chance we had of leaving today.
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We sat around on fog watch all morning. Every half hour we would optimistically revise our plans and increase our estimated boat speed for the passage so that we could theoretically make it. We even had the engine running and the anchor half retracted. If it lifted we could have been underway in 30 seconds. That’s just the thing though, it didn’t lift. By 10AM we had no choice but to throw in the towel. It was a hard pill to swallow but what are you going to do? We could actually hear people talking on boats near by but couldn’t see a thing. It was like life trapped inside a ping pong ball.
The fog finally lifted by about 11AM and we decided to drop in on the Atlantic anyway. Even if it was too late to leave it would give us the opportunity to navigate Angelfish. Then we’ll have an idea of what to expect should we ever get the chance to leave this place. We motored through the inlet and bobbed around in the ocean for a while, woot woot. It wasn’t much fun but at least we did something to further prepare for our eventual escape. That’s what we told ourselves anyway. We were feeling pretty dejected while we made our way back into the sound to find a place to weather out the cold front that we were supposed to be in Bimini for.
friday january 25, 2008 (long arsenicker, florida)
If you were ever looking to nick an arse, especially a long one, I guess this would be the place to do it. What is an Arsenicker anyway, and how in the world did we end up anchored behind a long one? Check your charts, its there.
Well here we are waiting out a cold front behind good ol’ Long Arsenicker. Nothing happened today worth writing about, but there was no way I was going to pass up the chance to post a slaplog from a place called Long Arsenicker.
monday january 28, 2008 (key largo, florida)
We decided to come back to Key Largo yesterday. We convinced ourselves that it was to top of on fuel and water but I think a big part of it was just to keep ourselves busy. Anything to keep our minds off the frustration associated with being stuck somewhere. Key Largo is about a half day sail from our inlet (and Arselicker, I mean nicker) so if nothing else it will kill some time while we wait for our next weather window. By all sources that should be this Wednesday. Tomorrow we will head back and anchor ourselves beside Angelfish (not far from Arselicker, I mean nicker). We’ll be up at 0’dark hundred again on Wednesday to give this Gulf Stream another try.
By the way, if it doesn’t work out this time we’ve decided to just bypass the Bahamas altogether and go straight to Cuba. With this seemingly endless succession of Northerlies it would probably be a nice downwind sail. Plus, it would make up for some of the time we’ve lost waiting to cross the moody Gulf Stream.
thursday january 31, 2008 (alice town, bimini)
In this corner of the world there are 700 islands that extend over 500 miles of some of the clearest water in the world, certainly the brightest blue that we’ve ever seen. Collectively these islands are known as The Bahamas, and that’s where we are.
We woke up yesterday in an unfamiliar way, with an alarm clock. It sounded at 3:30AM just as we had programmed it to. This time we checked outside before we ate breakfast and were relieved that there was no fog. The stars and moon were out and we could still see a few lights on the shoreline and the boats anchored nearby. After confirming that our plans would not be interrupted by some freak fog bank we set about readying ourselves and the boat for our first deep water passage. This involved Raisin Bran for me, Froot Loops for Jaime and engine checks for slapdash. First the engine oil, then the water level, then the transmission, then the drive leg. We made sure everything in the cabin was stowed and secure, then flicked on the VHF and instrument panel. The engine started without complaint and we listened to the updated forecast. Nothing had changed, the air was stable so we didn’t expect any surprises.
By 5AM we were slowly motoring out of the anchorage. All the lights were off and the instruments covered so that our eyes could adjust to the dark. We made our way through Angelfish Creek for the second and last time. I was glad that we had decided to go through here in the daylight a few days before. The chart plotter recorded the route we took which helped us navigate our way through the narrow, winding passage in the dark.
At 6AM we were exiting the calm sheltered inlet and feeling the ocean swell. Jaime went forward with the spotlight to expose any of the insidious crab traps that were lying in wait. They would be all too eager to entangle themselves in our prop. That would be a nasty occurrence in Gulf Stream conditions in the dark so we were pretty happy when the bottom started to drop away. There aren’t many crab fisherman here hungry enough to set traps in 500 feet of water.
The sun came up 7 minutes past 7AM. By then we were approaching our waypoint, the spot that we had planned our route from. It was a few miles off shore so we were now well under way. We decided to wake people up back home and let them know that we were crossing. At least someone would know where to start the search for us if we didn’t turn up in Bimini, plus its kind of fun to get your Dad out of bed at 4AM once in a while; keeps them on their toes.
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The winds were forecast to be South, South and South for days so it shouldn’t have been any surprise to us that they were exactly North at 12 knots. This was cause for a little concern, as I’ve mentioned the Gulf Stream is no place to be for a small boat when the winds are from the North. 12 knots would be okay, but if it picked up any more we could get into trouble. The seas were gradually building. Everyone says that if things don’t feel right, turn back early because conditions will almost certainly be worse once you’re in the Gulf Stream. For the time being it was allowing for a nice point of sail though and there was no sign that it should get any worse so we both decided that we would give it some time.
By noon we were getting bounced around pretty good and were relieved when the wind started to finally clock around. It went from North, to Northeast, and then East. Then it stopped and started to pick up. Now we had 17 knots of East wind right on the nose. We were pounding directly into wind and waves, gross. Because the wind had been blowing from the North all morning, the seas were really confused now and started sloshing around from every direction. It made for a really uncomfortable ride for a few hours, not to mention cutting our speed in half. The discomfort we could handle, we could even get past the disappointment of having to motor instead of sail, but making landfall in Bimini after dark was an unsettling proposition. If it came down to it we would probably have waited offshore all night before attempting the tricky Bimini harbor entrance. Fortunately that wasn’t necessary. The lazy wind finally got off its ass and eased its way over to the Southeast. I was able to adjust our heading a little to the North so that we could sail close hauled without missing our landfall altogether. Once we showed our sails to a fresh breeze we took off like a shot. We averaged 7-8 knots and even made 10 surfing down some of the waves. We were both surprised at how well the little slapdash sailed even though we have her loaded down so heavily with fuel, water and provisions. In a couple of hours we had made up for all the time we had lost and were back on schedule. We would be in Bimini before sunset.
We were pulling down the sails at about 5PM. Now for the tricky part. The unfair thing about a big day like this one is that after all that hard work you still have the hardest part ahead of you. You need to navigate your way from deep water through shallow water (which usually has some reefs and sandbanks sprinkled around) into an unfamiliar harbor, and then into a marina full of other boats, and then finally into a slip. When we arrived at the coordinates we had plotted for this entrance we were looking at sand and breakers. There were a couple of markers so we knew we were at the right place, but it took a lot of nerve to motor straight towards the frothy white breakers and the sandy beach. You watch your depth sounder come to life as the depth goes from a couple of thousand feet to about 60 feet almost immediately. Then 30 feet, then 20, then 6, then panic. The water is so clear that it feels like you are about to run aground in 20 feet of water, so you can imagine how it feels when you are in 6 feet with sand to the left and breaking waves to the right. We trusted what plans, advice from friends, and the markers were telling us though, and pretty soon we were safe inside the harbor.
A half hour later we were secure in the Blue Water Marina. I had rigged up our yellow quarantine flag (Q flag) on the way in. Now, as required by maritime law, it was flying from our starboard spreader. This means that nobody except the captain can enter or leave the ship until all the necessary clearance rituals have been completed. Just like landing in an airport in another country, you can’t just collect your bags and go about your business; there are some formalities to attend to. Jaime let me be the captain today so once we were all tied up I took our passports, the ships papers, crew list, customs and immigration forms and went to find the government offices. On the way out of the marina I was told to turn left and go to the yellow building first. Once I was finished there I should report to the pink building. Even I could handle those directions.
Nobody was sure when they closed, apparently you just go and check. If they’re there then they are open. If not, well, then they’re closed. Customs was no problem. I handed over our passports and paperwork and paid $150 for a cruising permit which allows us to splash around here for up to 90 days. At the pink building (immigration), I interrupted a back gammon game and a heated discussion between the official and some local guy. The topic was girl trouble. He said that they were closed but he would take just one more. In 5 minutes I was out of there and in 10 was back at the boat.
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We were pretty excited to take down the Q flag and hoist up the Bahamian courtesy flag. If you are visiting a foreign country (ie, a Canadian vessel in Bahamian water) then you need to fly their countries flag higher than any other on the boat. Once you have that flag up you have officially arrived, so now its time to shower up and go find some conch fritters!
Today we explored Bimini and filled our bellies with more conch. Conch fritters, cracked conch, and conch salad (ceviche) are all on the menu. Some guy even tried to sell us a conch shell for 20 bucks. This is hilarious since they are piled up in huge mounds here all over the place. When you walk along the beach you have to watch out that you don’t step on one. They line the top of their fences with them instead of barbed wire. Still, I guess he wouldn’t be peddling them if people don’t buy them from time to time. You have to wonder. We saw a guy cleaning about 200 beside a pile of thousands of shells, it was his mornings catch. I’ve never seen this done before so started chatting with him. He made it look easy of course, but I think for all the trouble and mess it would make we’ll just buy them prepared for the going rate of about a buck a piece. He introduced himself as Friendly Joe and pretty soon he was sharing the pieces that he ate raw with me calling it Bahamian Viagra. It wasn’t bad, as for the Viagra effect; well you will just have to try it yourself.
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We learned that Bimini was an old Hemmingway haunt. Apparently he fished here a lot, drank here a lot and wrote a few chapters of “To Have and To Have Not”. There are pictures all over like these ones, a Hemmingway festival in August and of course a requisite Hemmingway museum. Apparently he stopped coming here in the thirties though, it was getting too ‘built up’.
We spent the rest of the day tracking down some world famous Bimini bread. We passed up the Burger Queen and bought 4 lobster tails off some guy for 12 bucks instead. Speaking of which, its just about time for our lobster dinner. It is a humble existence, but we manage.
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December 2007 Florida
saturday december 1, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
Today Pam and Ken flew out. They would be spending the second week of their vacation doing some diving in Saba, a tiny island off of Martinique. They needed to be at the airport by 9:30 so it would be another early day. We thought that if we were up by 6:30 that it would allow enough time to get ready and make the two trips necessary to get all people and bags ashore and to the rental car they had arranged. With the exception of being a little darker than usual, everything seemed to be working out just fine. We were nearly ready to leave when I put my watch on. As I strapped it to my wrist I wondered why it read 4:55AM. A quick glance at the kitchen clock confirmed that the day was indeed still on the dark side of 5AM. Pam’s watch had somehow been set to another time zone and so the alarm had gone off a couple hours early. It was pretty funny and since we were all up anyway we just put the coffee on and sat around chatting in the dark until the sun came up.
A couple hours later we were saying our goodbye’s to them at the Miami International Airport. The week went by pretty quickly and we were happy for the visit.
We spent the rest of the day taking care of as many items on our laundry list as possible, …including the laundry. We did some grocery shopping, packed over a hundred liters of water back to the boat, and priced out some of the larger items we still need for long range cruising.
When we finally got back it was getting late. We saw a couple of boats we recognized from Velcro Beach though, and were glad that they had found the same anchorage. We were supposed to have met up with them a few days ago further north but missed each other, so now we would have a second chance.
tuesday december 4, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
We’ve taken the last couple of days to organize the boat a little and relax. It’s been fairly busy over the past week so it was nice to just kick back and take it easy. It seems like it has been a while since we’ve just sat back and enjoyed the boat so it has felt pretty good.
We are still in the same little anchorage and have been watching the boats come and go. There are a lot of Canadian boats around, mostly from Montreal. We were pretty excited to meet a guy yesterday who was from our home town, Vancouver. We had a lot to talk about since he had just bough a boat here as well and being Canadian was jumping through all the same hoops. He had a tonnage drama of his own and was even using the same guys we were.
We were getting ready to leave and meet some friends for happy hour when a speed boat with 6 kids in it came roaring into the anchorage. They were doing laps around the place towing a guy on a wake board. Given the size of the anchorage, they were forced to weave around boats and cut it really close. There was good drama when some people started yelling and swearing at them, and they just kept on going. What could anyone do? A bunch of sailboats and 5HP dinghies aren’t much of a match for a 150HP ski boat. They obviously knew that and didn’t care in the least about all the pissed off cruisers. This one old guy in his boat headed straight for them though and forced them to swerve away at the last second. When they did the guy on the wakeboard fell and when they turned to pick him up the old guy in the other boat dropped his shorts and mooned them while he slowly puttered away. The whole scene was pretty comical, and we didn’t want to leave the boat unattended while they were there so we just sat on our roof and watched it all unfold.
Because of all this we left a little late to meet up with the rest of the Velcro Beach crew. When we finally did, we were only half way to the bar when we met up with their two dinghies headed in the opposite direction. They were on their way back to their boats, so we filled them in on what had happened and made some plans to meet up a little later on.
Once we got to the bar we ordered up some beer and wings and realized that we were clearly settling into a completely different lifestyle. Take tonight for example; we had made plans to meet up with some friends. Pretty ordinary. Then something happened to make us late which is also typical. But today it wasn’t a broken dishwasher, traffic or a flat tire; it was a bunch of kids terrorizing the neighborhood in a speedboat. Then, when we meet up with our friends it was in the middle of a canal. There were six of us, 3 couples, each in their own dinghy. We bobbed around there for a couple of minutes in the middle of a canal making revised plans, then pulled the outboards to life and without another word puttered away in our own directions.
I don’t know if the absurdity of this scenario translates all that well, but at the time we thought it was pretty funny. Not too long ago it was blackberries and rush hour, now its dinghies and sunsets. Maybe it was the news we had just received of the snowstorm back home that made this stand out to us, or maybe it was just the beer. Either way we’re glad we’re here.
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thursday december 6, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
I can say with confidence that we now own more chain than any of our friends back home, and it didn’t come easy.
Today was a horrible day. It started early, it ended late. We left the slapdash at 8AM and after I completed my daily ritual of scooping the water out of the dink with a plastic cup we started loading a whole bunch of crap into it. Stuff like laundry, a TV set that came with the boat that we were going to try and sell, and a bunch of charts that we would no longer need and a bunch of I don’t even remember what else. We made the 15 minute commute to the Southport Raw bar where we are now on a first name basis with most of the staff. They let you tie your dinghy up to their waterfront patio as long as you spend 10 bucks there at some point during the day. This is the best deal going because most places just charge you 10 bucks. At the Raw Bar you can get a parking spot for your inflatable, a pitcher of beer and a dozen wings for the same price. Vive la Raw Bar.
We waited out front for a few minutes before our rental car guy came to pick us up. We had accumulated a huge list and had big plans for the car today. We dropped off the laundry and headed for Sailorman. Sailorman is a huge new and used place where you can get all kinds of boat stuff at discounted prices. We started making the list a couple of days ago and had already scouted the place out so knew exactly what we needed. Even so we still spent 2 or 3 hours there. The big purchase was all this chain. After some haggling we got a great price on some 5/16th high tensile AACO chain. Yeah, I thought I might pick up some Spanish on this trip and instead I now speak chain. When I say “some” I actually mean 150 freaking feet. This may not sound like much, until you see it all stretched out across the parking lot (so that it can be measured) and then in a big pile on the floor waiting for you to carry it away. They don’t bag it, they load it into a crate and use a dolly to bring it to your car, and once it’s in the car it becomes your problem. With that on our minds we carried on, only a hundred and seventy five more stops and we could call it a day.
We saw the crazy Cubans at the pawn shop and offloaded our television set. They paid cash and didn’t ask to see any ID or even ask our names, hmmm. We drove to a propane gas place to try and get the fitting we would need to fill our tanks in foreign countries and missed them by 10 minutes. As usual we ended up at West Marine at some point during the day, and we even managed to spend an ungodly amount of money having our new decals made up. These are without a doubt the most expensive stickers I have ever bought in my life, but they look great and now we are all set to fly our colors once the paperwork finally arrives.
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It was dark, we were exhausted, clammy, snarling at each other, had been relieved of many hard earned dollars, and way past ready to call it a day.
Have you ever tried to transport 150 feet of 5/16th chain out of the back of a rental car, into a dink, a half mile down a canal, and into a catamaran? Well last night that little task is what was standing in between us and our bed. Neither of us were feeling especially chipper after a long day of supporting the Fort Lauderdale economy, but we had no choice. As I mentioned earlier, the dink was tied up to the front of a bar/restaurant, and last night they were doing a brisk business. In other words, the patio was packed. It would appear as though we had a sold out show waiting to watch our special slapdash dog and pony show.
I asked for a dolly from one of the bar staff, fortunately they had one and let us use it. We had managed to somehow lift the crate out of the trunk, and the dolly made the trip from the car to the dock possible. We still had a 5 foot drop from the dock down to the dink though, and when it saw what we had planned for it this evening I think I actually let out a little whimper. The onlookers were gathering too. I don’t blame them, I would have been openly staring at us with a cold beer in my hand from the patio too if given the chance. They were all waiting for a catastrophe and normally we would have obliged but this night the chain gods smiled upon us. Instead of trying to lower the crate into the dink all at once (which would have killed us both and sunk the dink) we just found the end of the chain and began feeding it into the dink. It worked like a charm and 10 minutes later we had an inflatable full of chain… and a manual windlass, and a generator, and vinyl protector, and a patch kit, and about a million and twelve other things that never cross your mind when you are sitting at work daydreaming about sailing around the world. Last night we slept like the dead.
friday december 6, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
Today we had to make a couple of returns, get the only two things left in Fort Lauderdale that we didn’t already buy yesterday and return the rental car. The agenda was much less aggressive and getting money back and getting rid of “stuff” always seems like a good deal. We were much happier today and things went pretty smoothly.
In a couple of hours we are going to be picking up Ben and his girlfriend Kristy whom we’ve never met. We had made Ben’s acquaintance 2 nights ago though. He was unfortunate enough to pick the table next to ours as we drank our 10 dollar dinghy ransom at the Raw Bar. He was trying to study for his final exam, and we (by we I mean me) were being loud and unruly. Sooner or later I found out that the exam he had no hope of studying for while in our (by our I mean my) presence was to get his US Coast Guard Captains license. I also learned that his girlfriend would be coming into town that weekend and they both love to sail. In fact, Captain Ben (I just talked to him a few minutes ago. He passed so is in fact Captain Ben) had tried to charted a boat for her visit but found them to be way too expensive. So there he was, all knowledge and no boat. There we were, all boat and no… you get the point.
So, with the exam now behind him Ben will pick up Kristy tonight at 8:30. We’ll meet them at, yes, the Raw Bar. Tomorrow we head for the high seas and do some sailing. We’ll cover the fine points of reefing, do some man overboard drills and learn everything we can from him while everything is fresh in his mind from his test. By the way Ben, congratulations on being brand new CAPTAIN Ben.
saturday december 7, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
Last night we went down to the Raw Bar at the prescribed time to meet up with Ben and Kristy. This had to be a covert mission because we were hassled by water cops the night before. If you can believe it, they want us to put red and green running lights on our dinghy in addition to the stern light we had already installed to satisfy their requirements a few weeks ago. Keep in mind we are talking about a 9 foot inflatable boat with a 5 HP outboard here. I’m not sure if this is a county thing but we couldn’t find any such requirement in the USCG regulations.
The aqua 5-0 had pulled up beside us in their big power boat and issued a verbal warning after taking down our boats’ name. “Next time it will be a citation” said the heavily armed power tripping officer while looking down on us past his massive outboard engines. Wow. These guys have a row of 10 power boats like this docked in the canal beside us. Each of them outfitted with a few 200 horsepower outboards and god knows what else. I can’t even guess at their replacement cost, maintenance cost, and the combined salaries of the officers that run them. Check into it Florida State tax payers; While kids in power boats are wakeboarding through anchorages, and 60 foot power yachts are flying through no wake zones these heavily resourced officers like to spend their time hassling dinghy’s about running lights. Hilarious.
Ben and Kristy were running a little late, but we had met up with a couple of Canadians at the bar. This was the guy who we met before that was jumping through the same hoops we were to satisfy the Canadian governments’ requirements for registration. The first time we met we had commiserated about that crazy process, but this time we were celebrating. He had finally received his registration and was all set to leave the next morning. His nephew from Edmonton had flown in to join him (via WestJet) and in the morning they would set off for the Bahamas.
Bob kindly invited us aboard for a drink and a tour. He had fuelled up a few hours prior so his boat was only a few steps from where we were sitting. This was not the type of boat we were used to seeing. It was a beautiful 74 foot custom built motor yacht. Leilani had 7 foot ceilings throughout so there wasn’t a room that I couldn’t stand up straight in. Complete with leather sofa, matching loungers, and a couple of 1500 HP diesel engines it wasn’t hard to get used to.
A little while later Ben and Kristy showed up. They were invited aboard as well and after some introductions we finished up our beers and our tour and said our goodbye’s. We headed back to the dink and, after our time on Leilani, it never looked so small. But what it may lack in size, aesthetic appeal, ability to hold air and lack of red and green running lights, it more than makes up for in attitude. It’s the little engine that could, and being confined inside it with a couple of guests forces a rather hasty acquaintance. Try remaining strangers with someone when your elbows and knees are touching. By the time we made it back to the slapdash we could tell that our serendipitous new associates would likely become fast friends. Kristy had just arrived from Chicago and Ben had only hours before passed his Captains exam with a 98%. There was a lot to celebrate so we did.
The next morning after a big breakfast we pulled up anchor and headed for the inlet. This would lead us straight out to sea where we would spend some time sailing around and learning what we could from Ben’s considerable experience. We weren’t half way out the inlet when we realized that this was going to be a perfect day for it. Waves were pitching us around and washing right over the bow. These were the biggest seas we had seen from the slapdash but we knew that we would see a lot bigger so just took it as it came. For a while the excitement of it had us all laughing and cheering. When we were outside of the channel we hoisted the main and unfurled the genoa. Then we killed the engine and raised the drive leg. If you haven’t experienced this moment it’s a tough one to convey. If you have you already know exactly what I’m talking about. The moment you shut off auxiliary power and carry on, usually gaining speed, only with the power you are harnessing from the wind it’s something special. Everyone on the boat that day felt the same, and for a while we just held the course and enjoyed the sensation of speed without the sound and smell of internal combustion.
It wasn’t long before the effects of the rolling sea, the celebrations the night before, and the big breakfast started to set in. The whole crew was feeling it and before long Jaime and Kristy had assumed positions; one on the back of each hull where their breakfast made its second appearance. With that out of the way they were feeling better, but nobody was in top form so it seemed like a good time to practice “heaving to”. This is a maneuver in which you position boat and sails in a manner that they oppose each others’ forces. The end result is a little like pulling the e-brake in your car; you stop. It’s a pretty cool thing. Right there in rolling waves and windy conditions the boat is fixed in its position enough to create calm slick water on one side of the hull. This reduces the motion of the boat considerably making things a lot more comfortable. Before long Jaime spotted some fish that were taking shelter in the calm water beside the boat. It was great to see clean blue water, ocean swells, and a peek at the fish we would soon be having for dinner. This was a taste of how our post-ICW days would be spent.
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Early in the afternoon the seasickness and an approaching storm led us to make the good decision to turn back for the anchorage. It wasn’t long before we had the sails in and were making a course through the incredibly congested Port Everglades inlet. There were countless power boats, sailboats, yachts over a hundred feet long, tankers and 6 behemoth cruise ships all in the immediate vicinity. After spending a day on the open ocean this whole scene was especially claustrophobic for us. On the plus side it was amazing how quickly any symptoms of sea sickness were abated once we were in calmer waters of the harbor. It only took a few minutes before everyone was back to normal.
As expected we had learned a ton from Ben just by spending time sailing with him. It wasn’t from an intense regime of skills and drills or anything. It was seeing how someone with experience handles the million little things that seem to make sailing half art and half science. For being complete strangers only a short time ago, we all got along really well and when the time came we were sad to see them go. There was no way to tell if we would see each other again but something tells us that our paths will cross again.
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After dropping them off at the dock we finally saw these big fish that frequent the marina that a few people have been telling us about. We didn’t have our camera with us but there are these massive Tarpons that come right up to the dock. I guess the restaurant throws their scraps in there every night and since they are happy to eat just about anything they partake in the free meal. These things are 5 feet long and a couple hundred pounds a piece. They look like some kind of science experiment gone wrong and would be more at home on the set of Jurassic Park then at the end of a dock in Fort Lauderdale. If there was anything to signal the time for our departure that was it. With “seeing sea monsters” scratched off our list it was time to go.
sunday december 8, 2007 (north miami, fl)
As usual we were happy to be moving again. We seem to enjoy ourselves the most when we are traveling, and even though this would be a short day it was still nice to be underway. Our friends on Zing had called the night before and weren’t far from us. They were now on their way back north for some boat repairs. We hadn’t seen them since they left Velcro Beach so we were both excited to take advantage of this chance encounter. They gave us directions to the uncharted anchorage they were in and it wasn’t hard to spot their 43 foot St Francis catamaran. That afternoon we were setting our anchor beside them; the only two boats in the whole bay. It’s incredible; surrounded by huge Miami condos, only a couple of hundred yards from the main channel and for the first time since we crossed into Florida, we are the only boats here.
