Leg 2 - The Western Caribbean; Panama to Key West
On Saturday, June 12, after a successful transit of the Panama Canal, Nick and Steve set off at 0730 into the Caribbean Sea, North by Northwest. Our destination is Isla Providencia, approximately 260 miles away and about 100 miles east of Honduras, but this island is a part of Columbia. We cleared out of the canal zone by calling 'Cristobol Station' and requesting permission to leave. "Be advised of the traffic" was the only response, which turned out to be good advise as we dodged the dozens of tankers and freighters milling about in the area, waiting for their turn to transit the canal to the Pacific. The 'Rules of the Road' don't matter much, it is more a case of 'Might is Right'. After a couple of hours of trying not to get run over, we were finally in clear waters in a moderate breeze off the starboard bow forcing us to sail 10 degrees to port more than we would like, but at least we are sailing!
The first day was pretty uneventful, as it takes us the first day just to get into some type of routine where you don't just sleep and stand watch. The winds and seas remained moderate, and after leaving the canal zone, we saw only 1 other boat on this transit. During the night, where there was no moon and little wind, we motored most of the time. At least the batteries get charged. With no moon and cloud cover, everything is so black you can't see the water, and you can't see any kind of horizon - it is all black. It is hard to get used to, especially with wind and waves buffeting you about without warning.
The morning of the 13th came with little change, except the seas steepened a bit, and the wind picked-up during the afternoon. We were able to shut down the engine, and sail for real around 1600. With wind in the 15 - 20 knot range, we were able to make 6 - 7 knots close-hauled and with seas hitting our starboard beam. As the night progressed, the wind increased and so did the waves, and we decided to reef the main and partially furl the jib. The seas began breaking occasionally, and when they hit the hull, would splash up on the deck, gutting us wet and always catching us with a deck hatch open to try and dry something out and let a little breeze below decks. Did I mention that it is hot?
Under greatly reduced sail, we still made 7 knots in the building conditions, comforted by the knowledge that we were making good time towards our destination. The no moon blackness is more difficult to cope with when you are being banged about. The winds topped at 33 knots, but with the dawn, diminished to a more manageable 20.
Anchorage at Isla Providencia
No worse for our wear, we sailed into the lee of Isla Providencia at 0700 on June 14th, cutting the waves down to pint size and the wind to 15. We stayed 3 miles offshore, as there are reefs everywhere (hey, we're in the Caribbean!), but even so the water depth got as shallow as 7 feet below our keels! The water is such a clear blue, that you could easily see the coral we were sailing over - and we quickly altered course for deeper water! After finding the sea buoy that marks the only safe channel into the harbor, we entered and contacted Bush's Agency for their assistance in clearing in. After setting anchor in 10 feet of clear water, the boarding party arrived about an hour later. The Port Captain and Immigration made short work of the forms and such, and without so much as a dollar changing hands, welcomed us to Columbia, and left our boat. We dinghied ashore, and found that it is some holiday, so the bank is closed, and people don't take dollars here. We did get a store to exchange some dollars for Columbian Pesos, but at a terrible exchange rate. We ate lunch as some cafe full of flies, but the food was okay, and the price was even better. We then rented a scooter for 2 hours at $4 per hour, and drove twice around the island (it's a small island). Steve gave Nick scooter lessons, and it wasn't long before he was handling it like a pro. On our last lap around the island, it started raining, and we remembered that we left all our hatches open, so we returned the scooter and dinghied back to our boat just about the time the wind stopped. Nick played Nintendo, and Steve worked on the webpage.
Nick on the road around the island
We returned to town that evening, hoping that the holiday might bring the locals out in force at the central area of town, but alas, almost everything was closed, and the streets were nearly bare. The clearance agent, from the 2nd floor of his home, saw us wandering the streets, and called to us. We asked if there was anyplace to get ice cream, and he pointed to the house across the road that we were standing in front of. Confused and timid, we asked the man in the front yard if he had ice cream, and he motioned for us to sit at some poorly handmade stools around a goofy 'bar' of wood covered in ceramic tile at the side of his yard. He disappeared, but soon returned with two plastic cups with some type of chocolate chip ice cream (we weren't quite sure of the flavor), but it tasted okay. Nick had seconds. While we ate, it rained heavily for 10 minutes, then stopped. We wandered back to our dinghy and then the boat, where we watched part of the movie "Gods and Generals", a story about the Civil War from the Confederacy's perspective.