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As usual the hospitality on the Island of Zing is unparalleled. We tried to even the score by taking the first shot. As soon as our anchor was down we had them over to our boat for drinks and some pie Jaime had made. It wasn’t long before we were feasting on steaks back on Zing Island though. I don’t know how they do it but they seem to be able to out host us without even trying. After dinner we enjoyed a dip in a nearby swimming pool and a good long soak in the hot tub. Not a bad way to end the day.
monday december 9, 2007 (north miami, fl)
Zing carried on their way this morning but not before Dave had helped me rig a couple of things on our main sail. He has been sailing since he was 5 so with his help the job took about 20 minutes. It would have taken me hours to get things sorted out through my usual trial and error method of discovery. We spent the rest of the day enjoying having the anchorage all to ourselves. We also caught up on some emails and took care of some other mundane boat chores. We finished the day off with a couple episodes of HBO’s Rome.
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Speaking of emails, thanks to those who wrote to point out that I had mistakenly referred to Key Largo a couple of times when we had actually taken the Harley’s to Key West.
tuesday december 10, 2007 (north miami, fl)
We were going to leave for South Beach this morning but are having a hard time giving up our own personal anchorage for the hustle and bustle of the Miami waterway. Besides it’s Monday which has become our official slapdash sleep in day. Consider it our salute to the employed. One day will come far too soon and we will need to rejoin their ranks, but in the meantime we like to celebrate the start of a new work week from the comfort of our cabin. Then we sip our coffee sometimes mixed with Bailey’s and have a long and drawn out breakfast. At the office people are already into their second coffee break by the time we get the dishes cleared away.
Don’t get me wrong. This is no life of easy leisure. Shuttling water in a leaky dink, doing some kind of boat maintenance every day, generating your own power, even taking out the trash is a planned and orchestrated event. By way of a small example to illustrate this, my hair was getting a little shaggy so it was time for a cut. On land I simply would walk into the bathroom, plug in the clippers, shave it all down, and 5 minutes later hop into the shower, done. Not quite the case on a boat.
Here the first thing I need to do is find the clippers. I don’t ask Jaime because she gets understandably annoyed with me asking her where things are all the time, so I set out on a solo expedition to locate them. I pretty sure that they are on the port side of the vessel so I start my search there. From where I am sitting writing this right now, these are the things I can see on the port side of the vessel: 2 fishing rods, a hand held VHF, a case of motor oil (heavy duty SAE 30), 3 dock lines, a folding chair, a folding bike, 2 backpacks, a pair of shoes, a ditch bag (currently being used as a laundry bag), a fire extinguisher, 4 different chart books, an adapter for the IPOD, a bag containing 2 bilge pumps and 20 feet of hose, and a spear. Yes, a spear. Those are only the things I can see without even craning my neck or opening a cupboard. I share that with you only to provide some kind of perspective so that when I say that I had set out to find a set of hair clippers, that you don’t mistake it for an ordinary task.
After several concussions and the port side of our boat resembling the after effects of a hurricane, I return to the surface with the clippers in my hand. Not an easy job but if all that I had to do next was plug them in and commence with a self administered trim I would define it as tolerable. But that’s not what I do next because as with most clippers these are powered with an AC current. No problem for you, big problem for us. Boats generate DC current, the same as the cigarette lighter in your car. We do have a small inverter that you can plug into the DC outlet which converts (inverts?) the power, but it won’t provide enough juice to run the clippers properly. Since I want to trim my hair and not rip it from my scalp in clumps another solution is required. We are floating in the middle of a bay so shore power is not an option. Time to introduce the Honda 2000 EU. This gas powered engine turns a generator that will crank out more than enough power to run hair clippers. So I get on with dragging it out of the storage locker. It weighs about a hundred pounds and doesn’t quite fit, so I am required to twist it and maneuver it in exactly the right angles to set it free. It’s a lot like trying to maneuver a sofa up 3 flights of stairs into your apartment building. It will work but not without either an advanced understanding of trigonometry, or several attempts of back breaking knuckle skinning trial and error. As I’ve already eluded to, my methods fall cleanly into the second category. 10 minutes and 8 bloodied knuckles later my clippers and my generator and I are now on the back deck. I check the oil, add some gas, and start the engine. With clippers plugged in and generator happily generating it’s finally go time.
Clippers are pressed to scalp and I savor the satisfaction of removing a patch of fuzzy hair to reveal a neatly trimmed area of scalp. I have exactly 4 tenths of a second to enjoy this. That’s how long it takes for the wind to transport the hair trimmings recently freed from my scalp to blow directly into my face, the cockpit, and eventually the cabin. With one patch of missing hair right down the middle of my head I shut the whole operation down and start closing doors, windows and hatches. I have to seal Jaime inside the boat. I’m now locked outside with the generator, my clippers, my hair, a broom and a dustpan. 10 minutes later the haircut is finished. An hour after that and the hair is swept up, the generator and gas can are put away and the mess I made of the port hull has been reversed.
Don’t feel too sorry for us though. These lazy Monday mornings more than make up for any personal grooming hardships that we may face.
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wednesday december 12, 2007 (north miami, fl)
If there was one area that we really prepared for, I mean that we were totally rock solid ready for, it was our dentistry. Say what you will about our lack of sailing experience and general preparedness for this journey and we will probably agree, but when it comes to our teeth you can forget about it. In this area we run circles around the competition. Collectively we logged at least 10 visits to the Dentist chair in the months leading up to our departure. We both had great dental plans and it only made sense to take full advantage before we left. Leaving with perfect sets of ivories could only mean one less thing to deal with after we left. After all, who wants to deal with a cavity in Bullocks Key? Or try to have a tooth removed on Crooked Island? Who wasn’t horrified by the scene in Castaway when Tom Hanks used an ice skate and a big rock to take care of a bad tooth? We took the steps necessary to ensure that we wouldn’t share that awful fate. Kudos to us, or so we thought.
The next time you are munching away on Cajun flavored trail mix take note of the sounds. This is not the type of discreet snack that you would quietly sneak handfuls of at the office during a meeting, and probably not the right selection to secretly nibble on during your cousins wedding. No, this is a live sporting event type of chew. You don’t want to unleash the Cajun trail mix on anything less than rowdy crowds or the great outdoors. Expect at least a dozen different inflections of chomp, munch, and crunch. A real chew-with-your-mouth-open-and-wash-it-down-with-cold-beer kind of snack mix, which is exactly what I was doing last night. With the near deafening cacophony of crunches going on at the time, you would be truly surprised at how one little “snap” really stands out from the melee. Immediate reaction; jaw frozen in mid chew. A kind of instant mammalian reflex or something. After a few moments of suspended animation, a cautious exploration can begin. Not easy with a mouth half full of Cajun trail mix debris. Still, the source of the sickening “snap” must be located. Before long I locate the jagged edge of a molar with the tip of my tongue. It’s on the lower left side of my jaw. Next, to isolate the rogue tooth from the Cajun snack mix. Gentle bites soon discover the piece of rubble that doesn’t belong. As suspected the inside of this lower left molar now resembles a miniature version of Mount St Helens, post eruption.
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In retrospect it makes perfect sense. Visit the dentist ten times before you leave and you are going to break a tooth. Murphy and his law will find a way. Buy a spare engine and take it along with you and the engine mounts will fail. It only serves to reinforce our general attitude about this trip; if you wait until you are ready for anything you will never leave. If you are lucky enough to convince yourself that you are ready for anything and finally get to leave, you will undoubtedly find a few surprises along the way that you would have never imagined the need to prepare for. In short, we would far rather be out here with broken teeth then at home in the dentist chair.
I’m planning to have the tooth filled once we get to Cuba. Should make for a nice souvenir.
thursday december 13, 2007 (north miami, fl)
If you’ve never prepared to take a boat offshore you may not know what an EPIRB is. Before we started planning this trip I had no idea, but now I could tell you a lot about Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacons. My studies began a year ago when I first read about an EPIRB, and today I had a one day follow up course.
Essentially these rugged little units increase the chances of your body being recovered after a disaster at sea. Okay, a little morbid. The optimist would say that because an EPIRB will transmit your location to the authorities when activated, you have a better chance of survival. However you want to look at it, they are an important piece of equipment to have on board if you plan to spend a lot of time traveling around on your boat. They will self activate when submerged or they can be manually activated. Using some kind of dark magic, critical information like your location, vessel name, and a few other particulars will be beamed off to various rescue agencies. We have never paid much attention to our EPIRB, but today I stumbled across it while cleaning out one of our compartments and decided that it was about time we became better acquainted. I sat down and removed the cover. I read the tag and anything else that was printed on the outside of the casing. Inside the cover there’s this little green light with a button beside it marked “test”. That seemed like a good idea. Better to test it now than wait until we are in a life raft. The directions appeared to want me to hold down the test button and this other button labeled “GPS I/O” together for one second. So I did. Some other lights came on which alarmed me a little so I hit the “off” button. Everything stopped, so I was satisfied that the batteries were in good condition and I sheepishly put it away before Jaime could ask me what I was doing.
After a few minutes this nagging uncertainty crept over me. I wasn’t sure that I had actually activated the EPIRB, but then again, I couldn’t say conclusively that I had not. I confessed my actions to Jaime and we sat down and read the thing again. Although I feel that I have a legitimate claim that the instructions printed on our EPIRB are misleading, it became obvious to us that if even for only a few seconds, I had in fact activated the thing.
We dug through boxes and piles of papers. Eventually we came across the one with the emergency contact information for the manufacturer. I dialed up the 1-800 number while imagining pagers going off, rescue teams mobilizing, fleets of helicopters with rotors just starting to turn. The EPIRB lady answered and I was relieved. I had imagined being scolded by some gruff commander or something, so when this calm mannered call center girl answered it immediately put me at ease. This would be a piece of cake. I told her the whole story and we built up a rapport while laughing at my crazy antics. Then, just as I was expecting the “no problem we’ll take care of this, you have a nice day sir”, she asked me to hold while she transferred me to the Miami Beach US Coast Guard! I was had. She suckered me into telling her everything and then coldly turned me over to the authorities. Within seconds I was on the phone being scolded by the gruff commander I had imagined earlier. He took down all the information I had and assured me that he would ignore any distress signals from our boat. He hung up before reassuring me that he meant that they would just ignore any distress signals from our boat ‘today’, but should there be any in the future that they will respond immediately. I’m sure that’s what he meant.
After confessing my sins and doing the right thing I felt much better. We put the whole thing behind us and carried on with our day. A couple of hours later we were on the beach and noticed that we had a couple of voicemails and a couple more emails, all from the previous owners of the boat. They were urgent attempts to reach us and full of requests to contact them immediately. Strange. Here’s something new that I learned about EPIRB’s; If a continuous signal is transmitted, they can fix your location within a few yards. In that case the Coast Guard is activated and they will respond to the location. A short signal, referred to as a “burst”, such as the one I released from the unit today, doesn’t contain enough information to pinpoint a location so the Coast Guard cannot respond. It does have enough information in it to transmit your vessel name, owner and emergency contacts. In this area the Coast Guard doesn’t deal with any of that, the Air Force does! Since nobody notified them, the first thing they did was call the emergency contact listed. Of course we haven’t updated any of this information, so the previous owners’ mother was listed. Yep, this poor lady got a call from the Air Force letting her know that they had received a distress signal from her daughter’s boat. You can imagine what happened next, she called Ted and Rhonda, and they started trying to get a hold of us. I let them know that we were still floating and quite safe, and then had to call Officer Spears and explain everything to him. When I was finally patched through to him he already knew all about us. He was sitting in front of his computer laughing at our website. He turned out to be a really nice guy and explained the whole process to me.
Note to self: Update EPIRB emergency contact information, and don’t touch the shiny white button anymore.
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friday december 14, 2007 (south beach, fl)
Legendary South Beach. We were excited to spend a couple of days here and found the perfect anchorage. It was right beside Belle Isle, alongside the Venetian Causeway. After a 5 minute dinghy ride down a little canal we could tie up only a couple of blocks from Lincoln Ave and Ocean Drive.
The beach was gorgeous and so was everyone there. No shortage of glitz and glam, it was like a superficial factory exploded all over the place. It seemed like everyone was model material, and designer fashion, tans, and every type of augmentation are en-vogue here. Bentleys, Ferraris, and Lambo’s were all common place. If you are in the market for a Sugar Daddy (or Mama) this is the place to be. We saw dogs wearing diamond studded collars that were probably worth more than our boat, oh and they were being pushed around in a baby carriage by a Liberace look-a-like.
We may not have fit in all that well, but the people watching was superb. We settled into a place called Zeke’s which has bottled beer from what seemed like every region of the world and every one of them was three bucks. We got through Italy, Thailand and England. A little while later we met our first celebrity. We saw a guy in blue cover-alls peddling a cruiser around with a great big white and red rooster on his shoulder. In some streets of some towns this may strike you as odd, but not this street. We chatted with the guy, and met the celebrity; Mr. Clucky. This rooster has his own website (www.mrclucky.com) and has made appearances on national television. Weird place.
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sunday december 16, 2007 (south beach, fl)
Today we picked up my buddy Micah. By dinghy of course. He came all the way from Calgary to visit for a few days. I’ve known the guy since high school and we were pretty excited to see him. We planned to head for the Keys tomorrow morning, so we spent the night showing him around South Beach. We paid visits to Zekes and a Hookah bar called D’Vine. Even though it was a Sunday night, you wouldn’t have guessed it. The place was still packed, and just as crazy.
Unfortunately we had to forgo our traditional routine of sleeping in on Monday morning to salute the employed. It would be a full day if we were going to make it to Key Largo. Just after sunrise we motored out of our anchorage and headed South once again. It was going to be a perfect day. Clear blue skies, small waves and 15 knots of wind right behind us. The only compromise was the temperature. We were being provided with our brisk Northerly wind compliments of a cold front. It’s amazing how the temperature dips even this far South. Jackets, hats, and gloves were broken out, and sails were raised. The wind didn’t change much at all and we sailed wing and wing all the way to Key Largo.
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We dropped anchor in Sunset Cove just as the sun was setting. It was a full day but we had covered a lot of ground. It was great timing for Micah. Even though he was only here a few days he got to see the sights in South Beach, have an incredible sail to Key Largo, and a day left over to play around in the Keys.
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tuesday december 18, 2007 (key largo, fl)
Today we rented a car and split the cost with Micah. He would use it tomorrow to get back to the airport in Ft. Lauderdale, and we would use it today to get ourselves to the Fed-Ex in Marathon. That’s where the lawyer is forwarding all the documents for our condo sale back home. The deal closes on the 22nd, so we need to have them all signed, notarized and sent back tomorrow in time to get them back to the buyers’ agent for Saturday. Marathon is only 50 miles from here, so its not a big deal. And since Micah has never drove the Overseas Highway it will be a bit touristy as well.
wednesday december 19, 2007 (key largo, fl)
We had a chance encounter with another guy from home today named Warren. He worked for WestJet as well, so it was pretty funny to see him here. We all had a beer at Snooks and made plans to meet up later on. Then we said our sad goodbye’s to Micah and he left for much colder climates. We sent him off with a bag full of books; another slapdash tradition. Be warned, if you come for a visit we will likely send you away with a bunch of our stuff that we don’t want on the boat anymore. Consider it the price of admission. Somehow Warren escaped unscathed though. Maybe that’s why he didn’t come back to the boat with us tonight…
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saturday december 22, 2007 (key largo, fl)
Things were getting a little dull around here so today I decided to shake things up by pouring some diesel into our starboard water tank.
Our boat has two main water tanks; they hold 30 gallons each and are located at the aft end of each hull. We also have two main diesel tanks; they hold 18 gallons each and are located at the aft end of the boat just behind the cockpit. There are 4 fill caps in total, 2 on the starboard side, and 2 on the port. They are all black, and located about 12 inches apart.
When you stay at anchor for any amount of time, sooner or later you are going to need to supply your boat with diesel and water. If there’s no marina near by, you need to take jerry cans to shore in your dinghy, fill them up, return to the boat and pour them into your tanks. I’ve repeated this process multiple times and am now quite familiar with the location of each of the tanks, their contents, and purpose. Modesty would keep me from saying that I was an expert in this field, but I wouldn’t hesitate to claim competence. For this reason, I really have no explanation why today, after removing the cap for the water tank, I placed the long black funnel I use for filling the diesel tanks into the opening and transferred about a half gallon of diesel from the jerry can into one of our main water reservoirs. It only took a couple of seconds before I snapped out of it and realized in a state of horror what I was doing. By then the damage had been done.
I could claim that the fill caps shouldn’t be the same color, or in the same location. I could blame environmental causes and say that it was dark, or too bright and the glare impaired my vision. I could say that I was dehydrated and had low blood sugar. There’s all kinds of excuses to choose from, but the simple truth is that I just plain screwed up, big time.
It had been a long day. We were happy to be back on the boat and filling the fuel tanks was the last chore to be done before firing up the BBQ and cracking a cold one. We were both looking forward to a nice relaxing steak dinner, which would have been timed nicely with the sunset. Now we were in full damage control mode. Jaime wasn’t speaking to me, but she wasn’t yelling at me either, so that was okay. The tank we needed access to rested comfortably beneath the storage room/tool shed/pantry/spares department, or you could just say the worst place imaginable. She removed everything from the starboard aft cabin so that we could get at the now duel purpose water/diesel tank. Fortunately we didn’t use a tap so the diesel would be isolated there and not circulating its way through the boats fresh water system. Once unburied, we started figuring out how to get the water out of it. Of course we had just switched over to this tank after emptying the other one, so it was completely full. We had to deal with a full contaminated tank and worse still, since the other one was empty, we now had no usable fresh water on the boat. I joked that I could go to shore, get some and use it to fill up the fuel tanks, Jaime didn’t think it was very funny.
After trying a few different methods of draining the water, we settled on removing the line that feeds the freshwater pump and attaching it to the bilge pump. This was really effective because it removed the water through a closed system so we didn’t have a big mess on our hands. And since the line draws from the bottom of the tank and diesel floats, we weren’t pumping a bunch of diesel overboard either. We drained the water to the point that the diesel was still in the tank, but it was light enough to move. We then pulled off the rest of the lines from the tank and maneuvered the thing outside where I could safely dispose of the diesel.
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With that done we loaded the laptop into the dinghy and made our way to a little hotel nearby that has a wifi signal. So if you were wondering what we were up to at about 9PM on Sunday night, we were bobbing around in a dinghy 100 ft offshore in front of a hotel leeching off their internet signal trying to google word combinations like, “diesel in water tanks”. We immediately found a whole bunch of potential solutions and was relieved that it looked like I would be able to get out of this without having to order a new water tank, thereby increasing my chances of having Jaime forgive me sometime before Christmas. It also made me feel a lot better reading all the stories of people who have done the same thing. One guy actually topped the tank right off, mixed in his fuel additive, closed it up and made dinner. He didn’t realize that it had happened until he nearly threw up after drinking a glass of water. I tried to help Jaime to see that this kind of thing happens all the time. She wasn’t buying it.
Fun fact. Isopropyl is the active ingredient in rubbing alcohol. Among other things it will break down diesel molecules quite effectively. Apparently Vodka also bears similar chemical properties, although not as concentrated. I took inventory; we had a 1.75 liter jug of Vodka, and 12 ounces of rubbing alcohol. Clearly we would need more supplies. We left the tank on deck, and rebuilt the storage room/tool shed/pantry/spares department so that we could make it to our cabin. After that we called it a day.
sunday december 23, 2007 (key largo, fl)
“What kind of an idiot would pour diesel into his water tank? I mean, an accidental EPIRB activation, that could happen to anyone, but diesel in your water tanks?” If you had told me this story a week ago that’s exactly what I would have said. But there I was today, walking along the side of the road with a contaminated water tank under my arm on the way to the carwash. I had 6 bottles of rubbing alcohol, a big bottle of Vodka, 2 gallons of some bio-degradable degreaser and a roll of quarters in my back pack. Let’s rumble.
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Once I got to the car wash I read the directions on the degreaser. It said to mix 4:1 for tough jobs, so I mixed it 1:1. After swooshing it around for a while I sprayed it out with the power washer and made enough suds to fill up the reservoir underneath the carwash. Half a roll of quarters later and the tank still smelled like diesel so I poured the next gallon of degreaser in straight. I could just get my hand inside the inspection port on the top of the tank, so I scrubbed the inside as best I could. Then back to the power wash and I made even more suds than the first time, but it was starting to work.
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On a side note, if you ever see a guy in the carwash with his water tank, cut him some slack. It was funny to see how people sitting in their cars would get all excited. Even though I was spending far less time in there than it takes to spray down the average vehicle, people were still getting all impatient. I have no idea why.
After round 2 of the degreaser and a bunch of fresh water rinses I walked my pet water tank back to the boat. Once there I dumped all the rubbing alcohol and Vodka inside and let it sit overnight.
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monday december 24, 2007 (key largo, fl)
The great diesel fiasco: Day 3
We drained out the tank this morning and it now smells like nail polish remover. Sounds terrible but trust me, it’s a whole lot better than diesel. We ran a bunch of batches of our magic rubbing alcohol / Vodka mixture through the fill line as well. Jaime would be out on deck pouring it through the fill spout, and I would be at the bottom catching it in a pan. Then I would carry it up to her and we would do it again. We repeated this process until we were satisfied that there were no pesky diesel molecules hiding in the line anywhere. We removed all the contents of the storage room/tool shed/pantry/spares department for the second time in as many days and re-installed the water tank.
Before breakfast I went to shore and brought back 20 gallons of water, so once it was installed we filled it up. It passed the taste test and the smell test. We’ll be using it for cleaning and stuff until we cycle through a bunch of fills though. Once that was finished we put everything away and celebrated the fact that we have successfully remedied one more self inflicted disaster.
We may be big believers in the whole learn-by-doing program. That said, if you should feel the need to try this out for yourself you are mad. It was a horrible experience and I was scared to close my eyes because I thought Jaime may kill me in my sleep.
tuesday december 25, 2007 (key largo, fl)
We were pretty happy to spend our holidays on the boat. We ate and drank like royalty and enjoyed our very un-typical holiday. At this point we are pretty much just waiting for our registration so we can get out of here. We’ve ordered up everything we need for the boat and the last of it should be in by Saturday.
We have also put the whole ICW behind us. We racked up over 700 miles, 60 or 70 bridges, a bunch of cool experiences and visited places we’ve never been to. We saw dolphins, sharks, alligators, pink flamingos, pelicans, manatee’s, crazy people, crazy boats, and learned how to fish for crabs with a chicken neck. It feels like we are leaving high school and going to college now. This is our little break before the first semester in the big leagues. We’ve run out of road and now the next step is to cross an ocean. Needless to say, we’re both really pumped and this registration can’t get here soon enough.
On that note, just to belabor the whole registration thing a little further, our Tonnage experts (you know the ones we paid 700 dollars to for about 45 minutes of work?) forgot to send the report in. 700 dollars to flash a tape measure around for a few minutes and you can’t even send in the bloody survey? Well that’s exactly what happened. So now with offices closed for the holidays our registration has yet to be processed. The good news is that we’ve confirmed that TC has everything they need. Our registration will be issued as soon as the offices re-open and couriered to us in Marathon. The minute we have it, the new decals will be affixed, our flag finally hoisted and we’ll get out of here during the first available weather window.
In the meantime, this is how Christmas in the tropics looked from the deck of our boat:
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friday december 28, 2007 (key largo, fl)
We accomplished a couple of things around the boat today. First off, our anchor light burnt out. We needed to replace it but couldn’t find any specs in the owners manual. That meant we would have to go up and check it out. If you live in a house this may not sound like a big deal. In a house you can solve even the most pesky light changes without having to look much further than a chair from the kitchen table. An anchor light on a sailboat is logically positioned at the highest possible spot. This makes the light more visible to other boaters, and hopefully keeps you from being run down in your sleep. It makes sense but presents a challenge when the time comes to change it. You need something that can provide a little more elevation than a kitchen chair; the tool of choice for this is a bosun’s chair. Essentially this is a seat and harness combination. It’s got room for one person, and with the help of a winch and a line it can whisk you to the top of a mast pretty handily. This is Jaime’s department. Today she was swinging around 50 feet or so off the deck inspecting light bulb serial numbers while I did the grunt work of hoisting her up and down. She was able to retrieve the suspect bulb and we can now go and match it up with a working version. Then we will repeat the whole process in order to install the new bulb. Only on a boat is changing a light bulb a multi day ordeal. Oh, and have I mentioned that Jaime is scared of heights?