On the 15th, we went to the bank, but there was a very long line there, so we just exchanged some more money at the grocery store, taking a 10% loss in the exchange. We filled our water jugs, and put them back on the dinghy, and took our diesel jugs to a different grocery store to rent scooters - one apiece - for getting diesel on the far side of the island. We figured a way to sling the jugs like saddlebags, and off we went. After getting the fuel and taking them back to the boat, we went riding around the island and stopped at a restaurant about 3 miles away to have lunch. It was a nice place overlooking the harbor, and was a part of a hotel that looked like it must be the off-season, as we were the only one's there. The offered us eggs or sausage, and we chose the sausage. But when it arrived, we each had what looked and tasted like two hot-dogs without buns, and some kind of fruit we didn't recognize. The fact that they tasted like regular hot dogs was surprisingly good news - a sad statement about the quality of food here.
After about 3 hours of cruising the back roads of this small island, we returned the scooters without incident - except that both Nick and Steve burned their legs on the exhaust pipes. They are bad enough that when we go home in 2 months, people will still be able to see our battle wounds. Unfortunately, during the transporting of jugs in the dinghy, the digital camera got wet, and looks to be a total loss. After multiple dunkings over the past year, the poor thing just couldn't handle another one. So, it looks like no pictures until we reach civilization and get a new camera. We returned to the boat where Steve changed the oil in the engine, spraying oil all over the engine compartment due to equipment failure - not operator error! Nick practiced his guitar, and together they made peanut butter cookies When both were completed, we went to the grocery store and got supplies, limited though they be, and went to the local telephone store to make a call to home. However, the gal there didn't actually know how to call the US in practice, only in theory, and the theory didn't work. Sorry, honey, maybe in the next town. Nick and Steve played some James Bond game, and sat in the cockpit discussing high school, our next boat (nick's party barge), girls, and motorcycles while Steve worried about dragging the anchor and dying a bloody death. The winds were howling through the rigging, as the boat who had set anchor at only 100 feet in front of us seemed to continue its crawl, determined to come crashing into us. The water being only 7 feet deep, enforced the threat of ending up on the rocks if our own anchor failed us. We had extra lines out to help prevent chafing, but you never can be too sure. All of this, while knowing that our insurance didn't cover Isla Providencia, the small island we were on.
On the 16th, we went into town to meet with our agent to clear out tomorrow, and hit the grocery store one last time. We went to the internet store, and among other things, found that Nick had gotten much better grades during his last quarter of school. He selected a scooter ride as his reward, so he took a solo ride for an hour around the island twice. We returned to the boat and spent an hour cleaning the hull bottom, but Nick had to quit early as his burn began to sting too bad in the salt water. We plan to spend the remainder of the day clearing out with the Port Captain, Immigration, and preparing the boat for departure tomorrow morning, probably heading for Cozumel, 530 miles and 4 days away.
We have arrived at Isla Mujeres (pronounced 'moo HAIR ays'; I'm working on it) on June 20, 2004, and will recap our adventures over the past few days.
After meeting with our agent and Immigration to clear out of Columbia, we spent about an hour to do 5 minutes worth of internet work uploading our webpage, because the only internet place in town is a 14.4 dial-up connection with 4 computers working off of it. We mad a final pitstop at one of the grocery stores, and bought out their supply of Diet Coke and Orange Crush, as well as some pinto beans for more 'chili stuff' to be made with scraps from our cupboards, and headed back to the boat. We got everything ready to go, cleaned up our quarters, and played Nintendo until we went to bed early.