We also decided to get our new decals up. We don’t have the registration to match them yet, but figured that since we won’t be traveling too far before we get our papers that it wouldn’t hurt to have them affixed in advance. Before we could do that though we had to get the old decals off (which isn’t much fun). Our friends on Zing were anchored beside us and said that Easy Off (yes, the oven cleaner) worked really well for this. We didn’t have any of course so Jaime took the dink over to Zing and did some horse trading. She was back a few minutes later with a rusty can of oven cleaner and we got to work on removing the old decals. A few hours later, although a little sunburned and sweaty, we had our new decals up. It was great to see the slapdash moniker and home port finally displayed on our boat. We celebrated with crews from Zing and a couple of their friends from Miami.
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November 2007 Florida
friday november 2,2007 (st. augustine, fl)
Before we left Vancouver we had prepared ourselves for the unavoidable. We were going away for 4-5 years and knew that we would eventually need to celebrate, commiserate and grieve with friends and family while far away from home. Two sets of our closest friends are currently expecting their first kids, another their second, and some others that you may have already read about were married not long ago. We had expected things like this, but nothing prepared us for the sad news we received during our stay in Fernandina Beach. We received the worst possible news from home. A good friend of ours had died.
I’ve known Pawan for 10 years. He passed away early Sunday morning shortly before his 30th birthday.
Pawan and I spent our twenties doing the same jobs in the same cities across Canada. His seemingly bottomless reservoir of energy and sometimes implausible positive outlook were practically a trademark. Those things and his sense of humor will likely be remembered the most. Whether it was towing around a broken down de-icing truck in Thompson, Manitoba’s 40 below weather, a fifth or sixth move to another city across the country, or leading one of the airlines’ most important and complex stations in Canada’s largest city during challenging times, Pawan never seemed to have a bad day. He was there to turn the lights on in the morning, and was the last one to leave. Pawan would greet you with a smile, handshake, and a slap on the back anytime you showed up. We turned to him for the tough assignments and always found a willing friend ready for anything.
Pawan came all the way to Vancouver for my farewell at the Flying Beaver, one of the last times I would see him. He sent me an email a few days before his last. He was excited about his recent move home and promised to come visit. True to his nature he finished with some corny joke about me becoming a pirate.
Jaime and I spent the next few days trying to make it to an airport. Our plan was to get to Jacksonville and then rent a car to drive to Orlando. From there we could fly back to Calgary in time for Pawan’s funeral. We forwarded our plans to a friend back home and left Fernandina Beach in the middle of a gale. The marina was crammed with boats trying to find a safe haven, so trying to leave was a real treat. We called up everything we could remember about pushing off a dock in a headwind with a following current in a crowded marina, and even had the boating and seamanship guides spread out all over the table before we left. Our collective knowledge on this subject did not amount to much but despite the odds, we somehow still managed to get ourselves out of the “parallel parked” scenario we were in, turned around 180 degrees, and out of the marina without hitting anything. Now if we could make it to Jacksonville the rest would be easy.
We let our friends Mike and Shan know that we were trying for Jacksonville, but if they didn’t hear from us that night we would be safe, and were probably just anchored somewhere along the way. I’m glad we sent that email because we didn’t make it more than 10 miles. Sure enough we ended up anchored in some little tributary waiting out weather again, this time in the middle of nowhere with no phone or email access.
The next day we blew right past Jacksonville and ended up in St. Augustine. Winds were still gale force and even though we managed to get the anchor down okay, there was no way we could get to shore. This was incredibly frustrating; not more than a couple hundred yards away from civilization now and nothing we could do. We tried our best to get some sleep. Recall the description from the Fernandina Beach anchorage. This was slightly more comfortable but no less noisy.
The next day (Friday) we considered our options. Still stuck on the boat in terrible weather, it had been 3 days since we last had contact with home. The winds howled and the waves slammed into the hulls but we had to do something. Tropical storm Noel had been upgraded to a hurricane. Best predictions had it passing to the north, but it still wreaked havoc on the coastline. At this point we had finally accepted the fact that we would not be able to make it to Pawan’s funeral. It was a tough pill to swallow but we concentrated on getting this message back home.
We packed a towel and a set of clothes into plastic bags. Wallet and keys were also made water tight and buried in our backpacks. We put the backpacks inside garbage bags and tied them shut. We wore bathing suits and life preservers. The water that sprayed onto the decks every few seconds was warm but the gale force winds that had been our constant companion for the past week chilled us. The dink was barely manageable even while it was still tied to the boat. I thought of a few names worse than dink for it as it maddeningly lurched and heaved itself against the hull. Every time it slammed, a fresh wave of water was sent into my face while I was trying to make it ready for our trip. Finally the engine was sputtering away and I had managed to get myself inside. At that moment I realized that the size of the sea is directly proportionate to the size of the vessel the seas are being measured from.
From the deck of a cruise ship you might consider this situation comical. From my perspective, the deck of a 9 foot inflatable dink with a 4 hp Mercury engine, it was dire. I decided to make a test run alone to see if this was an idea we should see through. At the moment it seemed suicidal. Jaime cast off the line and I was alone. Just me, the dink, and the gale, rapidly being separated from the mother ship with the force of the wind. If the little outboard engine failed now, Jaime and I had a pre arranged plan to meet up in Fort Lauderdale.
By the time I could push the transmission into its only forward gear, the dink and I were 30 yards astern. The only progress to be made at that point was forward, back to Jaime and the slapdash. So that’s what I did. Every time the hull of this little inflatable landed itself against a wave, the resulting salty splash was sent into my face at 20-25 knots. But the boat and I somehow returned together and came around to meet Jaime on the port side where she had cast me off. My synopsis was yelled because it was the only way she could hear me over the wind:
“We can probably make it to shore without capsizing, but if we do we will be as wet as if we had.”
During this exchange of obvious information the dink was alongside of the slapdash and back into the habit of slamming waves into our faces every few seconds. We both spat the salt water from our mouths between sentences. Never one to back away from a little danger Jaime did her best to make the trip to shore sound like it would be a piece of cake. So our bags were immediately loaded and she hopped in. We both did our best to stay centered and low in the hull. I reached back with my left hand to control the throttle and pointed us towards shore.
Half way there we realized that I had stupidly forgotten to bring anything to bail with. At the rate the water was surging over the sides of the poor dink we would have to get to nearest land asap before we flooded the poor thing. We made it to shore but were met by a bunch of “NO TRESSPASSING” signs. We trespassed. After 15 minutes of uninterrupted buckets of saltwater being thrown into your face, you would too.
We tied up at the dock we found behind what seemed to be a new condo development. Jaime went ashore to find someone that would grant us permission to tie up the dink. Remember that at this point we were quite literally drowned rats, so I helpfully reminded Jaime as she strolled up the dock that nearly all Floridians carried guns.
Fortunately the groundskeeper guy she met up with was friendly, had been to Vancouver, loved it, took pity on us and permitted our intrusion. We un-wrapped our backpacks and started a soggy and uncomfortable walk to town.
After cleaning up in a public beach bathroom, toweling off and changing into dry clothes we set ourselves to the task of finding the public library. We eventually did, and took use of their internet services to update our friends and family. In doing so, the reality set in. We promised to present the good, bad and the ugly through this website. Grieving and remembering in isolation of friends and family is one of the downsides of a trip like this one. It sucks big time. Pawan will be deeply missed and we will think of him often.
We slowly made our way back to the boat. We were taking our time because the winds were supposed to ease off later in the afternoon. We strolled through historic Augustine, picked up a tourist map and took our minds off things by doing a little sight seeing. Apparently this Spanish guy named Pedro landed here in 1565 with a bunch of soldiers and colonists. They set up and founded St. Augustine. Now the city claims to be the oldest “continually occupied” European settlement in North America. We checked out Castillo De San Marcos, a Spanish fort that was in incredibly good shape for being well over 300 years old. It was built from coquina stone, which looks a lot like cement made from crushed seashells. There were the usual assortment of old buildings and a few cool stories, like the time in 1668 when a pirate came along and sacked the city. It wasn’t too long after that little fiasco that they decided to construct the big stone fort.
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In the late 1800’s apparently this guy Flagler was really busy over here. A hotel and railroad magnate, his name is on everything from streets, to colleges, hotels and even parks. We keep seeing signs of his influence all over Florida. In St. Augustine we visited Flagler Liberal Arts College and snapped a few pictures. Formerly a hotel, it was built in 1888 and as impressive as any church or fort that we’ve seen so far. If you wanted to learn about liberal arts this would probably be a fine place to do it.
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By the time we got back to the dink, the wind had probably dropped 10 knots or so. Our ride back was a lot less traumatic, but we still managed to get good and wet.
We also saw a small flock of 5 or 6 pink flamingos today. I always thought they were just trailer park lawn ornaments. Sorry, no photographic evidence. You will just have to use your imagination. With Flamingos, Gators, Sharks and Dolphins crossed off our list it would seem that the only quintessential Floridian wildlife left to see here is a Manatee. So far the only ones we’ve seen have been those big Manatee mailboxes that they seem to love over here. We keep seeing signs warning us to watch out and slow down to 35 MPH (never a problem for us) so I’m sure they’re hiding around here somewhere. If we see one I’ll try to be a little quicker with the camera this time.
sunday november 4,2007 (daytona beach, fl)
Today you would find us 50 miles or so south of St. Augustine anchored in front of a sprawling mansion that looks more like a 5 star hotel than a home. Their boathouse is bigger than anybody’s house that I know. Kind of funny how water can be the great equalizer; our neighbors are worth millions and we drive an old dingy.
The weather has cleared up and for the first time in nearly two weeks we can see the sun. Things are looking much more like the Florida depicted on all the postcards. Our jackets are put away and we’re finally back to the standard slapdash uniform consisting of board shorts and bathing suits.
In preparation for our visit to Daytona Beach we watched Talladega Nights. Not sure how that will help but it’s the best we could do. In a little while we’ll go to shore and get ready to “shake and bake”. I don’t know very much about Daytona Beach, and since Ricky Bobby was from Virginia or something I can’t even rely on Hollywood for an accurate rendition. To us the name just seems to conjure up images of Bikers, Spring Breakers, and NASCAR nuts. I’ll let you know after we spend a day or two here if our sweeping generalizations are anchored with even a kernel of truth.
By the way if our neighbors happen to be reading this, come on over! We are the little white catamaran in your backyard. I’m sure you can see us from at least 35 or 40 out of the 50 rooms in your house. We’ll make you KD and wieners and I promise not to pee off the back of the boat while you’re here.
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tuesday november 6,2007 (daytona beach, fl)
One of the challenges of anchoring out all the time is the never ending quest for dingy docks. You would think you could just pull up in any old place, tie up and be on your way. That’s just not the case. Most water front is privately owned. If not then there’s the bridges, highways, railroads and marina’s. That’s why we were happy to find The Stock Exchange. It’s a great little waterfront bar in Daytona Beach, Halifax Harbor. Go there between 4 and 7 pm and drinks are 2 for 1, and yes, there’s a spot right out front for your dingy. We stopped in (just to be sociable) and while Jaime went to the bathroom to make herself less…salty, I ordered up some “Gator Bites”. When she returned of course I let her know that some chicken chunks were on the way. We were half way though before I told her the truth and by that time the verdict had already been reached; Gator Bites are some good eatin’.
Before long we got to know all the local celebrities. There was the captain, the visiting fire chief, the bartender, the bartenders’ mom, hoteliers, some left coasters and a computer animation dude who worked on Shrek but who’s real claim to fame that night was for eating not one but two of the biggest steaks we have ever seen.
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On Tuesday we set out to do some myth busting, but soon discovered that all of our sweeping generalizations about bikers, NASCAR and spring break were pretty much true. There were bikers everywhere, and apparently we just missed “Biketoberfest”. Not only that, Daytona is not only NASCAR central, but as they like to say here; “the birthplace of speed”. The hard packed sand on their straight and long beach was being used to set all kinds of speed records decades ago. They have the self proclaimed words “largest NASCAR store”, and even a theme park near the speedway. Oh, and by the way, remember the people who live in that little shack that we anchored in front of? They own it. Yep. We know because we met their full time, live in Chef. Myth confirmed.
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Speaking of driving and beaches, this is the first place that we’ve been where you get to combine the two. Like every self respecting beach this one had sun, sand, surf… and traffic signs! There’s posted speed limits and cars everywhere. Seriously you have to look both ways before crossing the beach. There are these little toll booths at every beach access point and after you pay your 5 bucks you’re free to drive on.
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We decided to forgo the NASCAR track and theme park, especially since its owners snubbed us on our dinner invitation. After a couple of days we felt that we had pretty much covered off the high points and decided to move on.
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wednesday november 7,2007 (titusville, florida)
Last night the wind kicked up again. After a couple of nice, calm, quite nights at anchor we were both kind of surprised to wake up to the wind howling and the waves slapping again. We must be getting used to it though because after a couple of groggy comments about it to each other we went right back to sleep.
The timing was good this time, we had a 50 mile travel day planned and the north wind would be a nice boost. We go about our pre-departure tasks pretty smoothly now. There are the engine checks, lowering the drive-leg, hoisting the dink and raising anchor. It’s probably 20 minutes from rolling out of bed to being underway; less time than it used to take us to get out the door for work in the mornings. We had the headsail opened wide within minutes of pulling anchor and enjoyed a nice motor sail away from Daytona. Not long after that we were able to shut off the stinkpot, raise the drive leg and continue on under sail for most of the afternoon. This is the first significant stretch that we’ve actually been able to sail and we loved every minute. There were 20 knot tail winds that whisked us along just inside the Atlantic for a good stretch. Dolphins swam alongside the hull from time to time and we hardly had to touch the sails. It was a nice taste and we can’t wait for the next leg of the journey which will involve a lot more.
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We were settled right into this nice sail but had to think about bringing them in for a 90 degree turn that was quickly approaching. It was a hard right that led directly west; away from the Atlantic and back inland through a narrow waterway. There would be a bridge shortly after the turn according to the chart but it also said that it would only be closed during “space shots”. We didn’t know what that meant but decided that it sounded pretty rare. It would be difficult to bring the sails in now with the strong tailwind and probably easier once inside the shelter of channel if we needed to at all. Besides, we were excited to be making such good progress and neither of us really wanted it to end quite yet. Those were the factors that led to the following terrifying moments. It’s always when you least expect it.
We approached the turn and managed the sail easily, but could see that it would be a little tighter than what we had expected. There were jetty’s made from piles of rock jutting out of each side that we would have to skirt around. We had a full genoa and a 20 knot tailwind. Still, not unmanageable and we did just fine until we cleared the corner. Then we saw that the bridge was closed. In itself this wouldn’t have been a problem; we would have easily furled the sail and started the engine while we coasted to a stop well before the bridge. No biggie. The problem was that the bridge had apparently been closed for quite some time. As a consequence, we were now looking at seven boats stacked up between us and this bridge. The stretch we were now in which would have been maybe two city blocks long and 50 yards wide. Claustrophobic by sailboat standards. There are all these boats bobbing around struggling to hold a position while waiting for an opening, and here we come ripping around the corner like a bowling ball headed for a bunch of white pins. To make matters worse (I’m not making this up) a trawler entered the channel behind us soon after we made the corner, so now we had our only exit blocked as well. If you count the masts and hulls in the picture, I think 7 or 8 boats went through in front of us.
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The scene on the slapdash over the next 90 seconds or so was not pretty. In fact, it was probably one of the ugliest episodes of seamanship imaginable. First order of business was to slow our headway. I pulled the helm hard into the wind and Jaime started pulling like crazy on the line that furls the headsail. It only took a few seconds for us to be blown dangerously close to the jetty, so we also had to drop the drive leg back into the water and get the engine started. We weren’t sure if the drive leg was locked into place when it was lowered, so now boathooks were being tossed around the cockpit to press down on and latch the drive leg into place. With the engine now running we were able to point the boat into the wind, get the headsail furled, and narrowly escape the jetty. The Trawler had worked its way past us which gave us enough room to turn around and regain some composure. It happened really fast and probably looked like rabid monkeys having a yard sale, but the crisis was unquestionably averted. In the future we have decided to avoid taking blind turns with a bunch of sail being offered up to 20 knot tail winds, especially right before a draw bridge. Tried it once, didn’t really work out so well for us.
On an aside, we have not found a conclusive definition for “space shots”. But this bridge was very much closed, and according to my Intracoastal Waterway guide it only does so during space shots so we can only be left to assume that we were indeed experiencing some this afternoon. To add to this puzzle, less than an hour prior we were sailing along peacefully when two explosions rang out. They were only a split second apart and thumped like thunder, but had the sharp crack of shotgun blasts. I don’t know if these things were in any way related, but intend to find out. We are going to see the NASA boys and girls over at the space center tomorrow to get to the bottom of this one.
thursday november 8,2007 (titusville, florida)
It didn’t take long to solve the mystery of the double explosions we heard yesterday.
After breakfast we packed up our laundry and shower kits and headed to the marina. This was supposed to be a great marina and have all the amenities that a couple of people living on a boat anchored out in the bay could ever need. It did. The laundry was cheap (a buck a load), and the showers were about the same. It’s always luxurious to have a shore shower; as hot as you want and as long as you want. Land lubbers, don’t ever take it granted. I digress. After a few exploratory incursions down various piers in the marina trying to find the dingy dock, we came around the corner to find that this one section had a bunch of big boulders sticking out of the water. They were big, grey and rounded like the kind of boulders you would expect to see in a river. These were no ordinary river rocks though. These peculiar Titusville marina rocks had the ability to disappear and then reappear a moment later in a different spot. I shut off the dingy motor and Jaime pulled out a camera from my backpack. We drifted a little closer and without the engine running could now hear that the rocks were making a sound that I can only describe as “snurfing”. Kind of the cross between the sounds a big dog would make if it were nuzzling you, and the sound that you would make right after you lifted your head up from under water to blow the water out of your nose. Clearly these were no boulders. They turned out to be giant manatees, like a half dozen of them right there in the marina! I say giant but that’s because the only frame of reference I have is the manatee mailboxes that you see all over Florida. In comparison these were giants. We had no idea they were so big, maybe the size of big sea lions. We snapped a bunch of pictures and moved on. You will see why we initially thought they were rocks but each one of those bumps is actually a big manatee.
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We got turned around and found our way to the dingy dock but on the way there we saw another one, and this guy was working his way around the hull of a sailboat. The owner came out and told us that they are big pests, slurping away at any drain or the algae that grows on the underside of every boats’ hull. Jaime got a shot of this one as well and you can see his big face pressed up against the transom of the sailboat, kind of like a giant hairless aquatic wrinkle dog.
Despite all of the distractions, we finally chanced upon the dingy dock. We tied up and headed for the laundry room. With 3 loads underway we carried on to the marina office to see about some showers and hiring a car. I glanced over at the newspaper box, one of those ones that has the front page of the paper displayed so you can see the headlines, and right there on the front page was the answer to the puzzling explosions that we had heard about 24 hours earlier:
Orlando Sentinel – Thursday November 8, 2007
NASA BOUYANT AFTER SUCCESSFUL MISSION
‘Bolstered by a picture perfect landing of shuttle Discovery on Wednesday afternoon, NASA officials see promoting the success and heroics of the mission as a key reason why humans need to stay in space.’
It turns out that these guys had left earth on October 23rd and until yesterday had been conducting some repairs on the international space station. After some intense interrogation, the NASA guys told us that as the shuttle races earthward, it produces a double sonic boom. Sonic booms are created by air pressure. Much like a boat pushes up a bow wave as it travels through the water, the shuttle pushes air molecules aside and they are compressed to the point where shock waves are formed. The reason for two booms is that the shock waves form at the nose as well as at the tail of the vehicle.
Apparently the people that live near and around the Kennedy Space Center are accustomed to hearing the double booms of a returning shuttle. We weren’t. It scared the living crap out of us.
Mystery solved. Kind of neat that we happened to be here the day the shuttle flew overhead. We decided to chase it down so got some wheels, put the laundry in the dryer and headed for NASA.
- Car rental, 31 dollars…
- Admission for two to the Kenneday Space Center, 80 dollars…
- Your first NASA soft serve ice cream cone?
Uh, yeah. That’s gonna run you another 4 dollars.
That’s all true but don’t be discouraged. This was an outstanding excursion. There were so many cool things to see that even though we had a good 5 hours there, we should have planned for an entire day. It’s NASA for crying out loud, rockets are huge, the place is massive.
We donned our special yellow NASA space goggles and checked out a couple 3-D IMAX films, learned all about space, rockets, shuttles, the moon, Mars, the International Space Station (or ISS as those of us in the know like to call it), and participated in a simulated shuttle launch which was definitely a highlight.
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That giant silver thing Jaime is leaning against which looks like a mutilated piece of the Michelin man is the F-1 engine; the most powerful liquid fuelled rocket engine ever produced. It was used to power the rockets used during the Apollo moon missions. Just one of these engines creates more thrust than all three of today’s space shuttle main engines combined. It was totally bad ass. That next picture is of the Saturn V rocket, the largest operational launch vehicle ever produced (36 stories high and over 6 million pounds). Get this, they strapped 5 of those F-1 engines to it which created 7.5 million pounds of thrust. At the time, except for a nuclear explosion, the launching of this rocket was the loudest man made noise ever produced. Sweet.
Jaime wanted to be a rocket scientist and I was trying to fill an astronaut opening but they wouldn’t even hire us at the concession stand. So we did the next best thing and met this guy, Mark Lee. He’s been to space 4 times, twice as payload commander. It’s the first time either of us have ever met an astronaut, so we reminded him that he has Canada to thank for that big gangly space arm thing.
We even got to see one, and I took a picture.
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Anyone from Canada reading this is laughing right now because although it may be a pretty cool space arm, I guess it was basically our only contribution to the space program but that doesn’t stop us from flogging it like there’s no tomorrow. You can’t see a Canadian government sponsored video of brochure without some kind of reference to or picture of this space arm. Well fellow countrymen, I’m happy to tell you that the men and women at NASA are all well aware of our contribution and appreciate the appendage very much. It actually got a lot of play here which surprised us both. Kudos on the arm Canadian government, now if you could only figure out a way to have our boat registered for less than a thousand dollars. Oh, you’re still paying for the arm? Sorry.
Here we are doing our best hero walk because the orange bars you see are actually part of the very same service arm that Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, and Michael Collins (yes, there was a third guy) used to board the Saturn V rocket on July 16th, 1969. A little while later they were on the moon. Well two of them were, that poor Mike guy got left in the shuttle which is why you’ve never heard of him.
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friday november 9, 2007 (titusville, fl)
We were actually going to head back to the Space Center again today, but after we finally got to shore we realized how tired we were from the day before. We decided to just take it easy, have some breakfast, update the website, and do a bunch of driving just because we could. We had the car until noon.
We didn’t really need to go shopping, but we felt like we had to make the most of our rental car so did anyway. Normally we have to shop by weight but today we bought all kinds of really heavy stuff, and laughed all the way back to the marina about how smug we were for not caring because we had a car. Then we nearly sank the dingy trying to get it all back to the boat.
There were a bunch of old guys on the bridge fishing and I thought this was as good a place as any to get an education. We started chatting with them and pretty soon had more information than we could remember about how to catch fish. After that I went around gathering up all the required items as dictated by the old timers, put them together and made for shore in the dink. I cast, I trolled, I drifted and still nothing. Actually that’s not true, I did catch a tree branch, an old hook and line, and one little fish that wriggled off the hook before I could get him in the bucket. At one point a manatee swam right under my line causing a few tense moments while I hoped that I wouldn’t snag the big lug.
Then I saw the reason for my failure. How could I expect to catch any fish at all with competition like this? It was kind of fun to have the company, Jaime had wisely decided to sit this expedition out so it was just me and him in this little lagoon. Me in my dink and him just floating there eyeballing me with his big yellow googley eyes. We got a little too close for comfort (my comfort) a couple of times and I could see that he was longer than the dink. That would make him at least 10 feet. Most of the time he just floated there and looked at me, but eventually the sneaky old croc casually slipped below the surface. That’s when I decided to leave, empty handed yes, but empty hands still safely attached to my arms.
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On the way back to the boat, I decided to try and stand up in the dingy while driving it. We’ve seen a bunch of other people doing this and have always wondered why. We thought they were just trying to look cool, but I decided to try anyway. At first I was a little shaky, but immediately recognized the benefit; I was staying dry from the knees up. Normally you would be getting splashed in the face, now it was just my legs. A few seconds later I think I figured out the real reason why they do it. I guess because my weight was shifted a little further forward in the boat, and centered which allowed the dink to get out of the water and start to plane instead of plowing through the water. This dink has a little 4 horse power outboard (jealous NASA?) so I never imagined it capable. The difference is that you go at least twice as fast and skip over the waves instead of driving through them. Once you get it to plane, you can crouch back down again and don’t have to stand up. So I think there is still a bit of “cool guy” factor going on there with the stand up guys.
saturday november 10th, 2007 (melbourne, florida)
Today we passed under the NASA Causeway bridge. It was the same bridge we had to drive over on Thursday to get to the Space Center. Fittingly, we were stopped to wait while the bridge opened and then closed for some lousy sailboat. The delay provided us with an interesting new perspective; that being from a car stuck on the bridge waiting for a lousy sailboat to go through.
Nevertheless before the lesson really had a chance to take hold we were back where we were most comfortable; on slapdash with traffic stopped on the very same bridge so that we could amble through underneath. Sorry cars, but it’s not our system. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
Initially we were only going to go as far as Cocoa Beach. There is a launch scheduled for sometime tonight between 8PM and 10:30PM and that is supposed to be a great spot to watch from. I’m a total space nerd now after our NASA visit so I really wanted to see it. It’s a military launch so there isn’t a whole lot of information, apparently an early warning missile detection satellite or something. There’s also this cruising seminar thing in Melbourne that Jaime wanted to check out though, and if we stayed in Cocoa Beach we would miss it. I figured that because it was only another 20 miles along, we would probably still be able to see the launch and get to the cruising conference thing in the morning so here we are.
It was a pretty uneventful travel day filled with the usual trip routine. Except for this one thing, this morning we didn’t start our engine at all. We have been wanting to try this and today the conditions were perfect, only 10 knots of wind and a big spacious anchorage. We just raised the headsail and used the wind to bring us around to raise the anchor. Once that was done it was just a matter of turning the helm over and we slipped away with the wind in total stealth mode. I’m sure its no big thing for any sailor but it was the first time we had tried departing without the engine to help free the anchor, and we felt very smug about it thank you very much.
The only other thing out of the ordinary today was lunch. The last owners left a couple cans of spam in the cupboard so today Jaime made fried SPAM sandwiches… and you know what? They were really tasty. Who knew?
It’s 8PM and I’m off to the front deck now with a blanket and a bottle of wine. If this rocket goes up tonight I’m not going to miss it. The coast guard has been on the VHF all day setting up a safe perimeter for the launch and the navy boats and helicopters are buzzing around all over the place too.
sunday november 11, 2006 (melbourne, florida)
We saw the rocket launch last night. Even before I put the period at the end of that sentence last night, the birds started flapping around and making a bunch of commotion, a strange thing to happen that time of night. You couldn’t really hear anything, but we could detect the noise on some level. We were over 40 miles away and it was more of a sound you could feel, but not hear. We ran outside to see this red streak lifting off the ground.
It was like watching a comet in reverse slow motion. About two and a half minutes later it was gone. With the engines out it disappeared from sight in the black sky instantly. That’s what made the biggest impression on us both I think, just how quickly these things go from sitting on a launch pad to being in orbit. In less time than it takes for the annoying commercial break during your favorite television program, you could be in space. Think about that next time you are watching some jackass trying to sell you a used car.
I took a few pictures but they are pretty bad. Not that I ever thought pointing my camera at a speck of light the size of an almond in the dark would win photo of the year or anything, but it’s the first time we’ve witnessed a rocket launch, so had to try. I can now sympathize with the crazy UFO people out there; it’s got to be tough for you folks trying to get proof.
We got up early the next day to try and find this conference. The program seemed pretty good, and since a bunch of people had recommended it we figured it would be a good way to spend an afternoon. After Jaime finally reached someone who could tell us where the event was being held, we realized that we were in the wrong anchorage. We should have stopped at the last one, about 4 miles back. No big deal though, we would just take the dink to shore, tie it up and walk, cab, or bus it over there. The route over land would be a lot easier than pulling anchor and back tracking the slapdash 4 miles.
This plan was all well and good until we tried to find a place to tie up. Picture this; you’ve got a harbor full of boats, marina’s, fuel docks and restaurants. Think you could find a place to tie up a little dingy? Not here. Actually that’s not entirely true, there was this one crotchety old jerk that would entertain the idea for a mere 5 bucks an hour. Might not sound like much, but think about it, you could rent a car or stay in a cheap hotel for less. It was mostly his spiteful attitude that made us decide to leave though, but not before we snuck our garbage into his trash can. I don’t know what it is about that, call it juvenile, but we’ve found it to be a very satisfying form of retribution. Take that you old buzzard.
We got back to slapdash and had to decide what to do. Our only options at this point were to either pull up anchor and backtrack, or say goodbye to the conference and just keep going. It was now 10:30 and a brisk wind had settled in and ended our deliberation. The sails went up, and wouldn’t come down until we were turning into a little harbor about 40 miles south and 6 hours later. Jaime talked to the marina over the VHF and got some directions into the harbor. She said ‘thanks’, and the voice crackled back, ‘you’re welcome skipper, welcome to Vero Beach’.
monday november 12, 2006 (vero beach, florida)
Merry Monday. This morning you might have got up, dressed, made coffee jumped in your car and headed for work. This morning I got up, dressed, poured my coffee into a travel mug and headed to work. The only real difference is that dinghies don’t have cup holders. Oh, and you probably didn’t have to scoop out the water that seeped into your car overnight with a little plastic cup that you leave in there for just that reason.
I was off to the water dock with every suitable container that we have. Periodically we have to fill up our water tanks, they each hold 30 gallons and so far we’ve been kind of lucky because we seem to run out of diesel and water at the same time. Every fuel dock we’ve stopped at so far has had good water for us which has been pretty convenient. Lately we’ve had the sails up a lot, which drastically reduces our fuel stops so today I would have to make trips back and forth in the dingy. Then I pour the water I’ve collected in these containers into the main tanks. Sure, a bit of a pain, but it was too easy to picture what our friends and former colleagues would be doing at about the same time, 8 AM on a Monday morning. So even though shuttling water back and forth in an inflatable dink may not be the first image that comes to mind when you think of heading to sea for a grand adventure, it still beats going to work.
You can’t anchor in Vero Beach. There’s not enough room, so they have tons of mooring buoys crammed in the harbor. Basically this is a semi permanent anchoring system which is attached to a float at the surface. You scoop up the line attached to the float and secure it to your boat. It enables them to use their limited space a lot more effectively. They charge you 10 bucks a night, but on the plus side, everything you need is at hand which includes water, laundry, fuel, even a free bus to town. We figured that more than made up for the minor expense, and are thinking about spending a little time here to get the boat set up for passage making. We can get shuttled around on this free bus, don’t have to worry about finding a place to tie up, and have all the showers we like. It’s also nice being able to leave your boat all day long knowing that it’s safe. The harbor is very sheltered, and with all these other boats around we have little to no concern of theft.
wednesday november 14, 2006 (vero beach, florida)
We’ve been scouting out the happy hours, the beach, found the library, the grocery stores, marine hardware and pretty much everything else we need. We’re not sure how long we are going to be here, probably until we get itchy feet and just take off. Basically one morning one of us will say to the other, ‘I’m kind of restless, you want to go?’ and then we go. It’s not very scientific or anything, but has worked for us pretty good so far.
We’ve tentatively decided to get to Cuba by way of the Bahamas. We’ve talked to some people that say this is a good route that will keep you with the prevailing winds. Nearly every single person we have met is going to the Bahamas, so it might not be a bad idea. We’ll carry on to the Florida Keys as planned, probably as far as Key Largo and then hit the north bound current of the Gulf Stream which will push us up to our first stop. Before then we’ve got some chores to do though, we need to get the stupid boat registration completed, and remember the ‘tonnage’ survey? We still have to do that too. Jaime’s Dad and girlfriend are coming to stay in a week or so, we’ll meet up with them somewhere near Miami. That should pretty much see us through to the end of November, after that we’ll be off to the Bahamas.
monday november 26, 2006 (peck lake, fl)
Free at last!
Our sentence was two weeks plus a day and we did the whole stretch. This slaplog is being written on location from Peck Lake Florida. Pecker Lake is just a tad south of Stuart, and Stuart is about 40 miles south of Vero Beach if you care about such things. The Atlantic beach is beautiful here and the crew is happy to be back on the move again.
I would like to say that we made the most of our time in Vero, so I will. Much was accomplished. I will attempt to bring you up to speed without boring you to tears.
If we had actually left on our originally planned departure date this slaplog would have been written 8 days ago. For this reason we will utilize the moniker “Velcro Beach” for the remainder of this log. There was a flea market planned for Sunday (last Sunday). We need a bunch of stuff and had a bunch of stuff we needed to sell, so decided to stay. We’re glad we did. We made some new friends in the process. One was a cool couple in a boat named Zing who, among other things, taught us how to make Bailey’s from scratch. Rum, condensed milk, vanilla, and instant coffee; the gift that keeps on giving. We first sighted Zing back in Daytona and after a passing VHF exchange, we finally caught up to them in Velcro. Zing can also claim responsibility for talking us into the Bahamas excursion and learning the slapdash crew a thing or two about topics ranging from stuffed mushroom caps to planning a safe passage across the gulf stream. Needless to say we spent some time with these guys and are looking forward to catching up to them. You will likely see their names pop up in a log or two down the road.
The anchorage started to really fill up a day or two before the American Thanksgiving (Nov 22). I went to shore in the dink one day to fill some water jugs and by the time I got back slapdash had a buddy boat. There are a set number of moorings there, and when things get busy you can expect to have a boat or two rafted up next to you. We did and it was a 34 foot Tartan sailboat. Tartan’s are a late 70’s vintage and from what little I know are a mono hull known for sailing really well and being especially seaworthy. This particular Tart had been scooped up by a family of four from Bellingham Washington. We were pretty excited to see some folks from the left coast, particularly ones with hair still on the colored side of grey. Even though our boats were joined at the hips (literally), we still seemed to play out the answer we gave to a question Jason asked of us that first day; “Do you sometimes find yourselves forgetting to live in the moment?” The answer was a resounding yes from both of us, and as if to prove it both crews seemed busy at something for days afterwards. It wasn’t until what would be out last night in Velcro that we would finally spend some quality time; if you can call a cut-throat game of Cranium quality time. Eventually we scrapped, sculpted, drew, and spelled our way to a decisive victory. In the process we made some new friends and are looking forward to a Canada vs. USA rematch to be held somewhere in the Bahamas.
Shortly before we had met the Kettlestrings there was another visitor. He knocked on the side of our hull from his dinghy one afternoon and went by the name of Jim. The special thing about this visitor is that he was led right to our mooring through the slapdash website. You see, Jim and his wife Deb had a website of their own, and a Gemini of their own. Someone who had followed his site, told him about our site, and that we were in the same anchorage. It wasn’t 3 minutes after we had met Jim before he had spotted a potentially serious problem for us. A pin which secures the drive leg (the same one last mentioned during the “stupid boot” episodes) to the boat had somehow worked its way out into a precarious position. If it had fallen out it would have only been the first event in a chain reaction of several outrageous problems soon to follow. We quickly remedied this situation with a hammer and screwdriver. Goes to show what an experienced eye can pick up on. We owe Jim for this, and wish him well in the dollar bet he’s currently engaged in; to see who can go the longest without a haircut. I’m not involved in that wager, and gave myself a fresh buzz with the 1/8th guard the next day.
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On another day in Velcro Beach we patronized the aforementioned flea market hosted by the friendly neighborhood West Marine. This early morning, preceded by an especially long night at Zing Island, we packed up our dink with a bunch of stuff we didn’t need and sputtered on over to the other side of the ICW. When we got there we commenced with a game of seek and hide which involves seeking a place to tie your dink and hiding it there so it doesn’t get towed away or stolen. We found a waterfront city park within striking distance from our destination and locked up the dink to a small and rusted over oyster encrusted ladder that reached down to the water with three rungs. From there it was only a few blocks to West Marine and the flea market being hosted in their parking lot. We arrived late but with plenty of time to set up and peddle our wares. As it turns out we set up beside this nice old guy that had probably 50 rods and reels with a pick-up load of weights, lures and other assorted fishing tackle. He set me up with everything I’ll need from the fishing department for the next four years for less than what you spent the last time you went out for dinner (before tip). I paid and looked up just in time to see Jaime grinning from ear to ear sitting on top of some rusty old beat up boat bike. You know, the kind with miniature wheels? They fold up and fit in your pocket. I knew without a doubt that we would not be leaving this place with fishing gear alone.
Hours later we headed for home. One of the guys from West Marine kindly offered to give us a lift since we had far more worldly possessions in tow than we had started out with that morning. Sure, the possessions that burdened us now had changed in description and purpose, but the fact that we had more stuff that we did 8 hours earlier was indisputable. This had more than a touch of irony since we had stayed all this time for the sole purpose of lightening our load at this sale.
Not content to only congest our boat with these “new to us” trappings, we headed for the biggest dollar store on earth, or at least the biggest one we had ever seen on earth. Our plan was to fill most of the spare cabin with stuff easily attained by us but difficult to procure for the inhabitants of the countries we will soon be visiting (one in particular famous for Mojito’s and cigars). Every single item to be found within these walls was a buck so you can imagine how much stuff we left with. More than we could carry. This time there was no nice guy from West Marine to give us a lift though, so we had to make the best with the Velcro city transit system; what a gong show we were. When we finally got home that hot and frustrating day we filled any remaining spaces on our boat with our new crap.
Not finished. Even after all this slamcrammery we decided to take it a step further. With an imminent departure from the land of box stores and boxed wine we felt the need to dip in one last time. We filled our cupboards with necessities like batteries and Pringles. Vodka, Gin and the champagne of beers are also fighting for the same space. This last foray into the world of mass consumerism took place two days ago; Saturday night. We piled this crap up into what has proven to be an apparently unsinkable dink and took a picture to prove that we had. If there were some way to illustrate to you how hard it is to get from a boat floating in a bay to a store where you can buy this much stuff, and get this much stuff back to a boat floating in a bay I would insert it here. A picture, a poem, an interpretive dance; even with the charitable ride from a stranger factored in, it’s still far beyond my abilities and would likely take every artist from Paris to Paraguay to accurately express to you the energies and emotions spent in a trip like this. I know, you feel really bad for us so on a positive note we won’t need beer or wine for a decade and will be able to supply every school from Bimini to the Balkans with pencil crayons. But we did it, and our boat is positively stuffed… or so we thought.
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The eve of our rendezvous with Ken and Pam (Jaime’s dad and girlfriend) had arrived. They called us from the Miami airport just as we had piled all of this crap into the boat. It was about 10 o’clock on Saturday night. It would take them 2 hours or more to make the drive, so we had just enough time to get the slap back into ship shape before they got to the marina. We met them at the dock at half past midnight and shuttled them back to the boat. By the way, we needed to make two trips to get all their bags to the boat. They are going on a dive trip for a week after they spend some time with us so had a couple sets of dive gear in tow. Somehow we managed to get all people and possessions onto the boat, and we said goodbye to Velcro, and our waterline.
 26-Nov-2007 15:14, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 4.5, 31.0mm, 0.017 sec, ISO 400 |
26-Nov-2007 15:21, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 5.6, 25.0mm, 0.017 sec, ISO 400 |
26-Nov-2007 15:16, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 5.6, 18.0mm, 0.033 sec, ISO 125 |
tuesday november 27, 2006 (lantana, florida)
With a crew of four we made about 30 miles past the mansions of Palm Beach and under a record breaking 12 bridges. That’s only counting the ones that have to open for us. It would be more if we included the fixed bridges, but those don’t cause any delays. Today’s record won’t stand for long though; tomorrow we’ll need to pass under 15 bridges in the 30 miles that separate us from Fort Lauderdale.
The weather has been great for Ken and Pam’s visit with the exception of an uncooperative wind. We’ve had a strong southerly for the past couple of days. The compass has been within a few degrees of 180 (due south) since we left Velcro so that puts wind and wave right in our teeth. There’s no room to tack in the waterway so it’s been all diesel. Our sails aren’t getting any love.
We have booked an appointment with the Canadian government approved tonnage experts tomorrow afternoon. This will be another expensive step towards having our boat properly registered, something that we would really like to have behind us. Fort Lauderdale will also be one of our last places to get any last minute supplies before we leave the US. We have only a couple items left on our laundry list though, so it should be relatively painless. A backup handheld GPS and some anchor chain should pretty much do it. Ken and Pam leave on Saturday, so we’ll probably hang out there for a day or two and see what kind of trouble we can get into. There’s rumors circulating the boat about some kind of Pirate festival in Key West this week. We can’t miss that of course so may have to trade up for some speedier land based vehicles. Of course they will have to be Pirate approved… Harley’s anyone?
wednesday november 28, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
The section we passed through on our route from Pecker Lake to Fort Lauderdale is known as the “Canyon”. It’s heavily developed and has concrete embankments on both sides. Good for preventing erosion and provides solid footing for all of the multi million dollar mansions that line both sides, not so good for absorbing boat wake. Because it’s a relatively narrow waterway any waves created by passing boats are sent ricocheting and reverberating off the sides. They slosh around like water in an enormous bathtub, so instead of just hitting you once they catch you at least a half dozen times and from every conceivable angle. The water will go from being incredibly smooth to monstrously uncomfortable with just one good sized cabin cruiser passing by. And because this is southern Florida you can expect to see a lot more than one. For the most part the traffic we did encounter did their best to keep wakes low so things went pretty smoothly. We heard some stories about people who have made the same passage during a long weekend or after a boat show and it sounds like things can get a whole lot worse than what we saw. I guess our timing was good; we passed mid week and early in the day so traffic was pretty light.
All the hotel sized homes pretty much monopolized the view the whole way. Allegedly Tiger and Celine have shacks on one of the islands we passed. I’m not surprised; none of us had ever seen so much money in one place. Surely this area must have one of the highest concentrations of bazillionairres in the US. I bet the trick or treaters take in a pretty good haul.
As we approached Ft. Lauderdale it became pretty clear that they had earned the title of yachting capital of the world. We would hear that term again and again over the next few days. There are boats of every imaginable size, shape, proportion, purpose, color, all right here. Cruise ships, container ships, tankers, cigarette boats, fishing, cruising, sailing, homeland security, jet skis, pretty much everything you have ever seen on the water is here somewhere. They stack them 5 stories high, literally. There are subdivisions and neighborhoods with canals carved throughout. West Marine takes up two blocks. Boating is to Ft. Lauderdale what gambling is to Las Vegas, what oil is to Saudi Arabia. We spent the first couple of weeks of this trip without sharing an anchorage with another boat, now we would be lucky to find a patch of water not already occupied. Our first couple attempts were unsuccessful. There wasn’t room to anchor the dink, never mind the slapdash. But as the saying goes, third time’s the charm. We found a fantastic anchorage a few hundred yards off the waterway. It’s a small patch of water rather optimistically charted as a “lake”. It was crowded but offered good protection and strong holding. We elbowed our way into a spot and tucked in for the night.
thursday november 29, 2007 (ft lauderdale, fl)
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Ken turned 57 today and to commemorate the occasion we headed over to the neighborhood bike shop. We picked the Dyna Wide and a Soft Tail and set about making our way in style to the southernmost point in the continental US; Key Largo.
29-Nov-2007 15:14, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 13.0, 18.0mm, 0.003 sec, ISO 400 |
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30-Nov-2007 08:42, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 11.0, 18.0mm, 0.001 sec, ISO 400 |
It was about a couple hundred miles each way so it would be an overnight trip. With all of the appropriate insurance coverage declined we pulled away just after lunch time. The sun set shortly after we had crossed the 7 mile bridge after Marathon. This was the scene of the “not for sale” boat from back in September so we gave our most ferocious sneer as we thundered past.
With our sunglasses providing the only windscreen, riding in the dark wasn’t much fun. By the time we pulled into Key Largo after the 4 hour ride everyone was pretty happy to get off the bikes. We dropped our bags and gear at some crappy hotel and after we had rendered the towels and wash cloths pretty much unusable from cleaning off the road grime that had accumulated on our faces, hands, arms and legs, we left to find some trouble on Duval St.
29-Nov-2007 18:50, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 4.0, 21.0mm, 0.017 sec, ISO 400 |
friday november 30, 2007 (ft lauderdale, florida)
The bikes had to be back by 1PM so we had an early start. We were up at 7, out of the crappy hotel, and on our bikes before 8. After the requisite pictures in front of the mile zero monument we hit the road and retraced our steps from the day before.
For a while it looked like we were going to get a brutal storm, but the clouds parted and other than sitting out a little spattering of rain at a roadside diner we had perfect weather for the ride home.
By the time we got back to Miami everyone looked like raccoons from the road grime and had taken a few hits from kamikaze insects of various descriptions but we all had big toothy grins. Great day, great bikes, great ride. At one point we were ready to sell the boat and buy Harley’s, so needless to say would recommend this trip to anyone. Go rent the biggest Harley you can find and ride the highway that connects the Keys one gorgeous sunny day. You won’t regret it.
30-Nov-2007 05:48, Canon Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XTi, 11.0, 42.0mm, 0.004 sec, ISO 400 |
We had booked the tonnage guy for the same day. The plan went off without a hitch and after we dropped the bikes off we were back at the dock just in time to meet up with him. Since all of us wouldn’t fit in the dink, Ken and Pam had to wait it out on the patio with a couple of beers while Jaime, the tonnage guy and I hopped in the dink and made our way back to the boat. He was there for about an hour and turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He was a delivery captain before he took up the dark art of tonnage surveying and spent some time commercial fishing in Alaska before that. These are the things we chatted about as we sat and watched him run around the boat with a tape measure. He took a few measurements, wrote down a few serial numbers and was through in about an hour. He took three pictures and that was it; done. We could hardly believe that this would be the anti climactic conclusion to the great slapdash tonnage fiasco. But it was as finished as the one beer that I had time to drink while he satisfied the requirements of Transport Canada right before our very eyes. We took a picture of him in action to honor the occasion.
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Seriously though, this whole process was a complete joke and is an ongoing joke to these guys down here. They’re happy for the business but say that the red tape and paperwork required by TC is unrivaled by even the Banana Republics. It must be a conspiracy. Some high ranking Canadian government official probably owns these surveyor companies or something. Okay maybe not, but I am sure of one thing; that was without a doubt the most unsatisfying $700 we have ever spent. The good news is that we are probably only 10 days away from finally having the boat registered properly. That means we can complete the name change, and most importantly, leave the country!
October 2007 South Carolina to Georgia to Florida
monday october 8,2007 (myrtle beach)
Calm and relaxed after a glass of wine, Jaime and I watched a spectacular sunset from the bridge deck. Slapdash is tugging gently at her anchor and the only sound here is an occasional gurgle or splash of water against her hulls. This ideal anchorage is just 30 miles south from the Grand Dunes marina we left this morning; just a few miles next to my wildest dreams. If you hit the furthest reaches of my imagination then you have gone too far… that is to say; yes, we are still here in the Grand Dunes Marina. That little image is exactly how we had planned to spend the evening of October 8th, but it will have to wait. Let me explain…
We left you shortly before what was to be our maiden voyage. We were going to return slapdash to our slip at the Grand Dunes from the boatyard once the repairs from last weeks exciting events were completed. The fiberglass guy worked his magic and as promised had the port hull looking better (and stronger) than new. We couldn’t have been more impressed with his work. With that little bit of boat rhinoplasty completed, it was just the stanchions we were waiting on. The guys showed up and removed the good stanchions from the starboard side to use as templates for the ones that were destroyed. They took them away for fabrication and would return to install all of them once we had the boat safely back “home”. So we began plans for a Monday departure. Grand Dunes was 10 miles away, and this would have to serve as our official maiden voyage.
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There were more than a few nerves strained at the thought of it. Our first excursion, although not under our command, encountered a few “bumps in the road” and the memory was still fresh. Nevertheless the scheduled time drew near. We had rallied our crew (Dan and Ryleigh) and before there was too much time to spend thinking the worst, the huge 4 wheeled boat lifter contraption (previously pictured) wheeled around the corner. This was surely to the dismay of the long line of sugar ants which had been steadily marching aboard uninvited to plunder and pillage within minutes of our arrival. They watched helplessly (as did we) as the slapdash was plucked from the ground and soon out of their reach. Now that she was hanging 4 precarious feet from the ground by this contraption, I admit to a sick feeling of dread. It was likely the perspective gained through my service as first hand witness 3 days prior, to the relative fragility of fiberglass. That may have contributed to this pessimistic outlook. Regardless, it was wasted emotion because the process was flawless. Four experienced marina personnel including the Maintenance and Site Managers watched over the event. Once the hulls were safely in the water and the crew was invited aboard, the vessel was now under our command… gulp!