We awoke on Thursday the 17th at 0630, weighed anchor, called the agent via VHF to inform him of our departure, and headed NNW for Cozumel, 530 miles and 4 days away across open ocean and through the hurricane zone. The winds were brisk at 20 knots from the NE, seas moderate at 8', and we were cooking along at 8 knots - the best sustained speeds of our entire adventure. After about 3 hours, the winds began to build, as did the seas, and before long we put a double reef in our mainsail, and were regularly taking water over our bow and into the cockpit. These conditions remained in place for about 30 hours, the winds topping out at 38 and the seas at 12' - we were never in any danger, just discomfort as we continued to get wet from time to time, and it gets old getting covered in salt water repeatedly. The water kind of evaporates, but the salt remains, only to be added to by the next breaking wave. The temperature was nice though, and we were never really cold or hot, just wet and sticky and really yucky feeling. We went through a lot of changes of clothing, and it began to stink below as we couldn't open the hatches at all, and all our wet clothing kept getting deposited somewhere below to 'dry'. Add to this a phenomenon that I will call 'first day blues', where all you can think about is the wind, waves, water, fighting off seasickness, sleeping, and dreading your next shift. You have no desire to read, watch a movie, play games, or even talk unless necessary. Being wet and tired is no fun, and you spend most of your time looking at the breaking seas wondering why you have chosen to pursue this kind of 'fun'. To top it off, this batch of chili turned out to be a bland dud, as we lacked the ingredients (like enchilada sauce and stewed tomatoes) to make it tasty. Steve dutifully ate his for dinner; Nick tried it, and opted for potato chips instead. As the night began, and the wind continued unabated, we sailed through a shoal (shallow) area full of reefs, Steve carefully plotting the course through the blind, moonless night. Dang, I wish I had bought more and better detailed charts! "Sail to such and such coordinates, turn port to bearing 265, then 8 miles to other coordinates where we turn starboard to 310, and so on. This in waters only 40 feet deep, but still 70 miles from any land, and the seas pounding their unmerciful beat against the hull. It felt like the movie "Hunt for Red October" where they piloted their submarine through a subterranean channel, narrowly missing the walls. Steve tried to explain to Nick the significance of the endeavor, reminding him of the location of the liferaft and what to do in the event of a grounding, but was met with the disconcern that goes with a young man of 14, or a sailor too tired to care. In the end, we made it without mishap, so maybe Nick was right to be so cavalier.
During the morning of the 18th, the wind subsided to around 20 knots, the seas lessened and quit breaking, and after taking a shower, Steve felt a lot more himself. We shook out the reef in the main, and continued to make 8 knots, increasingly helped by a NW current known as the Gulf Stream. Hey, we're sailing in the Gulf Stream! It dawned on us that we were sailing in the waters and routes that Columbus sailed over 500 years ago; many of the islands and prominent landmarks being named by him. Well, at least one of us was impressed by this revelation, and the significance of the undertaking. Nick and Steve resumed conversations of things other than sailing, and it appeared we have passed through the 'first day blues'. As the day wore on, the wind and seas diminished, and unless we wanted to make this passage take 4 nights instead of 3, we needed to run the engine. We played some Nintendo, and watched the second installment of "Gods and Generals". The nights on this passage were particularly irritating because there was almost no moon at all. Only on the 3rd night did we see it, and only as a new moon for an hour after sunset. It is disconcerting to have your boat impacted by the unseen waves. It is somewhat like sailing in an isolation chamber where coupled with fatigue, we have some minor hallucinations. The boat felt like it is always turning to the right, the only reassurance being the compass, which never seemed to change. Steve once thought his alarm clock must have fallen somehow into the water, because he could hear it ringing behind the boat, and he watched over the stern into the black water where the ringing grew more and more faint as the clock settled to the bottom of the sea. Oops, did I say that out loud?
The dawn of the 19th brought even less wind, and the seas were in the 3' range. We continued motorsailing in the empty sea, but finally saw another boat on the starboard horizon. We are not alone in this world! Nick resumed his pursuit of perfection playing a skateboard game on the Nintendo, and Steve read cruising guides, where he evaluated his current course towards the island of Cozumel. It appeared that Isla Mujeres had more facilities for boaters, and was much closer to the large town of Cancun. So after a little discussion with Nick, it was decided to alter course a few degrees to starboard and head for Isla Mujeres, adding 40 miles to this passage. As the seas were fairly calm, we watched the conclusion of the movie "Gods and Generals", and played some Nintendo together. We also talked quite a bit more this day about various guy things.
The 20th began with us within striking distance of Isla Mujeres, and we saw a few more boats in the distance. A Black Marlin was jumping out of the water over and over again, and prompted us to put a rod in the water, which quickly yielded something that looked like the dreaded Skipjack, but was a little different. So we filleted it and stuck the meat in the freezer for later. The winds and seas were quite light, and we had to put some more revs on the motor to keep up our anticipated arrival time. Finally, at 1045, Nick yelled "Land Ho", as the tall buildings of Cancun rose in the distance. Two hours later, we were avoiding more reefs in less than 10 feet of water, finally to pull into the 'Club de Yates' marina, where we temporarily tied-up to the fuel dock to find out about a slip. Finding no one that spoke English, Steve read that the slip rates would be about $60 per day - outrageous for these rickety, crude wooden pilings of a marina. There are two newer, nicer marinas in the bay, but both of which are further away from the town, are probably more expensive, and would require a taxi ride. So we decided to go where the poor folk are, and anchor out. We got our clearance paperwork together, and set off to find the Port Captain, but their offices were closed, this being Sunday and all. So, we wandered the town, happy to see that all manner of scooter, motorcycle and golf cart were for rent on just about every block. We got some lunch at a nice-looking restaurant, and we genuinely enjoyed our meal! So much so we vowed to come back for dinner. We then went to an internet cafe that was air conditioned (yes, it's hot), and spent a couple of hours reading and answering email on some of the fastest computers we have seen on this trip - what a pleasure. We picked up sodas from the grocery store, and headed back to the boat to update the webpage and check to see why one of our solar panels shorted out the system a couple of days back. At 2000, we decided to break for dinner, and went back to the same restaurant where Nick had lobster and Steve had pork chops. We called home and talked to Leslie, Katie, and Steve's sister Ginger - yes, we all miss each other. Steve and Leslie made an appointment to talk again on Wednesday, and Steve was wished a Happy Father's Day. We wondered the town a bit, and went back to the boat to put on the finishing touches to this entry. Steve opened the Father's Day Cards that his family gave him before he left, and got just a little bit more homesick for his wife and daughter. This was just another of Leslie's thoughtful touches.
On June 21, Steve went to the Port Captain's office to be told that since his clearance papers from Isla Providencia were for Key West (done intentionally because we didn't know exactly where our next port would be, a common practice) we couldn't stay here in Isla Mujeres. Steve applied his best logic for why they had to stop here - fatigue, equipment failure, lack of fuel, crew injury - but nothing worked. Then the begging began, and it wasn't pretty. The Port Captain countered that it would take him all day to do the paperwork to allow them to stay. Then the light went on: He wanted money. Steve however, being a cheap as he is, wasn't licked yet. He asked to talk to the man's supervisor, and after a surprisingly short conversation, was given permission to stay just long enough to make the necessary repairs to our vessel, and then we would have to be on our way. So, after a stop at the copy store, Immigration, Agriculture, Sanitation, the bank, back to the Port Captain, come back in 2 hours, back at the Port Captain, wait an hour, and paying everyone $70 total, we were legal. Steve's Spanish is improving marginally.
Nick and Steve caught a ferry to the mainland and Cancun, where they immediately went to Wal-Mart to look for a new camera and other supplies, and to have lunch at their McDonalds. We hired a taxi by the hour, and after visiting 6 camera store, couldn't find the exact one we wanted, and settled on one from Office Depot. Nick also got a new backpack, and we bought a USB drive to transfer our web files easier between our two computers and the ones at the internet cafes, and more duct tape. We found a movie theater, and watched "The Day After Tomorrow", or something like that, where the world enters a new ice age. It was pretty good. We caught a taxi back to the ferry, and went back to our island and our boat. However, within minutes of our arrival, we were greeted by a Mexican Navy boat loaded with automatic weapons and a drug sniffing dog. These guys didn't speak any English, and our electronic Spanish/English dictionary came into active service. After about 15 minutes of interrogation, another officer arrived and began the process of reviewing our papers and asking questions again, the two officers seeming to try to outdo each other with their penetrating questions. After all the forms were filled out, and they ran out of questions, they let the dog loose, and damned if it didn't find our cocaine stash in my sock drawer! Stupid dog.