Jaime was stationed on the forward deck port side. Dan was forward too, on the starboard side. Both were ready to fend with their lives, Dan with a boathook and Jaime with a long handled scrub brush (we couldn’t find the second boat hook). Ryleigh was in the cockpit documenting the proceedings with unbridled vigilance (as we would learn later when downloading her 172 pictures from our camera), and I was at the helm gritting my teeth. Rudders and drive leg were lowered. Dagger boards were raised and locked into place. The instruments were lighted, the key was turned and all systems were go. The engine was thrown into reverse, the wheel turned hard to port and the stern swung around the same. We slowly backed out of the cradle and into the narrow marina. Then it was forward with a hard starboard turn of the wheel and we were pointed in the right direction. So far so good. Everyone in the area by this time knew our story and looked on with anticipation. They were wasting their time though; we were ready for anything and as professional a crew that this place would ever see. Okay, maybe not but Jaime and Dan were a formidable team. They looked as though if called upon, they could have saved the Titanic from the iceberg; Dan with his fearless boat hook and Jaime running around with her brush. We wouldn’t have the opportunity to test them though. Before we knew it, and without any fending, we had negotiated two more turns and found ourselves safely in the middle of the intra coastal waterway.
It was smooth sailing from then on. We spent the next two hours taking turns at the helm, messing up VHF protocol with the draw bridges, and hamming it up for the paparazzi. I mean Ryleigh. Our return to B2 (our dock and slip) was much the same as our departure a couple hours prior; we were ready for anything and rewarded with no drama. Safe and sound. If there ever was an opposite of the few days prior when leaving this place under tow, this was it.
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With our boat where it should be and the few displaced sugar ants being annihilated by the dozen, all we could do now was wait for our new stanchions.
While we were waiting we decided it was a perfect time to take in all the sights and sounds that Myrtle Beach had to offer with our guests and crew. Dan and I set out to relieve this place of its cheap beer. It can be had for as little as 12 dollars per flat (24) here so our work was cut out for us. We fought bravely. In the end, cheap beer won; it always does.
If you ever find yourself in Myrtle Beach, I hope you enjoy one of the following:
- Mini Golf
- Pancakes
- Strippers
- Discount beach stores
Those are really the four pillars of this place. Everything else is a multiple thereof. If you are American imagine Las Vegas with less casinos and a big beach. If you are Canadian imagine Niagara Falls with less Canadians and a big beach. The place is tacky. Like an amusement park exploded all over the place. But hey, when in Rome right?
We did it all. The highlight that we all agree upon was found at a giant strip-mall-meets-Disneyland type place called “Broadway on the Beach”. The name itself is odd because we didn’t see any Broadway musicals offered, nor was there a beach to be found. What we did see we all agreed was the best night out of the week; the dueling pianists of Crocodile Rock. Two pianos facing each other, each manned by a penis (that’s singular for pianists right?). They managed to play every request written on a bill. A twenty guaranteed that your song would be played next. We were only in the place as long as it took to get a round of drinks ordered before they had Ryleigh and Jaime on stage! They were gifted in the form of a jello shooter each (served from a giant syringe) for being good sports. I cannot elaborate further on this portion of the evening, and only mention it to let you know that pianists can be a lot of fun when they duel.
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We returned one morning to find that all the work had been completed on our boat. The stanchions were up and the mechanic we had hired to do the 500 hour engine service was just finishing up. This was a huge lift. We even joked about it on the way there saying “wouldn’t it be cool if we showed up and everything was already finished?” And so it had appeared.
We looked over the boat and everything seemed in place, it looked like the departure planned for the 8th was not only possible but could now be done at our whim. We spent the next day cleaning from stem to stern, inside and out.
Between the repairs, the haul out, time spent on the hard, and our couple days of fun and games, she had really started to look rough. It’s astonishing how hard you have to work to keep a boat looking crisp. Really. I could write a whole post on it but already have one on the go here and need to move it along… By nightfall she looked brilliant again; as good as the day we first saw her and we couldn’t have been happier. Except for the fact that it was Friday night and Dan & Ryleigh were scheduled to catch a 7AM flight the next morning. This was an early night. They gave us a lift to do some shopping, and we snuck in a quick round of mini-golf (over rated) and that was nearly it. There is more of course to this past week. To protect the innocent and the length of this post I won’t go into any more detail though. We said our goodbye’s to Dan and Ryleigh that night as it started to rain. We made a quick retreat back to the boat after they left because the rain was really picking up. By the time we were trying to get to sleep, it was coming down in buckets, in sheets, driving down like you couldn’t imagine. This was no cloudburst either; it carried on for half the night.
Morning came with a new hope. We were on our own again, but the sun was out and our boat was finally clean and in working order. I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but even that stupid loser of a boot that started this whole thing had been successfully replaced. It is now officially my least favorite part on this boat. When we finish with this trip I shall have it melted down and turned into a toilet plunger so it can spend the rest of it’s days sucking shi… well, you get the point. However hard that boot tried, things at this point were actually looking up. And from now on every time things are looking up we will check for falling pianos. We will put our ear to the ground and listen for oncoming trains. Or if we are still on a boat (however unlikely it is that we should find things looking up while living on one) we will do as we did this particular morning, and check the hulls for water.
The port bilge was full. Stupid port bilge. It wasn’t its fault of course, but it was the first thing we had to deal with. Pumping water, soaking it up with a sponge, every manner of excavation employed. This was the first time we were faced with such an assignment, and our inexperience showed. Eventually it was dried and once we had determined that no new water would be joining us for the time being (crisis averted) we put ourselves to the task of finding out how this unwelcome water gained entrance to our vessel. We could have asked the ants if only we hadn’t already decimated them. Until now they have been the only successful home invader and would have likely been able to offer up some clues. But even without their help, the search led us to… dun dun dun, the stanchions!
Oh boy. Let me remind you that all but one of the port stanchions had been removed through force and without consent. Doing their best to remain rooted to the deck of the boat, these noble stanchions had to be torn asunder before they would leave their post. Because of this, many of the starboard stanchions were later removed to serve as templates for the construction of the replacements. In all, 11 of 17 stanchions had been removed either by force or consent. 64.7% as a matter of fact. And out of the 64.7% of the stanchions that were removed either through force or consent, 100% leaked. Profusely.
In truth hulls are designed to collect any water that gets into a boat, making the disposal of it easy. As dramatic as that part of the story may have sounded it really wasn’t too big of a big deal. But here’s something that is. Stanchions are mounted to the deck. If you live in a house, the equivalent to our deck would be your roof. To go one step further, our bilge would be your cellar. Now, most of you have a lot of things between your roof and your cellar just as we have a lot of things in the space between our deck and our bilge. I wish I could say that each of the 11 paths that the deluge of water followed from deck to bilge were unencumbered by personal belongings and equipment, but alas that would have to indicate that things were…looking up. And at this point they certainly were not.
Today (Monday) was hot. Really hot. We celebrated this by spreading out our personal belongings all over the dock to dry. We opened every hatch on the boat, and turned on every fan. It looked like one monster yard sale, but by the time we were feasting (it’s Thanksgiving in Canada today) upon canned chicken with sides of canned everything else, things had returned to “normal”.
Turns out that some of the stanchions were not backed by anything at all. No, really! The good people who installed them decided that it would be too much trouble to take down the headliner in the cabin in order to get at the underside of the deck, which they would need to do if they ever intended to fasten a nut to the other side of the bolts which they had inserted from the topside! So instead they just used an anchor, sort of the same type of thing you might use to fasten something to drywall when you can’t get access to use a nut to secure the backside. In the really tricky parts there was nothing at all. Then a few globs of silicone and they were home in time for lunch. WTF! If it wasn’t for the rain they may have actually succeeded in this little caper. By all appearances everything looked right. The problem is that the finished product not only leaked like a sieve, but had the structural integrity of the average bathroom towel rod. The fact that these guys were prepared to send us off in this condition is near criminal. We have been incredibly patient and understanding to this point. Up until now most of these things were the result of an unfortunate accident. Accidents happen. This work was not an accident though. Unfortunately it appears to have been the opposite, a deliberate attempt to deceive us.
Tomorrow morning we get to meet with the fine fellows who did the work, and we shall uncover another chapter to this story soon enough.
friday october 12,2007 (myrtle beach)
The day started early with a rather animated phone call. I was attempting to get across to the person who was responsible for the vandalism (aka, repairs) to our boat that everything that had been done needed to be redone. Every stanchion replaced leaked and the boat was probably worse off now than it was before he started. This is no easy task when you have 21 days of boat owning experience and are talking to a self proclaimed “expert” who keeps reminding you that he has 21 years experience.
It wasn’t going anywhere until the idea was proposed that an intermediary would investigate my claims and either confirm or contradict them. We would both accept his conclusions. He could then deal with a professional (not some overly emotive and inexperienced owners that were clearly just overreacting), and we would be able to deal with someone who wasn’t being defensive about getting caught in some shady business. For some reason we weren’t very excited about the prospect of having the same guy who did the work in the first place on our boat again so he also agreed that the intermediary could do any of the repairs that he deemed necessary.
Surprisingly there was someone here that we both knew and agreed could fairly arbitrate the issue. A professional captain who owned a local yacht maintenance company was here doing some repairs on another boat at the marina. Jaime and I had met him a day earlier, this would be the guy. So with the terms and conditions in place and having settled on this captain to middle man the situation we hung up. Both relived not to be dealing with the other anymore.
Once the captain arrived it took about 5 minutes for him to see that we indeed had cause for serious concern. He even pointed out some things we hadn’t noticed and had everything he needed to get started right away.
Before he arrived we had contacted the factory where our boat was made and learned all about the proper installation, materials and sealant that should be used. We were relieved when this guy proposed exactly the same methods, and even used hardware that exceeded their recommendations. I worked with him through the day, and six hours later we had removed every piece, replaced and sealed it properly. This upside is that this was a good learning experience. You could swing off the stanchions now, and I know a lot more about the boat than before this whole escapade.
With that bit of unpleasantness behind us we were able to start focusing on our departure plans. Nothing huge just a bunch tasks that were of the annoying variety. This is a copy of our list:
- Finish gel coat repairs
- Grease outleg
- Apply a protect to the “stupid boot”
- Figure out how to secure dingy to keep it from swinging
- Get holding tank pumped out
- Pay marina for slip
- Clean out the dockside bin and stow everything away
- Update website
- Complete and submit stupid tonnage application
- Have registration papers notarized… again
- Courier documents to our agent
- Update maintenance log and ships log
- Fill water tanks
- Fill propane tanks
- Fill diesel tanks
- Empty garbage
- Do laundry
- Get groceries
Goes to show that you can’t escape the mundane chores of life no matter what you do. We got through most of it though, and afterward I decided to reward myself with a beer. While at the little dockside bar I met up with an interesting character named John. He’s from New York and is here doing some work on his boat. Turns out that he’s one of the very few sailors here (there’s only 3 or 4 besides ours, the rest are all power boats) and is only 1 boat away from us. He got really excited about our trip and bought a round of drinks, which led to shots, which led to champagne, which led to dinner. His girlfriend and her friend came by as well and we ate and drank until the wee hours. It was just what we needed. He had a lot of great advice and we had a blast. If everyone we meet is as out of the ordinary as this guy was we are going to have a seriously interesting trip.
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With the chores finished up we are on our way over to the only other catamaran in the marina. There’s a few neighbors getting together there to discuss departure plans and we were happy to get an invite. These folks have made the run to Florida several times so they will have good advice about anchorages, marina’s, and other local knowledge. We’ll soak up as much as we can because first thing tomorrow morning we are outta here.
It’s been an eventful stay. We’ve met a lot of great people here and have been treated really well. If you ever find yourself on the ICW and in need of a marina, look for mile marker 357 and pull into Grande Dunes, you won’t regret it.
saturday october 20, 2007 (beaufort, south carolina)
The following is an attempt to sum up the last 7 days or so. My memory (shaky at the best of times) will need to suffice since the disc which held the logs I had been keeping about our maiden voyage is likely inside the belly of a fish.
Fueled and watered, we set off as planned Saturday morning (Oct 13th). Our destination that day would be an anchorage recommended to us the night before during the session held on a neighboring boat ,“Xanadu”. It’s name was Bull Creek. I’m not sure about the origin of this name, but it’s not suited. This place should be called the Little Amazon or something like that. It was a page stolen from the Jungle book. We made it there without incident and even managed to drop, set, and secure our anchor without harming life, limb, or boat. The weather could not have been more perfect for this trip. Hot and sunny. If we were somewhere other than a ditch in a boat equipped for serious sailing we would have complained for the lack of wind, but for today’s purposes we could not have hoped for better.
In the morning we woke up just before sunrise and found otherworldly competing with serenity right outside our boat. The water was so perfectly still that you felt like you should hold your breath for fear of sending a ripple across it. If that were the only trait the water had that morning then serenity would have been the right word. As it was there were thick billows of mist or steam rising up all around us at the same time. If there was a swamp on Mars I’m sure it would look a lot like our view that morning. The pictures wouldn’t do it justice but instead of trying to drag Jaime from the cabin to see, I decided to just pull back the sun shade off the window so she could see it from the bed. I did that and expected to see the same look of awe on her face as mine when she took in the ghostly view. Instead she burst out laughing. Not exactly the effect I was looking for. It turns out that the scene of a gangly big white guy in his underwear pulling the curtains back from the deck of your boat at 7AM is a funny one.
We broke camp, pulled up anchor, and made for Five Fathom Creek just outside McLellanville. It was another fine day and we were hoping to add some substance to our wildlife list. The ditch didn’t let us down. Jaime spotted a big alligator which dampened any enthusiasm we may have had for a swim that afternoon. Then we were both shocked to see dolphins swimming all around us. The locals would roll their eyes but it’s easy to forget that you are right beside the Atlantic Ocean along this stretch. We had about the same expectation of seeing a dolphin that day as we would if we were floating down the Bow River in Calgary. It didn’t take long to lose count of all the dolphins but every sighting still brings us both to the cockpit to catch a look. It probably won’t get old anytime soon.
On Monday night we anchored at another spot recommended by locals. We found Steamboat Creek without drama and liked it right away. The weather hadn’t changed so we both took a dip to cool off. This anchorage bared no resemblance to what we imagined alligator territory to look like. This place was more like a nice bay and was more ocean than river. After a fresh water rinse from our deck shower we took the dingy to a little boat launch nearby. We had been on the boat for 3 days straight and needed to stretch our legs. There were 5 or 6 locals fishing and crabbing when we arrived. One old guy was talking to us before we could get the dingy tied up. He was asking if we knew anything about this place. We admitted that we did not. He asked if we had been swimming. We admitted that we had. Then he informed us of the Mako shark population. Apparently they were in this bay and as thick as the no-see-ums that were buzzing all around us. We weren’t sure if we should believe him or if he was just some crazy old man having fun with the Canadian tourists. Turns out that he was a crazy old man but he wasn’t lying about the sharks. He walked us over to his truck and showed us the Hammer Head shark we had caught while we were taking our swim. Hammer Head shark? What is it with this place? Death defying acts like swimming with sharks are always so much easier when you are totally clueless.
We took our walk but got this really creepy feeling. We were in the middle of nowhere, the people at the dock were less than ordinary, and we were on this narrow dirt road which led us past big old wooden houses and abandoned trailers. Our conversation centered around the reasons why we would have chosen to leave our key in the ignition of our boat. To add a little to the creepy ambiance, all the trees had this shaggy haunted looking moss hanging from the branches and the no-see-ums were feasting on us. We made haste back to the slapdash and took dinner safe from the flies, mossy trees and crazy shark catching locals.
The next morning we were excited to get going. Our luck was good and we wanted to milk it for all the mileage it was good for. Our next stop was Charleston and we were both looking forward to shore leave. It would be a chance to replenish our supplies, take long showers and update the slaplogs and emails. With a quick stop along the way for fuel and water we were ready to drop anchor by 3PM. This has been a part of our strategy. Being new at this game we like to get in early ahead of any other boats so we can take our time and pick the best spot without any pressure or peanut galleries. It also gives us plenty of daylight to deal with anything that might go wrong. Like it did today.
We decided to go past the big anchorage right in front of the city. It was packed and we thought we would be better off a little further up in a small anchorage. We would have to wait for the bridge to open for us but that was no big deal because there was plenty of daylight. We reasoned that the longer dingy ride to shore would be a small price for not having to worry about picking a passage between a bunch of other boats and dropping the hook in tight quarters. Turns out that there was nothing wrong with our logic; we just picked the wrong spot. Our anchor was down and set as easily as it had been the 3 nights prior and initially things were looking very good. We had one neighbor in this spot, which was in a narrow channel formed by a small island. Any shaky nerves we had about the clearance between us and the other boat were soon put to rest when we saw that there was plenty of room for tide, wind and current to swing us around. He would be fine but the little island would not be so lucky. There was an offshore wind blowing 10-12 knots. When we first arrived the current was strong enough to keep us tight against the anchor line, but now the wind was winning out. A catamaran has a lot of surface area for wind to push against, and unlike a monohull doesn’t have a bunch of size or weight below the surface to dampen the effect. In other words; its easy for the wind to bully us around when at anchor. It wasn’t long before we were pushed up onto this little island.
Luckily it was all mud no rocks. Our situation was unpleasant but not dangerous. Our neighbor came over in his dingy and helped to swing our stern out into deeper water where I could start the engine without fear of damaging prop or drive leg. I backed us away from our unexpected landfall and Jaime pulled up the anchor.
We tried again, this time a little further out. This was desirable because it was further away from the little island, but the deeper water there required us to let out more anchor line which sort of defeated the purpose of being there in the first place. We were still swinging dangerously close to shore. There was no choice but to pull anchor again and admit defeat. We had exactly one hour before sunset and 1 mile separating us from the next anchorage. Being caught in the dark in a narrow waterway completely unknown to you is no small thing, so it was little wonder that patience and crew moral was tested aka we were fighting. We would have to pass through a small passage called Elliots Cut which forced the weight of flood and ebb tides through a funnel. At it’s peak we would have been unable to push the boat against the current created even at full throttle. It wasn’t quite slack tide but it would be close enough. At 3000 RPM we only made 2 or 3 MPH. It would be just enough to beat the current but we were now in a race with the sun.
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We didn’t expect to be activating a plan C so had not studied the charts for Stono River. When we did it was quick glances in between managing the boat into a strong current and watching for any markers, buoys or crab traps (which seem to be everywhere). When we were faced with a green (port side) aid to navigation we had to make a quick decision. Do we pass to starboard or to port? There were no sure signs. It wasn’t obvious and we needed to make a call. We left it to port and counted on the Gemini’s shallow draft to buy us some time. It did, just enough. By the time we looked up from the chart knowing that the aid to navigation should have passed to starboard in this case, we were in 7 feet of water. We adjusted and began making our way back to the charted route. We were throttled down to idle and watching the depth meter, 6.5… 6.2… 5.9… 5.3…. You have got to be kidding me, twice in one day? We hit 4.9 before it started counting back up again. If I had jumped out of the boat I would have been in water up to my chest (and then probably eaten my a Mako). We made it back to “deep” water (10 feet) without making two unplanned landfalls in one day.
We were dropping the hook for the fourth time that day just as the sun was slipping past the horizon. We weren’t speaking to each other by this point. So I took the cue and poured a couple of drinks. This time it was whiskey. One sour and one on the rocks. As we were sipping our drinks contemplating the narrowly averted disasters of the day, we glanced over beside us and both started to laugh. This was truly hilarious. There, not 100 feet from us, was the top 20 feet of a mast sticking up out of the water. It was the only part of some unfortunate sailboat still visible. The halyards were still attached and were clanging away against the mast in the wind as if to remind us that it could always be worse. The reason this struck us as funny is because immediately after the Three Brians incident, we were crossing the road and saw this poor little varmint that had been squashed into an almost cartoon manner. Literally as flat as a pancake. Just like Wile E. Coyote always looked right before he used a spatula to scrape himself up off the ground. Yes, it can always be worse.
The next day full of optimism and excitement we made our way to the marina recommended in our guidebook. We had already slept in and had a big breakfast. We loitered around the boat and generally lavished in a day off. All that was left to do was go and play tourist in a town full of history and great restaurants; Charleston. Not so. The marina wouldn’t even let us tie up to their dock. It would seem that in the 2 years since our guide book had been published, the marina had been bought out and closed to the public. I couldn’t accept that we couldn’t even tie up a little dingy for a few hours, who would care? We tried everything though and to no avail. We had to turn around and head back to the boat. The really crappy part was that the only other place to land a boat (dingy or otherwise) was on the other side of Elloits Cut. Our dingy would never make it through that current. That would mean waiting for the right tide, prepping the boat for departure, pulling anchor again, and backtracking to one of those anchorages that had given us all the trouble the day prior. None of those things really held any allure so we threw in the towel. We resigned ourselves to a day off on the boat reading and generally just laying around. We would leave tomorrow, listen to fate and turn our backs to Charleston. Besides, we would be in Beaufort in a couple of days and that’s supposed to be a smaller version of Charleston. Before we could leave there was one last thing. A clandestine mission in a war nobody cared about but me. We wanted a pound of flesh from the stupid marina that wouldn’t let us tie up our poor little dingy. The symbolic act of throwing out our trash in their garbage can would have to do. Mission accomplished. And I’m happy to report that while sneaking our garbage bag past the marina office, that our dingy was in fact tied up to their dock the whole time.
We altered our course and went a little out of our way to follow up on a lead. You know how every good conspiracy movie seems to have a scene with a lab full of monkeys which play a central role in some top secret government sponsored project? Have you ever wondered where those shadowy government agencies get their monkeys from? Neither did we until we heard that there was actually such a place. We arrived at Morgan (aka: Monkey) Island with low expectations on Thursday afternoon. Still, we arrived at the prescribed time, about 2 hours before sunset. Then we anchored slapdash as far up the small stream towards the center of the island that water depth would allow. From there we took to the dink (our dingy). It was an expedition to the center of this strange island just a couple miles off of the main waterway. Once we had passed through the marsh lands we approached some very monkey looking habitat. We know about as much about monkeys as we do sailing around the world, but we had decided that if we were monkeys we would probably live here. Especially if we were shadowy government agent monkeys. Anyway, that’s all we had to go on until we saw the signs. They said something about a federally sponsored project, absolutely no trespassing blah blah blah. They were big signs with bold red and black lettering. This had to be the place but still, no monkeys. We went as far as we could in the dink and had to turn around. We made our way back to the most promising looking monkey habitat and shut off the engine. We took to the oars so that we wouldn’t startle our prey. Then we saw him. He saw us. It was a monkey to be sure. He squawked and shook the branch he was standing on. I’m not sure if it was meant to intimidate us or to warn his monkey kin but he kept doing it. He looked like he could be of the poo flinging variety of monkey so taking no chances, I took us out of what I thought could be poo flinging range. Turns out he was just calling all the inhabitants of monkey island to come and look at the tourists in the tiny inflatable boat because soon there were dozens of them. It was quite a site, right there in the middle of South Carolina was this island absolutely infested with monkeys. And there we were drifting slowly past in a little dingy just out of poo flinging range, and them lined up along the bank screaming, bouncing, jumping, climbing and performing all kinds of monkey aerobatics for us. What is it with this place?
On Friday we left Monkey Island. It was a pretty typical day until we spotted another catamaran of the same make and model as ours. We hailed them and started chatting on another channel. The conversation turned to weather when they said that they had made better progress than expected and should be fine unless the storm comes early. Storm? Apparently there were 50 knot winds forecast today. We had no idea. I’m not sure it would have made any difference if we had known. We probably would have done all the same things and just been worried for nothing. The winds didn’t come. It was a blustery day all right but no 50 knot winds. Everyone kept talking about the storm that never came. Then we woke up every few hours last night to make sure we weren’t dragging our anchor or anything. I think I liked it better when we didn’t know anything about the forecast. Not sure if that’s the best approach to take, but I know there’s a lesson in there somewhere.
Right now we are in the public library of Beaufort SC. Why not at an outdoor cafe sipping a latte while using our wireless enabled laptop you ask? Because its the latest casualty on our journey. It gave up the ghost a couple of days ago. It just keeps flashing this annoying orange light at me, mocking me. It won’t do anything but flash the stupid light. Not to worry, we had heard about this library not far from the dock, and since I had cleverly saved all the slaplogs from the past week onto my little travel drive we would simply log in and transfer them over to the website leaving the laptop for another days’ concern.
“Plop”. That’s precisely the sound that a travel drive makes when it falls from your shirt pocket to the water beneath the dock you are tying your dingy to. Now we use a zip lock bag to carry our things to and from shore.
So our stop off at the Beaufort public library was a little longer than expected. We leave tomorrow so are going to go and enjoy everything this little place has to offer. Did you know that Forrest Gump was filmed here? Its true. We’ll tell you all about it sometime.
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saturday october 20, 2007 (beaufort, sc)take II
First of all, it’s pronounced Byew-fert. Second, Forrest Gump was actually filmed in Savannah Georgia and not here in Byew-fert. Thanks for all the emails on that one, didn’t know there were so many Gump fans out there. Even with this terrible news we decided to tour the city anyway. Turns out that Prince of Tides and The Big Chill were filmed here. I’ve never seen either of those films and really want to bury this whole topic anyway. Please don’t send us any more emails filled with random movies filmed in random small towns. Appreciate it and all, but I’m sure there’s a website out there that belongs to some people that are taking a movie tour of the world that would be really choked.
So, it is a story book looking place. Lots of art galleries and antique stores. We walked around and looked at all kinds of old buildings including a church that dates back to the 1700′s. There’s these big long tombs there that actually served as operating tables for wounded Union soldiers during the American civil war. Kind of a bad day if you were wounded in battle and then wake up to find yourself being operated on in a cemetery. The whole civil war history plays a big part in the towns we’ve been visiting. The first shots of that war were fired not far from here so it’s no wonder. Kind of interesting since we didn’t learn all that much about it growing up in Canada.
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Our dink was tied up to the city dock which is attached to the city park. The park is used for all kinds of events and today it was set up for this huge outdoor concert. There were two stages, security everywhere and gates being set up all around. A handful of those massive tour buses were back stage along with a half dozen trailers and trucks for all the instruments and stage gear, so it appeared that there would be multiple bands. All this commotion had us excited to find out who was playing. Turns out that it was some kind of Christian rock concert. Hurray. No offense to all the Christian rockers out there, but it’s just not our kind of thing. Seems a lot like non-alcoholic beer or something. It was clearly a huge deal in Byew-fert though and it drew a crowd proportionate to the elaborate stage and set-up.
Funny thing about these guys is that they looked every bit the part. If you didn’t know any better it could have passed for any outdoor rock or punk show. Tattoos, leather pants, spiked multi colored day-glo hair. Even some of the the band names were spin offs, like “The Not Damned”. Weird. The point of all this is not to piss off a bunch of people who dig Cristian rock, but to tell you about our back stage passes. Yep, we roll like that.
The front of the stages were penned in by those tall green fences you see at any ticketed outdoor event (at this one they prevented anyone who hasn’t paid 20 bucks from finding Jesus). Backstage was where all the buses were parked and the musicians hung out. They had a bunch of their own security guards and even the local police watching the entrance. It was locked down as tightly as any backstage area should be with one small exception. The secure area enclosed our dinghy dock. When we returned to find this whole area on lock down we were wondering how we would ever get back to our boat. At the moment some guy was on stage wailing about how he found Jesus after three felony counts and attempting a drug induced suicide (great role model) so hanging out and waiting for the concert to end was clearly not an option. We decided to just blow past the guards like we owned the place and see what would happen. We were intercepted immediately and questioned. We told him that our dinghy was tied up here and that their gates blocked our only access. He apologized, stepped out of the way and just like that we were backstage at the biggest ticket in Byew-fert. It was classic, every time we would come or go to the dink we would just give a nod and they would let us right through. That dink opens a lot of doors.
After all the bible thumping beats we really needed a drink so headed for this cool little bar we found called Hemingway. Later that night back on the slapdash we could hear the concert blaring away until the wee hours of the morning.
sunday october 21, 2007 (savannah, georgia)
At about 2PM this afternoon we crossed the state line. Small thing, but it felt like we had accomplished something. Here’s what the chart book had to say about this stretch:
“The next 140 miles down the ICW are visually interesting and physically demanding. You will use your GPS, compass, depth sounder and binoculars as you wind your way along the serpentine rivers and cross open sounds that can be choppy when the wind kicks up.”
With that in mind we set of for Savannah Georgia. At the prescribed place we turned away from the ICW and motored up the Savannah River. Something didn’t look right, but we checked the charts a couple times and we were definitely on the right course. Things were looking very big. Maybe it was just the effect of leaving the narrow, sometimes claustrophobic feel of the ICW and emerging into this great wide waterway. Then the VHF crackled to life and we heard somebody hailing the southbound catamaran. This is what we have been called ever since we left Myrtle Beach so it got our attention. Usually when someone is calling you they are nearby and need to pass to one side or another, so it’s easy to verify that it is actually your boat that’s being hailed; you take a look around. If there’s a boat nearby, and the signal was strong there’s a pretty good chance that you are the southbound catamaran being called. In this case there were no boats nearby so we just assumed that we were picking up a call for someone else within range. A minute later the same call, this time it was more specific: “the southbound catamaran in the Savannah river just past marker G82″. Now we knew without a doubt that whoever this was was definitely calling us. I answered back in my best captainly voice and soon learned that we were discussing matters with a real captain, the captain of the HC Everest. As the name would imply this was by far the biggest ship we have seen so far. The reason we didn’t see it the first time was because we mistook it for a building. A big building. The building was headed right for us, and the captain was requesting a port to port pass. He politely requested that we stay as far starboard as our draft would allow. Jaime and I discussed this for a while and then decided to comply with his request, but only because he was so polite. This was classic; the little slapdash and the mighty Everest crossing paths on the way to Savannah.
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We tentatively finished the 8 mile trip up the river. We passed a couple more tankers, and were quite proud of our nautical abilities as we successfully navigated the daunting ‘Wrecks Channel’ on the way in. Living up to its name we snapped pics of the exposed wrecks all the way along. More reminders that it can always be worse (you can never have too many).
We pulled up to the city docks. This was a waterfront city and they have a public dock right in front of historic River Street which is packed with restaurants, bars, and a city square. The streets were paved with cobble stones that had originally served as ships ballast for the first boats to arrive here from England. This was the heart of the tourist district and a crowd was watching us pull in. We rose to the occasion and made our first public landing like a couple of pros. We both had purpose in our walk and a little extra flair as we tied the dock lines and shut down the boat. We must have fooled them and looked like we knew what we were doing because soon we were fielding questions and gratefully accepting compliments about our boat from the people gathered in the square.
Stop what you are doing and go to Savannah. This was an incredible little city and will be tough to beat. It’s 18 miles from the Atlantic and situated on a 40 foot bluff overlooking the Savannah river. The 4-5 story brick and stone buildings that line the waterfront were built hard against the bluff and connected to the street above by iron and wooden bridges. This was the first “planned city” in the US and apparently it was a pretty good plan. It’s laid out like a grid with squares and parks throughout. Nearly the whole thing is made up of restored historic buildings which have been here through the turn of the century, and the turn of the century before that, and the… you get the point.
With slapdash secured and plenty of fenders in place to protect her from all the boat traffic we set off to find food. We found food, and beer, and some really cool street musicians. No matter where we were it was just a few steps to see the boat tugging away at the cleats. We told our story to a couple of guys that were a part of the crowd enjoying the buskers, and soon we were back at the slapdash picking up some more beer. Then they took us out to the Bayou Cafe up the street for a few more. By the time we decided to call it a night it was getting pretty late. We got back to the boat and saw that we had a couple of neighbors. There were 2 massive yachts tied up beside us. They were brand new, like still had the plastic on the windows kind of new. Turns out that they had come all the way from Australia on one of the container ships we had passed. The delivery crews brought them here for the night and planned to head out in the morning. We hung out with these guys for a while and toured both of the boats. The engine room was bigger than our whole boat, it needed to be to house the twin 1500 horsepower diesel engines. These boats were magnificent, and for the 2 million dollars it would cost you to own one they probably should be should be. To make a long story short, they needed a hand delivering the boats the next day and we signed on. What a rush. After you spend a couple of weeks going 6 miles an hour, a 32 knot trip in a multi million dollar yacht is quite a rush. They were burning over a hundred liters of diesel an hour at top speed (the gauges were in metric because the boats were from Aus), and with the cabin door shut you couldn’t hear the faintest whisper from engine, wind or sea. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it can get you a pretty sweet boat.
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After the delivery we shuttled back to Savannah and finished up the day by taking a walking tour of Savannah, home of the Girl Guides. That’s right, the legacy started here. We saw the house where the cookie peddling empire that we know today has its humble roots. Like I said, Savannah will be tough to beat.
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tuesday october 23, 2007 (queen bess creek, georgia)
We put a snotty 40 miles between us and Savannah today. 20-25 knot headwinds all day, we missed a turn and had to back track, and it rained all day. One highlight is that we had our 3rd chance to get the sails up. That was fun, but we are getting tired of “The Ditch”. I think we are both felling the need for some tropical weather and turquoise blue water.
One highlight today is that we can take showers today. It was so great being tied right up to the heart of downtown in Savannah, but for all its benefits it didn’t provide for much privacy.
From this anchorage we are almost exactly 100 miles North of Florida.
saturday october 27, 2007 (fernandina beach, fl)
We made it! We’re back in Florida now. We came in last night after a couple of forgettable anchorages in Georgia. We were glad to get here safely. The weather went from bad to worse and as we were crossing one of the bigger sounds a huge thunderstorm hit us. In a matter of minutes visibility went to about a hundred feet. Water showered down on us and lightening strikes were way too close for comfort. Being in the middle of a sound underneath a 46 ft metal rod sticking up from the surface of the water is a dangerous place to be during an electrical storm. We checked the chart for the nearest place to take shelter and then made haste in that general direction. We wondered where the 6 or 7 commercial shrimp boats were that shared the sound with us were, but had bigger problems. We expected to have all the electronics fried at any moment, so Jaime was charting out the course to our shelter. I was peering out into the storm watching for markers and shrimp boats. Things were pretty tense and then a big flash and my hands were thrown off the helm and I was pushed back into my seat. I was sure we were hit, but after a quick check all systems seemed normal, the compass wasn’t even demagnetized so it was probably just an arc or something. My eyes were really bloodshot, that seemed to be the only effect it had. We made it to a little creek and pulled in to weather out the storm. It didn’t last long, and pretty soon we were back under way; a bit nervous, and again humbled but still making miles south which made us happy.
Fernandina beach is on Amelia Island which actually looks like a nice place. The island was first claimed by the French back in the 1500’s, then taken by the Spanish, then the English. Then the English gave it back to the Spanish who had it taken from them again, this time by a group of American patriots. There were a few more exchanges after that. It’s this hot potato history that explains their chosen moniker; “The Isle of Eight Flags”.
As fascinating as that is this will mostly be a fuel and internet stop for us. We’ll take a day to get our chores done and then make way for St. Augustine tomorrow. It will be a record day for us if we make it all the way there, about 75 miles. The weather is still crappy and we want to keep going South.
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sunday october 28,2007 (fernandina beach, fl)
So much for the record day we had planned. Everything was all worked out, the tide would push us along the way and with an early start the trip to St. Augustine would be a cinch. We were up at 6AM and began making preparations in the dark. We had to lower the rudders, the drive leg, secure the dink, run through our engine checks and pull the anchor. We started these usual proceedings during a very unusual morning. The wind was howling. Halyards were clanging against the mast, it was difficult for us to hear each other on deck, and the rollers were building in size and speed. We decided to go about our tasks separately as usual and then once everything was ready we would meet together in the settee before pulling the anchor. In these conditions it would be tough to change our minds once we had pulled the anchor.
We finished up, sat down inside and tuned in the VHF to the weather channel. We listened to the doom and gloom story while looking at the charts to determine how much exposure we would have to the wind and waves during the long leg we had planned for today. After a good 20 minutes of deliberation we decided to go for it. Our reasoning was that we would surely experience weather worse than this on our trip, so why not get out there and dish up some crappy weather experience now.
We assumed our positions. Jaime was on deck and I was ready to maneuver spadash into place so that she could pull the anchor rode up. We lurched into gear. Normally the boat would surge forward under idle, but as I already mentioned this was not a normal day. It took 1800 RPM to make enough headway against wind and current to take the tension out of the anchor line. It was at that point that we decided to call it. We had no schedule, no commitments and no reason to hurry. Why test the odds today when we had good holding and nowhere to be?
We were both relieved to let the anchor do its job while we waited out the storm in the comfort of our cozy shelter. Jaime baked cookies which turned out much better than her attempt at bread a week before and had the added benefit of warming up the cabin. Seems funny to say that when we are in Florida, but this really was a crappy, wet and windy day.
Life was good safe and secure while the flood tide worked in unison with the northerly wind to hold us tight against the anchor. We exchanged comments about the good holding and how well our anchor seemed to be working for us. That same morning we watched a 45-50 foot cabin cruiser try to set anchor beside us for 3 hours before finally giving up and taking refuge in the nearby marina. Our cockiness was short lived. Gradually and inevitably the flood tide turned into an ebb tide. The recent full moon has added some extra gusto to the tides which are 8 feet at the best of times. Now we were right in the middle of a 4 knot current pushing directly against a 20-25 knot head wind. It was a good battle but neither side would concede. It was like watching a couple of guys arm wrestling, faces red with exertion, sweating and groaning but no movement either way. In this analogy we would have been right in the middle of their clasped hands. Basically the tide pushed us sideways and held us at exactly 90 degrees against the wind. Likewise, the wind prevented the tide from completing what would have been the usual 180 degree swing on our anchor. It pinned us against the current created by the tide. Now we were broadside to the full effect of the wind. Wind pushing against the water trying to rush out of the bay created these really steep and rapid breaking waves. They weren’t alarmingly large or anything, but not the type of wave you want to present the broadside of your boat to. At this point we were not in any danger, but were extremely uncomfortable. If the wind picked up any more and pushed more water at us, it could be another story because the anchorage we were in had no protection to the North wind. It basically had its way with us.
Six hours later the wind won the epic battle. The tide had spent itself and the wind had not let up a single knot of its seemingly endless supply. Now current and wind were allies and swung back around to face the waves head on. This was a much more pleasant scenario for us except for the fact that we were now close enough to another boat behind us to read over their shoulders. If our anchor was to slip in the least we would have no time to react before plowing into them. Time for another decision; do we trust our holding or risk pulling anchor and trying to reset it in these hideous conditions?
We had to move. With nightfall coming there was no way we could just turn in and hope for the best. We decided to use what little daylight was left to try and reset the anchor.
Wind and spray plastered Jaime as she struggled to keep her footing on the pitching bow. After watching that power boat struggle with their anchor earlier this morning we knew we had to be ready for anything. We discussed the game plan in detail before doing anything because once she was on deck and I was at the helm there was no way we would be able to hear each other over the wind. Fortunately a couple of other boats had already packed it in which left us lots of room to maneuver. Other than that weren’t really any redeeming qualities about the task at hand. Amazingly we managed to get the anchor up and safely secured on deck. It took nearly everything little slapdash had to make headway at this point, but she managed. We worked our way into a great position which would allow for as much anchor line to be dispensed as we needed to feel safe. Once Jaime dropped the anchor I eased off on the throttle and she began to play out the line. I had trouble regaining control once wind and current began to push us back so we wouldn’t be able to set the anchor. Normally we would let about a third of the planned amount of line out, cleat it off and set the anchor. Once we knew it was secure then we would let the rest out. Well by the time I had regained control at the helm enough for her to secure the line we had let out 200 feet. We got lucky though and it held fast. I’m sure our neighbors were relieved to see us put some distance between us, we sure were. With an firmly set anchor, lots of line, and good swinging room we secured everything the best we could and went to bed. We were exhausted from the efforts, constant motion, and howling wind.
monday october 29,2007 (fernandina beach, florida)
If it wasn’t for the exhaustion we wouldn’t have had any sleep at all. We did crash fitfully, until the tide turned in the wee hours. Then it was back to the old arm wrestle again. The boat lurched from side to side. Out the cabin window it was water then city lights, water then city lights. The view was accompanied by a lot of crashing and bashing. Unbelievably the wind had not settled in the least, in fact it was worse. The only good thing about the gale that was now raging is that it was strong enough to flatten out the waves a little. We knew that wouldn’t last though. As mentioned, neither of us slept much and I made frequent trips outside to check our position, and the wind gauge. It was now holding at 30-31 knots and gusting to 35. Waves were slamming into the hull so hard that you could literally watch the floor mats jump up off the ground. The sound was unbelievable, it was like living inside a base drum and everything shook and shuddered. I kept thinking about the advice an old sailor we had met the day before gave. He said, “These boats are a lot more comfortable in the ocean than you will ever be. They were built for this and can take a lot more punishment than you”. I hoped it was true because at the moment it sounded like the ocean was doing its best to crash through the hull and join us inside. Imagine someone repeatedly kicking and slamming themselves against your front door in the middle of the night so hard that the pictures on your wall were shaking and falling down. That’s what it was like.
We listened to the weather report again this morning. These are some tid-bits that the computer generated voice of the National Weather Service shared with us as we sipped our coffee and listened to the waves explode in their unrelenting suicide attacks against the side of our boat:
“Expect significant Nor East event to continue. Seas 12-16 feet. Gail warning in effect. Wind warning in effect. Rain warning in effect. Flood watch in effect. High risk of rip currents. Small crafts may capsize. Winds 40 knots.”
To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. There was actually some good news in there for us too. the computer generated voice went on to report that tropical cyclone formation was not expected in the next 48 hours. Wow, that’s just great.
We have now joined the other scaredy cats in the marina to wait this thing out. The marina was nearly full of boats waiting out foul weather, even the commercial fishing boats are all tied up. Our next trick was to try and get our boat safely into the marina in this weather, and that we did. Seems like every time we get ourselves psyched up to try and do something really big and terrifying, it goes off without a hitch. It’s the little things that get you out here.
What a relief to be out of that crap. After getting tied up we promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours, thankful that we didn’t have to clutch the mattress to keep from rolling off.
Now we are off to find out what kind of indoor activities Fernandina Beach has to offer.
September 2007 Florida to South Carolina
sunday september 2,2007 (fort myers,florida)
Today we did four things:
- Slept until noon
- Ate at one of the 565 thousand Perkins… there’s one on every corner
- Made ourselves a long list of to-do’s
- Went to Comp-USA and set our laptop up to secure this internet connection
Boat shopping starts tomorrow!
monday september 3,2007 (fort myers,florida)
We are focusing on three top boats right now. We had two of them lined up before we left Vancouver, so have been able to do loads of homework comparing asking prices, what equipment they come with, general condition, etc. The third boat is a bit of a dark horse; a virtual unknown to us.
We were at West Marine today drooling over all kinds of fancy and expensive equipment that we would probably never need, at least that’s what we told ourselves. We had to buy something so settled on a book. It’s Jack London telling the story of his own Pacific crossing, “The cruise of the Snark” (great name for a boat don’t you think?). On the way out we started chatting with the clerk. He probably spent 10 minutes giving us directions, contacts, tips, and recommendations. A really nice guy. After he drastically discounted the book (by about 90 percent!) we paid and were on the way out the door when he handed us a copy of “The Florida Mariner”, local classifieds filled with ads for used boats.
You have to remember that we had done a ton of research before leaving Vancouver, have been scanning all the usual sources on line since we’ve been here, and have a couple of brokers keeping in touch with us. There wasn’t a used boat in Florida that we didn’t know about, or so we thought. I promise to pick this story line back up in another post, but right now there are a couple of important matters to discuss:
First, we are aware of the painful lack of photographic evidence in these posts to illustrate our stories and keep you amused. We here at slapdash intend to resolve this as quickly as possible but have encountered a barrage of frustrating technical difficulties that nearly cost our laptop it’s life on more than one occasion. Bear with us and you will be rewarded with many colorful shots of me modeling the eight pack of speedos I picked up from Target (they should look pretty sweet with the “one pack” of abs I picked up from Molsons).
Second, this page automatically puts the newest posts at the top. Maybe it’s just me, but I find that completely annoying. We read from top to bottom, so it seems dumb that you start at an entry (like today for example), read it and then scroll up page to see what happenes on the next day. You should be able to start where you left off and just read down the page until you get to the last (most recently added) post. Simple right? Wrong. I have been led to believe that arranging your posts in a descending chronological order has roughly the technological equivalent of putting men on Mars. Frankly, I don’t see what the big deal is there either but we’ll stick to sailing for now and leave interplanetary travel to the NASA nerds. Now scroll “up” the page and read the next post.
tuesday september 4,2007 (port charlotte,florida)
Did you know that Henry Ford and Thomas Edison both had summer homes in Fort Myers? Neither did I, but that’s what we learned on our way to Port Charlotte this morning. It was 7:30 in the morning. I was driving, Jaime was navigating. In between giving me directions, she referenced little tidbits like these ones from the tourist map we have been using to find our way around. You know the kind. There’s a bunch of useless trivia, a whole section of coupons that could save you a dollar if you decided to join Bubba for one of his “world famous” Swamp Buggy tours, and a cartoon style map which annoyingly shows the location of every business that sponsored the printing costs (in this case Perkins) at 10 times the size of anything useful on the map, like road names and landmarks.2007-09-11
So it’s about an hour to Port Charlotte. We were going there to meet a broker who was going to show us a really well equipped 2002 Gemini at a reasonable price. I had been happily sipping on a Grande breakfast blend the whole way, quite proud of the fact that I got up early enough to iron the white shirt that I was wearing, certain that this would make a great first impression. Although I could now tell you where Tom and Henry’s vacation homes were, I was completely unenlightened in other matters, such as the relationship between liquids, gravity, and time. It seems that my cup had sprung a slow leak. Slow enough to escape detection, but substantial enough to completely cover the front of my still wrinkle free, formerly white shirt in breakfast blend (trust me on that one, the picture really doesn’t do it justice). It was too early for any stores to be open, so a new shirt was not an option. Jaime called the broker to tell him that we would be late. We tore open the boxes that were still in our trunk hoping to find a replacement. No luck. What would you have done? I hit the bathroom at the Circle K, stripped off my shirt, held it under the tap and started scrubbing it with that pink restroom soap. This process had the added benefit of giving the shirt a pinkish hue to offset the coffee stains, and at the same time managed to totally soak the front of my shorts in restroom tap over-spray. Cool. Now after being immediately labeled a complete slob by anyone who met me, they would also get to wonder in silent disgust about the suspicious looking wet spot on my crotch. I wrung the shirt out as best I could and let the dripping wet, slightly pink, coffee stained thing sag off of me. We drove the rest of the way, windows rolled down, while Jaime tried to convince me that it wasn’t that bad. She couldn’t even keep a straight face. We finally met the broker a half hour late.
The good news is that the boat is not what we were looking for. Funny how something can sound magnificent on paper, but when you see it in person it’s a whole different story. The previous owners were clearly the do-it-yourself types. Nothing against that. We are too, but unfortunately they weren’t very good at it. Imagine taking an expensive boat that you just bought brand new (they were the original owners) and then decide that you could probably improve upon the original design by modeling your own add-ons out of plywood. Not good.
On the way home we met up with the owner of the second boat we were looking at. This boat was beautiful. A 2005, and well equipped. All the installations were done professionally (not made from plywood) and this was the third Gemini that he had owned. As you can imagine he knew the boat inside out and it was meticulously maintained. He had just bought another brand new boat, which was the only reason this one was up for sale. Sounds perfect? It did to us, except for the price. We decided to make an offer on the boat anyway. We were extending ourselves financially and we knew it. This was quickly justified by convincing ourselves that it would be worth it to have a better than new, safe, reliable, and totally equipped boat. In the end we couldn’t meet on a price, and the deal fell through. Funny thing is that neither of us were disappointed. Our reaction actually surprised us a little; we were both relieved. Maybe it’s true that we wouldn’t have had to worry about the condition of the boat at all, but what good is that if you are worried about how you are going to pay for it?
If we learned anything today it was to make damned sure that you don’t have a defective lid on your large coffee. We also learned that the old saying “you get what you pay for” is true in most cases.
wednesday september 5,2007 (marathon,florida)
We basked in momentary relief brought on by a realization that we would not have to set up a meth lab in our hotel room to pay for a boat we couldn’t afford. Probably a good thing anyway, I’m sure that our neighbors already have enough competition (have I mentioned how nice our hotel is?). The relief faded when we realized that we still didn’t have a boat, and the runner up was the Red Green plywood and duct tape special. It was at this moment that we finally decided to open up that issue of the Florida Mariner we got from the guy at West Marine.