Steve being interrogated by the Mexican Navy Drug-sniffing dog and enforcers
Okay, not really. I hid the coke in the toolbox, and they never found it! Okay, we don't have any cocaine, but the Navy guys seemed a little disappointed to have wasted their time, and I began to wish we had some so they could justify their existence. In the end, they shook Steve's hand, and drove off into the night. Steve and Nick went ashore and found a new place for dinner, where they had enchiladas and fajitas, and had 'two for one' beers and Black Russians. Boy, the tourist girls walking by sure got pretty as the night progressed. We wandered back to our dinghy, and returned to the boat and went to bed after a pretty eventful day.
Nick & Steve enjoying the good life The main tourist-shop area
The 22nd began with Steve installing the new camera software, and updating our webpage. Nick played on his Nintendo, admired his new backpack, and epoxy repaired his knife that was falling apart. They went into town and rented a golf cart for a day, and began an exploration of the island that turned into marathon driver's training for Nick as well. At the far end of the island, we stopped at a cafe that overlooked a garden of modern sculptures the adorned the tip of the island. The view was really incredible, but it is sad that we are becoming somewhat saturated with beautiful views and breathtaking vistas, and we take them for granted. Some of the houses on this island would put those on the Pebble Beach 17-Mile Drive to shame, as the architecture is truly unique. But next to these stunning homes are some of homes of the working class, and to call the shacks would be an overstatement. This island is unique in Mexico in that it is affluent enough that there are almost no beggars, and the towns are pretty clean of the garbage strewn around the majority of the country. Even so, some of it's residents live in depressing poverty. In some ways, we are embarrassed by our wealth, and more so that we take that wealth for granted.
Isla Mujeres reef area with zipline platforms
Modern sculptures at the island's head Conch-shaped house
We took a break from driving after a few hours, and made a trip to the fuel dock to get diesel and water for the boat. We also made our pilgrimage to the internet cafe to check our email and such. We drove around on-and-off until about 2130, giving Nick some night driving practice as well. This is a good venue for this training, as the traffic is fairly light and relatively slow, and Nick did a great job being aware of his surroundings and the unpredictability of other drivers, pedestrians, and various giant lizards that would cross the road somewhat like squirrels do in California. We ate dinner again in the area of maximum tourist shops, and are continuing to be pleased with the food available in this town - much more to the liking of our narrowly defined palettes. We returned to the boat with just enough energy for 30 minutes of Nintendo, and then hit the sack. As with most nights, it rained a little bit, and we have taken to closing all the hatches before we turn in, except the ones over our beds which we close as soon as the raindrops hit us. Another problem at night is the flies and mosquitoes, and we have to close our bedroom doors and put screens on our hatches. Nick bought some maximum-strength outdoor Raid that he uses to fumigate his room just before he turns in. Steve hunts them down and kills them the old fashioned way - squish.
Wednesday, June 23rd, we took a ferry to Cancun, and a taxi to a boat part store to find a replacement for our starboard navigation light that had rusted out during the trip to here. We found something close, and were able to use parts from the old and the new to make something that would work. We had lunch at a mall called 'Plaza de Americas', which is very similar to a new mall in the States. We had lunch at Pizza Hut, and watched the movie 'The Punisher', before returning to Isla Mujeres in the late afternoon. After stopping at the grocery store for provisions (sodas), we had dinner on the boat. Steve installed the new light, and performed various other boat repairs and maintenance while Nick played Nintendo. We went into town at 2100 to make a scheduled phone call to Leslie and Katie. They have several types of phones here, and several different phone cards, each working differently on each phone. After about a half-hour of trying to get our phone to work, we asked a local for help, and he found a proper phone and punched in about 30 digits before we entered our home phone number. It was difficult having a conversation, as the traffic noise is loud and the phone volume is low, or maybe Steve's hearing just isn't what it used to be. Anyway, it was good to hear their voices, but the content of the conversation was strained. We returned to the boat for more Nintendo, and then hit the sack.