More out of boredom that any real purpose, I casually flipped through the pages. As expected, we named off all the boats listed in there that we already knew about including the two we had just looked at. Then, on the second to last page there was a sharp looking 2002 at a reasonable price previously unknown to us. This was the aforementioned dark horse. After a quick phone call Jaime confirmed that the boat was still available. It was only a 4 hour drive away in the Florida Keys (Marathon), and listed only in this one publication and nowhere else.
We were up early again and within 12 hours of spotting the ad we were back in the car with the lid securely attached to my coffee, radio tuned into “Bob FM” (the Floridian equivalent of Jack FM), with Jaime keeping a sharp eye out for Alligators. The Alligators, much to her dismay, were impervious to her high pitched and relentless “Alligator call’ which I had the good fortune of hearing every 10 minutes for the next 4 hours. So this is how we rolled, full of optimism and excited to be headed back to the Keys. Jaime and I had a great dive trip to Key Largo a couple years ago and she has been back since with her Mom. We loved the place, and were glad that there was a boat there to provide us with the good excuse we needed to go back.
The boat was nearly perfect. My first sight of her was through a crack in the fence that I was peeing behind. We had pulled up to the boatyard wondering how we were ever going to find it amongst the hundreds sitting there. I needed a pee break before we started anything that ambitious, so Jaime pulled over in an inconspicuous spot behind a fence. It was risky, but necessary. I was carefully scanning for intruders through the gap in the fence when I focused in on a nice looking catamaran up on blocks with the hulls being prepped for painting. Sure enough the name matched. This was our boat. It was love at first pee, er… sight.
We both had a really good feeling as we approached her. This feeling only got stronger as we met the owner and toured the boat. They are fixing everything, and it will be like new by the time they are finished. I was trying to keep it cool and hem and haw while we were shown around, but there was no point. Jaime loved it. If you have ever seen Jaime when in the presence of something she’s really excited about; her bike, candy etc, you will know exactly what I am getting at. Let’s just say that she would probably be a lousy poker player. Normally this might put you in a tough position when you are trying to negotiate the purchase of a boat, but in this case it seemed to work out perfectly. I think the owner was genuinely happy to see someone really excited about the boat, and we were left with the impression that it was going to be tough for her to see the boat go. So who buys her boat would be nearly as important as the business side of the deal.
We drove home that night with a lot to think about. Today we are going to catch up on a few chores, including updating the website and deciding what to do next. We have one day left at the hotel and are considering moving closer to the Keys to be near the boat. We will make an offer on her today, get back to the plywood special people, and tie up some loose ends from home. It’s been a busy week. We have already put over 800 miles on the rental car.
Who knew f-unemployment would be so hectic?
thursday september 6,2007 (fort myers,florida)
We didn’t have a great sleep last night. It may be the anxiety of not knowing when, where, or which boat we will end up in. Then again it may have been the Latino girl pounding on the window right next to ours in a murderous rage at 3 AM. She was screaming over and over again at the top of her lungs, “WHO YOU GOT UP IN THERE CHRIS??”
Did I mention what a nice hotel we were staying at? In retrospect, we could have anticipated some domestic disputes like the one put on by our neighbors last night. When we checked in there was a big sign at the front desk that read, “SECURITY DEPOSIT REQUIRED FOR LOCALS ONLY. $100 CASH”. Being that we were from out of town, the $100 cash security deposit was not required. When questioned on this disparity, the rather large and ill humored front desk lady just raised her eyebrow, as if to say, “you had best not ask about such things boy” and then went back to reviewing the contract with us. Her left hand pointed out the places that needed my initials. You know, typical stuff like “we will not hold the hotel liable for any death or dismemberment that may occur on the premises”. We were both distracted by the hot pink 2 inch long nails. Her right hand remained beneath the counter. It was probably hovering over a panic button, or much more likely, a large firearm of some description. She looked as if she could handle us herself quite easily, without much use from a panic button or firearm. She had likely seen much tougher customers. Even so our stay was almost uneventful. Until last night.
The pounding and screaming continued until Jaime and I were both awake but still disoriented. The commotion sounded as if it were taking place at the foot of our bed. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but even in the moment had the sense to realize that it was a very good thing my name was not “Chris”. Regardless I took the typical precautions of someone who’s been threatened in the middle of the night and unsure of what was happening. I put on a pair of shorts and armed myself with some random household item. In this case it was an empty wine bottle. When I peaked through the door I thought for sure that I was about to learn first hand why locals were required to leave a $100 cash deposit. We still don’t know who Chris “had up in there”, but whoever it was he was determined to keep him, her or them hidden from the murderous Latino girl. To my complete surprise, at that moment Chris actually came out of the room. Chris was a suave looking young black guy. He could have been 20, but was 22 at the most. He was as disoriented as we were and clearly terrified. I don’t blame him. The murderous Latino girl immediately tried to shove past him. Chris blocked her and quickly closed the door behind him, in doing so certainly saved the life of whoever still occupied the room. For the next several minutes we watched as Chris tried to cover the 6-8 feet from the hotel room door to his vehicle. The girl was probably 5’3 and 100 pounds but she unloaded on this guy. It was kind of like watching a murderous Latino girl version of Bruce Lee after 6 cans of Red Bull and a handful of amphetamines. Chris finally made the truck and somehow managed to get the keys out of his pocket and into the ignition while he used his free hand to fend off .023% of the blows. He couldn’t shut the door because she was standing there punching him of course. Chris started the truck and started to drive away anyway. Of course murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl was not about to just let Chris roll away and leave her there in the parking lot. No, she actually hung from the side of the truck with both hands and repeatedly bicycle kicked Chris in the ribs through the open door while he slowly drove towards the highway.
Initially I hated them both for waking us up. Now I watched them slowly leave the parking lot. A white late model Chevy Blazer going about 5 MPH with the drivers side door wide open. A heartbroken murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl clinging desperately to the side, her rapid fire feet pounding away at poor Chris in a blind fury. It was impossible to decide who to root for but one thing was clear; they truly deserved each other.
The next morning, we checked out of the Howard Johnson and drove to Miami Beach.
friday september 7,2007 (miami beach,florida)
We packed up and moved base camp to Miami today. We’ve put over a thousand miles on the rental car now so pretty much consider ourselves experts on driving in Florida. Here are some things that we have learned. First, rest stops here must be very dangerous places. They actually advertise which ones have security on the premises and which ones do not. Not sure if this has anything to do with alligators but it seems odd that you would pick a place to take a leak based on the level of security available.
The second thing we’ve learned is that Floridian drivers are incredibly courteous. Seriously. No tail gating, no middle fingers, they let you in when you signal. Maybe we were just jaded being from Vancouver. On the other hand it could be because 90% of the drivers here are retired. Either way the driving experience here is not the inherently dangerous sport that we’re used to. In fact we haven’t even heard (or used) the horn since we’ve been here.
Lastly, bring cash. Jaime and I have subsidized at least one restroom security guard’s salary; in the last 3 days we have passed through 14 toll booths! No exaggeration. This is a factual and documented figure. After we passed through the 4th one (which was exactly 10 miles after we passed through the 3rd one) we couldn’t believe it ourselves, so started to keep track. We are up to 14 right now and sure that the figure will climb.
On to the reason that we’re here; to find a boat. Gemini’s must be fantastic catamarans. Nobody that has one seems to want to sell it. It’s like some kind of cult. We are currently dealing with the 3rd set of reluctant Gemini sellers. Yesterday these owners started up with the all too familiar “not sure that we want to sell it” spiel. I don’t know why they even bother advertising them. One lady actually changed her mind and decided to keep her boat for one more sailing season while Jaime was on the phone with her! This is actually the reason we are in Miami right now. Fort Myers was a 4.5 hour drive away from the latest boat we’re hot on. We felt a little helpless being in South West Florida, while they were over in the Keys fixing up “our” boat (this is the same boat we told you about a couple days ago). It’s located in Marathon, so we decided to position ourselves within striking distance. Miami Beach is sort of a half way point, so tomorrow we will head for the Keys. We need to be there so that when in a moment of weakness they finally decide to sell, we can pounce. Tomorrow we will check out, find a hotel in Key Largo, Marathon, or maybe Key West, and plan our next move from there.
Sneak attacks are our specialty; they won’t even see us coming. Wish us luck.
saturday september 8,2007 (florida city,florida)
Not for sale! Unbelievable. So we had packed up, moved across the state to position ourselves for this sale only to find out that when these people were writing their ad, they should have placed the word “not” right before the words, “for sale”.
We found a hotel though, one that Chris and the murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl would enjoy. We are getting really good at loading and unloading our 9 stupid “kitchen appliance” pieces of luggage (as described in the August 31st post). But hey, a small price to pay to get your hands on the boat that will put your dreams in motion right? I mean, this is supposed to be a 4-5 year world circumnavigation. What’s swapping out a rental cars, a half dozen toll booths and several hours squished in the in the car again? All part of the ride. These are the things that we were trying to convince each other of when we were sweating in the third crappy hotel of the trip. Then the phone rang. Jaime was chatting away with somebody. I assumed it was the sellers. It was a seller all right, but not the seller we had come all this way to see. This particular seller was a lady from Myrtle Beach South Carolina, and she was telling Jaime that our boat was no longer on the market! Imagine our surprise.
We had driven from Ft Myers to Marathon to look at their boat day before yesterday. We spent a half a day with the alleged seller. We made our intentions clear. We drove back to Fort Myers. We packed up our stuff. We drove back across the state (3rd time) to be in position to close on the deal. Now after all of that a lady 2 states and 750 miles to the North calls to tell us that the boat isn’t on the market anymore. Huh?
The sellers turned out to be keepers. Imposters. We called the keepers, and the Myrtle Beach ladies’ story checked out; they had actually decided not to sell their boat. I’m not sure when they were going to let us in on this little scandal. After all, it certainly wasn’t the worlds best kept secret. Apparently this was all common freaking knowledge to the citizens of Myrtle Beach South Carolina!
Even so, we don’t think this was malicious. It was probably just another sad case of “Gemini-keep-acosis”. A condition we are becoming all too familiar with. Apparently it only effects potential catamaran sellers, and is dormant until their boat is advertised for sale. This extremely frustrating disease can be aggravated when qualified and/or motivated buyers go to great lengths to purchase their boat. Apparently symptoms include but are not limited to; uncertainty, indecisiveness, posturing and other wishy-washy type behaviors. I wish that this disease could be treated with some kind of bodily harm, but apparently all you can do is walk away. Besides, turns out that bodily harm is mostly illegal in the state of Florida. So is peeing in public, but that’s another story. It’s not a contagious disease though, because if you can’t buy a catamaran you have no chance of owning one. If you don’t own one you are obviously immune to Gemini-keep-acosis.
There is a silver lining to this crazy story. Turns out that the lady who called us also had a Gemini for sale. She said it was better than the one we were looking at, and that all of their Gemini-keep-acosis inoculations were up to date.
Hmm, could have potential?
wednesday september 12,2007 (myrtle beach,south carolina)
Here’s what the slapdash scorecard looks like:
- Rental Cars rented : 4
- Miles Traveled: 2000+
- Fast food meals: 24
- Toll booths paid: 23
- Crappy Hotels slept in: 4
- US states traveled through: 3
- Boats looked at: 6
- Offers made: 2
- Boats that we own: 0
Sunday was a day of decisions. We had no reason to stay in Florida City, the boat we were there to buy was no longer on the market. There were 3 boats left on our list; the duct tape and plywood special, one in Crystal River that 3 people had warned us about (apparently it was in really rough condition), and the Myrtle Beach ladies’ boat.
You know that fortune cookie, something like; in times of crisis opportunity can be found? (in bed) Well, we exchanged some emails with the owners of the Myrtle Beach boat. It started sounding better and better. Only 3 years old, lots of upgrades, meticulously maintained, and a price that was nearly within reach. The downside? It was 2 states away. That’s a pretty big commitment; a 24 hour roundtrip plus expenses. That’s a lot to take on just to have a look at a boat. We were torn between making a low ball offer on one of the Florida boats, and setting our sites high on another boat that was a stretch both geographically and financially. We decided not to make the trip unless we had an accepted offer. So on Sunday night we made one. Then we waited… and waited… and waited. Nothing.
On Sunday night the last thing I did before I went to bed was check the email for a response to our offer. Nothing. When I woke up Monday morning I repeated the process. Nothing. Check-out time was 10:30 AM. We left hotmail open and refreshed the page every 10 minutes. Shower, get dressed, refresh the page; nothing. We packed our bags, refresh the page; nothing. Load the car, refresh the page; nothing. We lingered, fidgeted, lollygagged and stalled. Finally we went down to the front desk to settle up our bill. When we got back to our room, the only thing we hadn’t packed was the laptop. It was still sitting there on the table, plugged in, hotmail open. So we refreshed the page. Nothing.
We left the Hotel and were headed West. We had set our sights on the duct tape and plywood special. It was in Port Charlotte and this would be our 4th trip across Florida. We were going to have a second look and planned to convince ourselves that this was probably the best thing anyway. We had renovated a couple of condos before leaving Vancouver to save money for the trip, so maybe we could do the same thing with this boat. Then the phone rang and 10 minutes later we were headed North on the I-95 towards Myrtle Beach South Carolina.
Our car couldn’t leave the state. Actually it could, but Alamo would charge us $1000.00 USD. Can you say extortion? We drove to the Miami International Airport, gave the gangsters their car back and took one from an agency across the street. The good guys charged us $121.57 USD (including tax) for the same trip. It cost us 2 hours but saved us $878.43 USD. After that fiasco, and 9 unavoidable toll booths we were on our way. It was 3:30PM, which would mean that if we were able to stay awake we would be in Myrtle Beach by about 4:00AM.
We passed Fort Lauderdale, West Palm Beach, Daytona Beach, Disney World, and The Kennedy Space center at Cape Canaveral. We followed in the tracks of Bo and Luke Duke through the state of Georgia. Fortunately Rosco P. Coltrane had the night off because we drove it like a rental. The cruise control must have been set at 90 MPH for at least 8 hours straight. We took turns driving and put Georgia behind us without incident. We rolled into South Carolina sometime in the wee hours Monday morning. We arrived almost exactly as planned at 4:00AM. We were up at 8:00AM, and met our latest “sellers” at 9:30AM.
So far so good, but that’s all we are saying right now. Until something irrefutable happens our mouths are shut. That’s been a road well traveled, and I think there’s another fortune cookie that says something about being once bitten twice shy (in bed). Or was that an 80’s hair band?
wednesday september 19,2007 (myrtle beach,sc)
The following is now official and recognized by the State of South Carolina; Slapdash is a Gemini 105Mc built by Performance Cruising International (PCI); hull number 860. Her first and only owners before us are a couple from Charlotte NC named Ted and Rhonda. They picked up “Wingin’ It” (current name) from the factory in Annapolis Maryland in July of 2004. Since then they have cruised up and down the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) more than once and even across the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.
If you have stuck with us this far you will know that the road to Myrtle Beach has had its twists and turns. Since we landed in Fort Myers on Saturday September 1st life has been a bit of a rodeo; a blur of exciting discoveries, optimism, skepticism, shitty hotels and a lot of fast food. We would have never guessed that every mile, plot twist and Junior Bacon Cheeseburger was leading us here.
We drove into town at 4AM one week ago today and as usual were looking for our crap hotel. On the way we had both gawked at this beautiful marina. There were two 18 hole golf courses surrounded by multi million dollar homes. The yachts there looked like they could fetch the same price as some of the mansions. 10 award winning tennis courts were lit up at night, a massive hotel, fancy restaurants and an absolutely gorgeous marina made up the complex. We laughed about how funny it would be if our boat was at this place, and then both secretly hoped that it would be. There were over a hundred boats and only 3 or 4 had masts though. This place would have a 10 year waiting list in Vancouver. Our fantasy of wining and dining with the elitists was unlikely to say the least.
It turns out that it was only as unlikely as the rest of the stuff that has happened to us so far, because here we are sitting at that very marina. Here’s a link to their website. Make sure to check out the photo gallery and you will see that we are not exaggerating at all.
Ted and Rhonda had paid for their slip up to October the 8th, so we just took it over. This could not have worked out better for us. We don’t have to figure out what to do with a boat sitting in a hot dusty boatyard. We don’t have to buy one and nervously sail it out of a private slip right away or anything like that. Instead we will live with the rich folk here for a few weeks (while enjoying the full extent of their amenities of course) and get used to the boat. We are out of the hurricane belt up here so don’t have to worry about that anymore, and have a neat new leg of the trip we had never planned on, the ICW.
Back to the boat now, this thing is mint. Better than new may be a commonly used expression, but it applies to this boat. We spent 3 days with Ted and Rhonda going over the whole boat from stem to stern. They are moving on to new adventures, so left the boat fully equipped. It would be impossible to detail the extent of what that means; basically it would be equivalent to moving into a furnished home. It will save us thousands. Money is only part of it though. It would have also taken us months if not years to figure all of the little things that they have already done. As if that weren’t enough we all got drunk on “Mohamed Ali’s” (some kind of crazy Rum drink) while they passed on everything they could think of regarding the operation and maintenance of the boat. The whole thing has given us a huge head start and we consider ourselves very lucky.
Incidentally, if you have seen our simple plan page then you know that we wanted to have this whole boat buying part of our trip locked up in a couple of weeks. We knew it was aggressive, but also felt that it was entirely possible. The brokers (one in particular) that we talked to tried to convince us otherwise. She thought we were nuts, big surprise, and told us to plan for 4-6 weeks at best! To make a long story short, we decided that we didn’t need her negativity and would just take it on ourselves. We ended up buying without help from a broker, and the boat was listed by the owners. We closed on Friday September 14th, exactly one day before our 2 week goal.
Over the next week or so we have a long list of preparations to make. We are going to have the engine serviced because the ICW will require a lot of motoring. There’s also a rubber boot that goes out to the drive leg we are going to replace. It sees a lot of sun and water where it’s positioned so can crack and should be replaced every so often because it holds the oil that lubricates gears for the drive leg. Good thing I’m such an astute marine mechanic or that could have caused us some trouble down the line. Okay, “astute” may be pushing it a little. Alright, so is “mechanic”. Fine, I’m just repeating everything Ted told me. Happy?
There is also the “simple” matter of having the boat registered in Canada. This is a huge hassle. It will cost us about a thousand bucks and take weeks (Kudos to Transport Canada!). We considered just registering to a US state, or even some other country in the Caribbean. It would be a lot easier and cheaper, but could become a headache when we clear into a foreign port of call. If our boat was registered in St. Lucia and we had Canadian passports and were trying to enter Nicaragua you can imagine how complicated things could get. Factor in a less than average command of the language and you have yourself a first class fiasco. There are ways to get a citizenship in those countries, but the whole thing starts getting pretty convoluted at that point. We could register in a US state but then we would be taking a huge chance with the USCG when we tried for Cuba. In the end we had to resign ourselves to the maddening (and expensive) bureaucracy of our home and native land. The process is so tortuous that we actually had to hire a professional that specializes solely in registering non-Canadian boats.
It’s raining like crazy today, so we are going to spend our time trying to get a few of the indoor variety of chores done.
saturday september 22,2007 (myrtle beach,south carolina)
Today marks one week of boat life for Jaime and I. It is going to take some getting used to, but we are finally settling in comfortably. We feel pretty good about the gradual transition we’ve had from full fledged land lubbers to fledgling little boat lubbers. First there was our move to the tiny apartment that we rented for a few months while we wrapped things up in Vancouver. In its own way, that was a sort of preparation for us. Trying to find places for whatever stuff we had left, ridding ourselves of anything superfluous, and realizing that being in each others way almost constantly was going to be a way of life. Then we packed up that lifestyle and traded it in for the nomadic life of wandering boat shoppers. We lived in hotels, rental cars and carted around our personal belongings in a mess of bags and boxes. Now finally, we find ourselves in a boat. We speculated that the gradual transition would prepare us fittingly. We were wrong.
At last calculation I have lived in at least 10 more homes than I have fingers and toes. Jaime counted 18 when I asked her. Between us we have experienced trailers, barns, apartments, hotels, ranchers, condos and at least one chicken coop (converted of course) not to mention extended hikes requiring all possessions to be carried on our backs for a week. Nowhere in all these situations with all their diversity could we find one to compare to living on a boat. And that is what we are doing. Living on a boat. I cannot convey this scenario to you in any meaningful way other than to try and illustrate it like this.
If you are at home right now, have a look around. Take in all of the space you are surrounded by. Now examine your belongings. Necessities like pots and pans, toilette(s), and chairs. Comfort items like furniture, television, stereo and a nice big bed. You probably have art in various forms. Sentimental bits and pieces; pictures of family and maybe a gift or two from important people in your life. Not the type of gifts that you keep because you couldn’t do without them, but the type that you keep only because of the significance of the giver. We haven’t even touched the garage yet, with tools, toys, and cleaning supplies. All together it would make a pretty big pile right? Maybe 12-15 feet high, and at least the same across the base? Now imagine you had to pick the one or two most important, practical, or meaningful items from each category. After all you will need a bed, bedding, toilette, dishes and pans. You will need some treasures to remind you of home and people. You will definitely need somewhere to sit and something to keep the beer cold, and see how long you last without some important tools or a good book. The pile is a little smaller now, but it will still cast a good sized shadow. Now try to imagine taking all that stuff, all the random shapes, sizes and weights, and fitting it onto a space that measures 32 feet by 14 at its widest and furthest points. If you are an optimist, you might think that it wouldn’t be a challenge that you couldn’t whip on a Sunday afternoon. And you might be right, until I told you that the 448 square feet you have been allotted to house all of your worldly possessions was not built for housing all of your worldly possessions. No, no, no, no, no. Quite the opposite in fact, it was built to float. It’s pointy at one end. It was built to carry sail, two of them actually. Its form follows its function, and its function is to keep the ocean out, and move you safely across it. Not, as already mentioned, to store your stuff. But store it you must. So find all the nooks and crannies, the lazarettes and compartments. The space beneath your floor is not safe, you will use that too. Above your head? You have to. Stash it, stuff it, store it, stow it, shove it, hang it, and compress it. Get creative, you are competing for space with a diesel engine and all of the fluids and spare parts that it demands. That’s not all though, there’s the anchor, actually the anchors. After all there are 4, and that’s not even counting the dinghy anchor. Did I mention the dinghy? It’s 10 feet long and has an outboard engine, and a gas tank and its very own set of fluids and spares. There’s chain, lines (I’m told that’s what ropes are called when they live on a boat), bumpers, sails, sail covers, life vests, window coverings (2 sets), a solar panel, an air conditioner, a barbeque, 4 batteries each of which are bigger and heavier than the one in your car. I could keep going if you are not yet duly impressed. Don’t believe me? Okay, there’s an EPIRB, a ditch bag, a life sling, flares, spotlights, air horns and an inverter. Charts, manuals, winch handles, and I’m just getting warmed up! Hatch covers, radar reflector, a boat pole, anchor bridle, extra mainsail cover, 2 VHF radios, and all the spare parts for your head (I’m told that this is what a toilette is named when it lives on a boat). Still a project fit for Sunday afternoon? If so, I would like to meet you. It took us 6 days and we’re not quite there yet. God forbid somebody comes for a visit. If somebody did show up right now, there’s a nice hotel near by that we would recommend.
We rewarded ourselves for a job well done today. We went out for beer and hot wings. There’s been this sign proclaiming to have the best wings South of Buffalo, so we tried it out. They had 32 different flavors, and cheap beer. Things were looking up. In the end, we weren’t overly impressed. We had a good time, but if those really were the best wings South of Buffalo, then we need to go further South. In 2 weeks we will do exactly that. Good thing too, and not just for the wings. Winter is setting in and it’s probably only 30 degrees today. Good thing for the pool.
One more thing that cannot escape mention today. Our tiny friends Dan and Ryleigh were married in White Rock, BC. We miss them a lot, and were looking forward to seeing them married. Initially we had planned to go back for the wedding, but boat buying thousands of miles from home being what it is, we had to wish them well from here. So to Dan and Ryleigh; congratulations, you were in our thoughts as we tried to imagine what you would be doing throughout the day. Come visit soon!
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thursday september 26,2007 (myrtle beach,south carolina)
Jaime spent nearly an entire day in the aft starboard cabin (that’s the rear bunk on the drivers side for you landlubbers). It has served as the untamed tool shed, parts department, pantry and landing pad for any other miscellaneous items that we didn’t feel like dealing with right away. She fought bravely. I managed to coax her out with a sandwich at lunchtime, but after a quick break she went back in. Thanks to her efforts we have just about everything packed away now, and are starting to feel at home. We know where just about everything lives and even have an inventory in case we forget. There is only room for one in there so while she waged war on this formidable enemy I studied the owners manual and figured out how a bunch of things work, fixed the galley light switch, attached the flag, and vacuumed. Another successful day which we celebrated in our favorite haunt, the pool. After that we capped off the evening with barbequed chicken, green beans, astronaut mashed potatoes and the finest red wine a box has to offer.