The 24th began with Steve going into the Port Captain to clear out, a day before as directed previously. He required us to pay an extra $10 for not having to go to Cancun to pay the bank their clearance fees - this guy was bound and determined to extort money from me, and muttering "Only in Mexico", Steve paid him. Steve was then directed to go Immigration to get the passports and clearance papers stamped, and they indicated that we could no longer be on Mexican soil, and must leave immediately. When I explained that the Port Captain requires us to clear out a day in advance of our departure, he re-emphasized that if we do not leave immediately, we are illegally in Mexico. When I returned to the Port Captain with the stamped paperwork, I told him what Immigration said, and he said "Don't worry about it." Nick in the meantime got our last jugs of diesel for the boat and gas for the dinghy, and we went to the internet cafe to get air-conditioned, and then a cafe for a light lunch. We returned to the boat where Nick did some cleaning and played Nintendo, while Steve continued boat jobs and updating the webpage. In mid afternoon, we went to a nearby boat that was so interesting we asked for a tour, and were graciously asked aboard. The couple were from Germany, about 60, and lived on their boat traveling between here and Guatemala each year for the last few years. Then we went snorkeling at some nearby reefs, and found what you would expect - exotic fishes, beautiful and varied coral formations, and interesting crustaceans. Nick found a conch shell in great shape, with the conch-animal still living inside. Steve picked up a small piece of dislodged coral, and we returned to the boat after a couple of hours of the incredible, vacation commercial-type experience. Upon returning to the boat, we took showers, and Steve updated the webpage while Nick cleaned his new treasures. Tonight, we plan to eat our farewell dinner, get more sodas, and Nick wants to buy some souvenirs for his friends. Then we plan to turn-in early to get a early start tomorrow morning for Key West, where we should arrive, weather permitting, very late on Sunday the 27th. This will be the last significant stretch of open water we will be passing through, and although no hurricanes are projected, thunderstorms and squalls are unavoidable this time of year.
Steve mesmerized by Nintendo Nick cleaning his Catch of the Day
The following record of the 25th of June is in great detail as we wanted to capture the minutia for at least one day on this voyage:
0645: Sleeping through his alarm, Steve wakes, starts the engine, and removed the sail cover from the mainsail. He reviews the charts and cruising guides for the area and plots his intended course out of the reefs and then Northeast the 340 miles to Key West.
0700: Steve wakes Nick, who hoists the anchor, and we begin to motor out of the bay under clear skies. Nick goes back to bed.
0730: We clear the island's reefs and rocks, and we continue motoring at 5 knots at 2,000 rpm on course 055 for Key West. The wind is coming from 070 at 15 knots, waves from same at 5'.
0800: We are overtaken by a sportfishing boat making 15 knots - as it is arriving, there is always a bit of anxiety that they are coming to rob our boat or worse, and we always watch them closely in our binoculars trying to discern their intentions. At this speed we won't reach Key West by sunset on the 27th, so we increase our speed to 5.5 knots at 2,500 rpm (2,800 is max).
0815: Steve remembers his seasick pills and takes one, and wakes Nick to give him his.
0910: 3 dolphins swim with our boat for 5 minutes. We are 10 miles offshore, the water is only 80' deep and clear blue.
1000: Wind is 20 knots from 090, and Steve removes the sail ties and hoists the mainsail. He attempts to unfurl the jib, but the furling line is knotted and takes a while to clear. The wind is so strong that Steve can't trim the jib as tight as necessary to sail close-hauled, so he luffs the jib briefly to really crank down on the port jibsheet winch. He climbs up on the cabintop to ease the topping lift, and then eats some peanuts for breakfast. Course is 040 making 7 knots, but only 6 knots towards our intended destination at bearing 055.
1030: The seas are confused, and the boat is jumping every-which direction. The bow rises on the waves and suddenly plunges. The bridgedeck (the part in between the hulls) pounds the water and sounds like we hit another boat, then is buried in the waves, and the deck is awash. This cycle repeats about twice a minute. It's not scary, just really noisy and wet, but over time it becomes really irritating especially because you can't sleep (unless you are Nick) or do anything else because of the noise and violent movements of the boat.
1120: Nick wakes and lays down in the cockpit; nothing is spoken. Steve puts on his shoes, as he doesn't want sunburned feet again.
1130: Nick falls asleep in the cockpit. Steve gets tired of the barbeque lid coming off and clanging, so he removes it from the rail and lays it in the cockpit. We finally get away from the adverse current, and are making 9 knots, but our course will take us 100 miles away from where we want to be. We hope the wind will shift, but if not we will have to begin tacking at some point.