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Today it’s back to the grind. There have been a few more hitches in our never ending registration process. First; in their unbounded wisdom, our delightful Canadian Government (let’s just call them bastards for short), will not accept our bill of sale. It seems that the bastards have their own form that they would like us to complete instead, which includes having the sellers’ signatures notarized. That’s something that we already did of course, but that was on the original form deemed unacceptable by the fine men and women (bastards) in Ottawa. Did I mention that the previous owners live 4 hours away? Having their signatures notarized on this document will not be an easy task.
Here’s another one; we also learned today that there is a “special” exception for catamarans in this registration process. Oh yes. We need to submit a Tonnage Survey with our paperwork. Why? I have no freaking idea why! I am not even sure what this is, but it has to be completed by a registered (of course) Tonnage Surveyor. This probably involves having our boat weighed so that the – you guessed it – “tonnage” can be accurately determined and documented… in triplicate… in two languages. Wow, special is right. I can’t tell you how good it makes us feel to have these bastards looking out for our best interests. I mean, could you imagine the implications of a bill of sale being submitted in only English, and not our other national language? Or what if our boat was registered without first paying a “documented tonnage expert” $800? That could be disastrous. I mean, it’s not like we should go around trusting the weight that the manufacturers have stamped all over the boat and detailed in the manual. What about mono-hulls you ask? Oh, they’re fine, apparently it’s just those crooked catamaran manufacturers we need to be worried about. Clearly they cannot be trusted on matters as critical as “tonnage”.
Just one last thing and I promise to move on… get this; there are no “Certified Tonnage Surveyors” in the State of South Carolina! I’m not even sure that they exist. When we ask marina people we get this really dazed look followed quickly by an expression of pity. As if to say, “there-there you poor stupid Canadians, you’ve probably just had too much sun that’s all”. Insane. Monstrous. Maddening.
Bastardly bureaucracy aside, we have a couple of small mechanical items to address. Remember the rubber boot that covers the linkage from engine to drive leg that I told you about? Well it is cracked. It had a small leak so we drained the oil out to a level just below the crack so it wouldn’t leak. We need to have that boot replaced. It is a simple procedure, but there’s always a catch. And here it is; the boot can not be replaced while the boat is in the water. This means that we need to arrange for our very first “haul out”. The marina we are staying at does not have the facilities to do this, so we have to go 15 miles North to one that does. How do you go 15 miles North when you have drained all the oil out of your drive leg? You get towed, that’s how. Our tow boat captain arrives first thing tomorrow morning. He will attach a few lines and off we go. Once we get there the boat will have a couple of straps run under the hulls and it will be lifted right out of the water and onto dry land where the stupid boot can be replaced. If it seems like a lot of work for a simple little 45 minute job, that’s because it is. At least it will make for some good pictures. Once they finish the work, they will splash us back into the water and away we go. Except this time there will be no tow boat captain, we are on our own! So stay tuned, tomorrow is a big day; towing, hoisting and our first solo trip!
Onto some website updates now, Jaime has updated the book review page in the slapmedia section. We have also updated the slapmobile page with pictures of our new boat, and speaking of pictures, as you can see we have finally managed to get some into the logs. Like the boot change tomorrow, this was another seemingly easy task that ended up being a lot of work. Also like that boot, it will be a pretty important part of the trip. After all a picture says a thousand words, so we’ll leave you with a few grand:
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friday september 28,2007 (wait,where the @#*$ are we?)
We met three Brian’s today:
- The first Brian wrecked our boat (and two others).
- The second Brian is paying to have our boat fixed.
- The third Brian is just some guy we met at the bar while drowning our sorrows. But his name was in fact Brian, which we thought was strange.
Here’s a quote from yesterdays log: “If it seems like a lot of work for a simple little 45 minute job, that’s because it is. At least it will make for some good pictures. Once they finish the work, they will splash us back into the water and away we go.”
“Splash us back into the water”. That’s rich. I think it’s my favorite part. Sounds whimsical doesn’t it? Like it was a walk in the park, or a picnic. Conjures up images of a day at the pool, or maybe the waterslides. Skip through a field of daisies on a mid summers’ afternoon and kiss your sweetheart. Tra-la-la, let’s have our boat towed up the ditch, fix our little gasket-baffle-rubber boot thingy, get splashed and be on our way.
In retrospect I don’t know if I would use quite the same combination of words to describe the day’s events. It just doesn’t tell the whole story. If I had the benefit of hindsight (which at this moment I do) I might choose these words; “Splash us with acid”. Or maybe; “if it seems like a lot of work for a simple little 45 minute job, maybe you should just be glad that nobody was horribly dismembered”.
Whatever words are used to describe this day, we are very glad that nobody was hurt. In fact as I write this, exactly 6 hours and 27 minutes ago Jaime said to me (and I quote) “About the only good thing about today is that no one was hurt”. That is a fact. Almost immediately after that she said, “Do you want a shot of Tequila?” To which I replied, “It’s 8:30 in the morning”. And then continued, “of course I do”. After that we had a second round for good measure.
Yesterdays log also reported that the day would “make for some good pictures”. Well, they must have been good because I know in truth that there are three sets in existence already, with more to come. We have a set for ourselves, the insurance company has their set, and even the marina insisted upon a set. I’m sure the other 2 boat owners, or their representatives, will be taking some as well.
We met our first Brian at 8:00AM, exactly as planned. He showed up with a nifty red tow boat. I admired the massive 240HP outboard engines (there were two). Our boat is at least twice the size and has 30HP. This shiny craft with nearly 500 horsepower at its disposal would be escorting us to our mechanic up the ditch. This would be akin to a modified cherry red Corvette pulling up to tow your car to the garage. Hey, if you gotta get towed, you might as well do it in style. As he pulled closer the good first impression made by his posh craft and punctuality was only reinforced by his good nature. Brian was a happy and professional captain. Not at all intimidating. You could tell that he loved his job. With a smile and kindly southern drawl he explained everything that was to happen in detail. Like a good doctor or dentist would, the kind that sense your anxiety and put you at ease with a few assuring words uttered with confidence. He attached a single stern line to his shiny red tow boat. The other end branched off like a “Y” and each of those ends were made fast to cleats at the front of our hulls. Jaime and I stayed on our boat. We needed to turn to starboard (right) to exit the marina, so Jaime was on the starboard side to ensure that we didn’t bump into our slip as we exited. I was on the port (left) side to ensure that when we exited the slip and swung around into the wide arcing starboard turn that we wouldn’t come into contact with any of the boats on the dock opposite us. Captain Brian powered up his twin 240’s and feathered us out of our slip. It was 8:10 in the morning, the sun had just come up, and there wasn’t a ripple on the water. He coaxed us out of our slip like we were on rails. We were impressed. Jaime and I exchanged a glance, like a wink and a nudge to say “Would you look at that. Wow, we are in good hands huh?” Once slapdash was completely clear from the slip, she was pointing maybe 15 degrees to starboard. Everything was going much more smoothly than we could have ever imagined. Captain Brian took the slack out of the line, and pointed his shiny red tow boat to the marina exit. In other words, he was attempting to complete a full right hand turn now that we were out of the slip. All was well. What happened next defies all logic. We have been over this a thousand times and still haven’t made any sense of it. He punched the engines. He must have been at 50% throttle which is a lot when your boat is packing 480 horsepower. We think his motive was to bring us about, spin us on the spot to face the exit like he was. One problem, slapdash would not be led. Like a stubborn mule she refused to take the pull to starboard. That’s not to say the boat didn’t respond. No, not at all. In fact the boat responded quite dramatically; it shot straight forward. Rapidly towards the boats across from us.
At this point I will pause to remind you of another log. This quote was taken from September 19th: “On the way we had both gawked at this beautiful marina. There were two 18 hole golf courses surrounded by multi million dollar homes. The yachts there looked like they could fetch the same price as some of the mansions.”
It looked like we were about to get very intimate with a couple of the aforementioned million dollar yachts.
Then, a critical moment. A “TSN turning point” if you will. It was the moment when Brian, Jaime, and I all realized at approximately the same time that slapdash was going to collide with the yachts. It was the moment that we have replayed in our minds a thousand times since. There we were frozen in time; Jaime peeking over the helm, me on the deck, eyes like dinner plates, and Captain Brian looking over his shoulder from the seat of his shiny red tow boat, hand on the throttle.
I can’t say I fault Brian what happened next. He was faced with a tough call that provided about a tenth of a second for deliberation. We were going to hit. Faced with this certainty, Captain Brian decided to double down. He punched it and jolted his engines to life. They roared. He was going to pull us clear, or go down hard. Captain Brian had balls. You may have already guessed what happened next.
It was the first stanchion on the port side that made impact. It snapped like a twig. Literally like a dried out branch that you would pick up and snap in half to throw on a campfire. At least that’s what flashed through my mind when I saw it happen. I had moved forward to try and fend us off of the yachts. We were much smaller, and when I saw the big bow of the Sea Ray tear the first stanchion, and then the anchor light and pulpit seat from our deck like they were made out of paper it was clear that nothing was going to stop us. The following two things occupied the next few second of my life; first was getting the hell out of the way. I employed some kind of backwards hand crab scramble that saved my legs, not graceful but effective because I still have both of them. The second was to sit and watch us finally deflect off of the first yacht and strike the second, amazingly without any momentum lost from the first crushing blow. The second yacht carried what looked to be an 80-100 pound bow anchor on rollers. It drug its way along our deck cleaning up anything the first boat left behind, and deposited the debris into the water before we finally ricocheted off.
We were all in shock. Could this have really just happened? Stunned, I went to the cockpit and asked Jaime for the boat hook. She handed it to me. I took it forward and fished our stanchions and pulpit seat out of the water. I passed the tangled mess of metal and line to Jaime and she set it down in the cockpit. Brian asked if we were okay. We were. No time to reflect, we were still a boat under tow in the middle of a marina. We made 20 yards and then Brian called back again to ask the slip numbers of the boats we had just raked over (or more accurately; under). I looked over my shoulder, spotted the plates fixed to the dock and then yelled back that they were A2 and A3. He would call back and report the incident.
We drifted silently into the canal. Now that I write this I guess it wasn’t silent at all, we were still under tow so obviously Brian’s shiny red tow boat was till under the power of his twin 240’s. I guess it was shock.
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We were 5 minutes into the canal when we finally toasted tequila shots to losing our boater virginity. After that Jaime asked how it looked “up there”. I said, “You don’t want to know”. She went forward to see for herself. We looked as we should, like a lightweight that had just picked a fight with two heavy weights, simultaneously. It would be 2 hours to our intended destination and after Jaime’s trip forward to survey the damage we didn’t say much. Then the phone rang. It was tow boat Brian. He apologized, and then silence. The poor guy was in more shock than we were. He was literally speechless, and could only apologize for what had happened. We could see him from where we sat, and saw that he couldn’t look back at us. Seems strange, but we actually felt bad for him.
Unbelievably we arrived at our destination on schedule. There a few more people than normal there to meet us; word had spread. Everyone at the marina had come to see the damage. Straps were slung under the hulls, and we were lifted out of the water like a toy. Despite all the drama, we were still thrilled to see our home lifted and we snapped pictures like a couple of tourists. It was a thrill to see slapdash plucked out of the water, and for the first time today we had a break from feeling nauseous about the wreck.
By the time it was on blocks we were already feeling better. Not because of the tequila, but because of the caring and helpful people that were waiting for us. These guys were amazing. We had been greeted like family members that had had some bad luck, and were reassured that we were in good hands; just what we needed. Laura, Maria, and Guy each did their part and guaranteed that they would make slapdash better and stronger than new. We believe them but who would pay for all this and how much would it cost?
We met the second Brian on the way to the bar. He was the first Brian’s boss and had just come from surveying the wreckage left behind at the last marina. He was not happy. We learned that in 12 years of business that this was the first claim ever made against them and it was a 3 in one. What are the odds? Lucky us. We took him to slapdash and showed him around. He was pretty quiet (fuming) but did apologize and assure us that they would take care of everything. Relief! Up until this point we were unsure of anything and could only speculate. We weren’t sure if they would take responsibility of if we were in for a fight. If we would have been on the hook for all the damages today it could have seriously abbreviated our adventure.
With that out of the way we carried on to the bar where we commiserated with the third Brian of the day. Turns out that he was a captain too (apparently this name is a prerequisite here). He piloted one of those parasailing boats and said that stuff like this happens all the time. I think he was just trying to make us feel better, but just in case you ever thought you might like to try parasailing in South Carolina sometime I won’t elaborate on the stories he told us next. While downing some cold ones and listening in horror to the fate of parasailers with luck worse than ours, Brian (second Brian) called back and let us know that work would start on our boat today. Great news! Then he gave us a confirmation number for the hotel we would be staying at only 100 yards away.
So here we sit once again in the lap of luxury. Holed up in a beautiful condo a hundred yards away from our sad little boat. We can see it from the balcony. Jaime is studying the owner’s manual and I am writing this log. It has begun. In our journey around the world we put 50 feet of water under the bow before our first real calamity. So be it. Tonight we will probably let off a little steam here in… umm, where exactly the @#*$ are we? First time the thought has crossed our minds. After all, we were supposed to be snug at “home” back in our little slip at Grand Dunes by now. You know right after they “splash us back into the water”.
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sat-unday september 29 and 30,2007 (north myrtle beach,south carolina)
We woke up on Saturday with a headache. Come to think of it, we woke up on Sunday with a headache too, but I’ll get to that in a bit. After some much needed R&R (rum and relaxation) Friday night we were feeling a lot better. It is amazing the difference a day can make. Looking back on it, we can see why. Writing about the day’s events helped us to make sense of what had happened. Having some drinks and laughing about it helped us deal with it. Talking to friends and family back home was encouraging, and while I’m at it; so were the emails. We really have to thank everyone that dropped us a note over the past couple of days. We can’t tell you how great it was to sit down and read through them. It’s easy to feel kind of isolated when you are somewhere you know absolutely nothing about and then something bad happens that you have never experienced before. At a time like that a bunch of emails from cool people is just what you need to maintain perspective. You are all good kids and we appreciate it very much. All in all this is nothing more than a little set back and a good story.
We went to the boatyard to check in on the slapdash. She was looking pretty banged up but was in good hands. Even though we hated seeing it up on blocks in the middle of a dusty yard, progress was visible which was exactly what we came to see. After that there was nothing to do but head over to Captain Poo’s for an early dinner. It may seem odd to eat at a place named after well, poo, but it’s a cool joint. Good service, great patio, and cold beers for a buck fifty. Bike week starts here on Oct 3rd too and I guess this Poo is a bit of a stop for all the bikers rolling into town. Anyway, it was a good place to check out all the bikes and bikers coming in and out. There were probably 60-70 bikes in the lot when we got there and bike week hasn’t even started. We were told that compared to next week this would be considered a slow night. Initially we thought it would have been a tough job to be one of the waitresses there this particular week, and with all these tough looking dudes figured that we had front row seats for at least a bar fight or two. We watched things unfold though, and nothing exciting happened outside of the occasional burn out and some really loud straight pipes. Then we realized that these were not your stereotypical fire and brimstone brass knuckled variety of bikers. They appeared to be a different breed. They rode the same bikes, wore the same leather but upon closer inspection you could see that they were clean shaven, had less tattoos than you would expect and I even saw one of them drinking a margarita! Yes, the vast majority of these bikers will have traded the hog for the sedan Monday morning and be sipping on a Grande no fat latte (extra foam) on the way into the office. And if one of you guys happen to be reading this, please don’t take any offence. You looked totally bad ass, and really had us going there for a while. Besides, after living in Kelowna for 5 years and getting to see our town taken over by the “patch wearing” variety of biker every July long weekend, it was nice to hang out with some bikers that weren’t trying to plunder and pillage. So here’s to all the Harley riding dentists, bankers and realtors out there.
We went home early, and after some TV had the lights out by 11. At 11:15 the phone was ringing. This is the “-unday” part of the Sat-unday post, and where I get back to that second headache I mentioned earlier.
Who would be calling us at the hotel? I groggily answered the phone and the lady at the front desk asked if this was Seth. I said that it was and she asked me to hang on, that there was someone here who wanted to speak to me. The voice said “Hi Seth-ro”. They obviously knew us… “We heard about your boat trouble, and wanted to make sure you guys were okay”. I had the voice narrowed down now, but it was so unlikely and out of place that my brain couldn’t lock onto an image… “now come down to the lobby right now”. The lobby? I knew who it was now, but when she said to come down to the lobby it left me even more confused than when I first answered. I hung up the phone, and Jaime asked who it was. I said “I think it was Ryleigh”. This is Jaime’s very good friend, so of course she immediately demanded to know why I just hung up on her. I said, “because I think they are downstairs”. They were!
These is the couple I mentioned a few days ago who were just married. We were bummed that we couldn’t be there and now they were in our lobby! They live over 5000 kilometers away (over 3000 miles) and had just flown all the way to Myrtle Beach. They rented a car and used the clues from the slaplogs to find us. Considering we didn’t name the marina, the hotel, or even the town we were staying in, this was nothing short of amazing! The hilarious thing about this story is that after they had just pulled off this incredible feat, they had no idea where their own hotel was! We drove around half the night looking for a hotel that started with a “C” near the beach. No phone number, no address. If you have ever been here, you would know why it’s not just called Myrtle. They put “Beach” in the name for a reason, because it’s huge! There are miles and miles of beach here, and the entire thing is lined with hotels. Eventually we found it though and just for the record, it started with a “B”! We stayed up most of the night catching up; there was a lot of ground to cover. Us with the boat, and them with the wedding. It was close to sunrise when fatigue (or beer) started to finally deteriorate the conversation. We crashed there and like I said, woke up with a headache.
Later on Dan and I power washed the boat and the girls went “shopping”. At least that’s what we were led to believe. They came back with tattoos. So with them freshly branded and us weary from our work in the boatyard, we finished the day(s) off early with some dinner. We insist upon only the finest in cuisine, and of course Poo’s would be tough to beat… so when we found this place we knew it was the one.
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Tomorrow Jaime and I will go to the boat yard early and touch up some of the bottom paint while it’s up on blocks. Hopefully within the next day or two we will be back in the water and on our way home to the marina. We are determined to leave on October 8th as planned, so need to get things back on track.
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August 2007 Vancouver to Florida
tuesday august 28,2007 (vancouver,bc)
Thanks for checking out our slaplogs. This is where we will keep you up to date on our progress (or lack thereof). We have a lot to tell, but no time to do it right now. 79 short hours separate us from the impending departure of our flight to Florida. The strange thing about that is that on one hand we wish there was more time to get everything done properly and see everyone before you leave, but on the other we can’t wait to get on with it and just want to leave right now! It kind of makes your head hurt, or maybe that’s from all the beer and wine that we’ve been drinking with our peeps during the daily “final farewells”. In any case, check back soon because as soon as we have some free time we’ll update this log and get you up to speed. Kay, gotta run; have to go see the banker now, and then the dentist, and then the landlady, and then there’s another final farewell, and then…. C’mon, no more “and then’s”!!
thursday august 30,2007 (vancouver,bc)
24 hours and counting! Over the coming weeks I will supply a series of posts to describe what we have been doing over the past several months give you an idea of how this trip has taken shape. In the meantime by way of a quick update, here is what we have done:
- Retired. Tomorrow is the official last day of work for both of us
- Sold a loft, working on selling Jaime’s condo, and rented out another
- Sold all of our possessions save the dive gear, this laptop and some clothes
- Racked up a combined total of 9 dentist visits; Jaime had 4 wisdom teeth pulled!
- Attended stag & stagette parties respectively. One in Vegas, one in Seattle (not ours)
- Booked the Florida flights, hotels, and cars
- Arranged showings for 6 potential slapdash boats from Florida to Maryland
- Hired a planner to take care of our investments
- Built this website
- Completed coastal navigation course
- Obtained dive master certifications to increase future employment opportunities
- Packed our bags… okay I lied. they’re not packed. I actually should be doing that right now, but it will get done tonight!
- Survive battery of inoculations, mentally prepare for second round of booster shots tomorrow
- Arrange mail forwarding
- Dozens of goodbye’s and farewells with our friends and families
And here’s what we have left to do:
- Pack (see I didn’t forget)
- Hand in keys, pass, credit card, laptop, blackberry and any other company owned materials to our respective employers
- Get apartment ready to pass inspection so that we can get our damage deposit back
- Get our good selves and what meager personal possessions remain from here to FL
- Find a boat
- Buy a boat
- Get that condo sold so we can pay for the boat! It’s got an ocean view
- Move onto boat
- Learn to sail boat
- Outfit said boat for world travel
It has been a bit of a roller coaster, and I know that the day that we reflect back on this week and laugh is not far off but for now I think I will just curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep… right after I finish packing that is! The next update will be posted from Florida though. There, I feel better already.
friday august 31,2007 (vancouver,bc)
“Fri-turday”
Our day started at 6:30 AM on Friday. We managed to get a good start on the packing and throwing stuff away (at least 4 trips to the dumpster) before Jaime had to go to work. I snapped a requisite “last day of work” picture as she was on the way out the door, and then got back to work. My mission was to pack only what we needed, throw anything else away, and get the apartment in ship shape in order to pass the landlady’s inspection so that we could get our damage deposit back. We have been renting this little furnished apartment since we sold the loft and most of our furniture a couple of months ago.
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I’m not sure how much real progress I had made by the time Jaime got home, but of course I made it sound like I had just climbed the North Face of Mt. Everest without supplementary oxygen. With Jaime there, things finally started to shape up and it started looking like we might actually make it to the travel clinic in time for our booster shots. We did, with help from her mom Laurell. She came and picked us up because we had sold all of our vehicles long ago. We would have never made it otherwise so we owe her one! After a quick jab in the arm for each of us and a lollipop for our troubles, I was back at the apartment dealing with the landlady, while Jaime and her Mom completed last minute errands (at least that’s what they said, but I couldn’t help but notice the Starbuck’s cups in the truck later, so I’m a little suspicious). By the time they returned from their critical “errands” our nine assorted boxes and bags were piled up in the parking spot and ready to go (I will pause to note here that most of these bags and boxes weighed about as much as any major kitchen appliance, and that we live on the 4th floor of a building with no elevator, and that I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and didn’t have any supplementary oxygen..)
By 6:30 we were somehow on our way to the airport with all nine kitchen appliances, I mean boxes. In between arriving and checking in we managed to encounter only 2 small emergencies; Laurell’s truck was rammed by a kamikaze baggage cart at full speed (not ours), and the bag containing all of our cash, passports, my wallet and birth certificate went “missing”. Both potential catastrophes were resolved quickly; the kamikaze cart driver (he was literally sprinting at full speed with this cart, what an idiot!!) paid in cash for the damage to her truck, and the bag was found after only a few minutes or sheep panic. It was buried safely in the mountainous pile made up of our bags the whole time. Sweating and near breakdown we managed to get our bags and ourselves safely checked in so that we could enjoy our first real meal of the day and some goodbye beers with Laurell, and our good friends Dan and Ryleigh who came out to see us off. We couldn’t have asked for a better send off. We laughed until our jaws hurt, took lots of silly pictures, pissed of the serving staff at Montana’s (mostly Ryleigh’s doing), said lots of nice things to each other that made us all cry. We finally went through security at 10:35PM just in time for our 10:55 PM departure.
This post is called “Friturday” for a reason. We were probably about 40,000 feet over Calgary traveling at 575 MPH when the “Fri” part ended and the “turday” part kicked in. We didn’t get much sleep on that flight, okay we didn’t get any sleep, but arrived safely in Toronto “turday” morning and amazingly were reunited with 9 un-pilfered bags. This is the fun part, navigating your way through Pearson airport on a Saturday morning with more bags than you can pile onto 2 baggage carts (which we somehow managed to avoid ramming into parked cars at full speed) after you have been deprived of sleep for 21 hours. All I really remember is the massive customs line-up, begging the lady at security to not make me open the “zip tied, and quadruple taped” boxes we had packed, and the last hour of our 4 hour layover when Jaime had stretched out on the floor to sleep, and my own head was nodding up and down, in and out of consciousness, like a yo-yo on a string. We must have been quite the sight. We didn’t sleep through the boarding call and were soon safely on board ready to enjoy our 3 hour flight from Toronto to Fort Myers.
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