1200: Small crashes from below decks sound different than the regular huge crashing, and a quick investigation shows that our acrylic glasses have been thrown from their shelves, and around the salon. Steve picks them up, and puts them back on their shelf, but laying down this time.
1215: Nick awakes only long enough to go back to his bedroom to sleep. Wind is still 20 knots, we are making 9 but only 7 towards our goal, our course is 025, and the seas are becoming a little more organized. Steve checks the fuel, and sees that the fuel gauge is reading empty - so either it is broken, or we have a bad leak. A check of the tank says we have fuel.
1235: A huge cruise ship passes behind us 8 miles bearing 010, somewhere in Texas.
1250: Steve emails Leslie "I love you very much".
1300: As the lee telltale on the jib is luffing, he adjust the autopilot for 5 degrees to starboard. Flying fish are everywhere, and they constantly are jumping out of the water and flying away from our boat, sometimes dozens at a time.
1350: Steve kills the engine to save fuel, as we don't have enough to motor the whole way, but we are now only making 7 knots, 5 towards our goal. The stink from the conch Nick caught is getting stronger, so Steve digs him out of the shell and tosses it overboard. He cleans the shell, and places it in the cockpit to dry.
1405: Steve heats up some refried beans, adds cheese and salsa, and has tortilla chips for lunch.
1415: Nick wakes, and eats some chips and dip. Although he acts grumpy, he says he isn't sick. With a slight wind shift, we adjust course 10 degrees to starboard. Nick and Steve talk about various things, including that we need to eat the fish we caught a few days ago.
1435: The wind is now 14 knots bearing 110, our speed is only 4.5 knots, the seas are 7' from 110. We restart the engine and are doing 7 knots at 1500 rpm, course 055.
1445: Nick plays Nintendo.
1450: Steve changes the garbage bag, and increases the engine speed to 1900 rpm to make 6 knots.
1530: Nick takes a turn on watch, and Steve takes a nap.
1600: Nick passes through a shipping lane, crossing the paths of 2 freighters and 2 tankers.
1630: Nick listens to music on his computer.
1730: Nick listens to music on his MP3 player.
1750: Nick furls the jib as there is no wind, and adjust our course to 060 - straight for Key West.
1810: Steve wakes and resumes his watch. He adjusts course 5 degrees to port to bearing 058. The winds are 2 knots and waves are 5', both from 080. Nick puts two hot dogs in the oven.
1825: Nick eats his hot dogs without buns. The skies are hazy, but have been partly cloudy all day.
1830: Nick begins mixing up some brownies, followed by Steve cooking them in the oven.
1845: Nick plays Nintendo. to 1925.
1900: Steve begins repair of the fuel gauge sending unit, and completes this in a half hour.
1930: The brownies are done, and they turned out pretty good.
Calm sea and no wind as the day ends
1935: The wind picked-up to 7 knots, so we unfurled the jib, adjusted course, and began making 6 knots bearing 080 with seas at 5'. We ate brownies.
1950: We turn on our navigation lights, and see lightning 10 miles ahead 10 degrees to starboard.
2000: Nick continues to play Nintendo, and Steve does the dishes.
2015: The thunderstorm is now on our radar at 6 miles bearing 080 and moving towards us. We adjust course 40 degrees to port to avoid. We furl the jib.
2030: The wind has increased to 15 knots, and under full main only and engine we are making 7 knots due North to avoid the storm, now 2 miles away, but it looks like we may outrun it as it is passing behind us.
2035: Wind now 30 knots, and we are making 9 knots still trying to outrun it, but it is starting to rain a little. The temperature dropped at least 20 degrees, like someone just turned on the air conditioning. We have never felt anything quite like it - it was physically and emotionally chilling.
2040: Wind now 40 knots, we are making 10, but the thought of outrunning it has ended, as the rain is heavy and the wind is increasing. Lightning is everywhere, which at least you can see what is around you for a half second, since the clouds have blocked our little bit of moonlight.
2045: Wind 50 knots, we turn to course 070 to face the wind and waves, as it has become too dangerous to try and run with our full main up. We put the engine to 2800 just to maintain steerage, making only 1 to 2 knots in the face of the wind.
2050 Windmeter reads 99.9 knots, but it is certainly not more than 60. A rivet fails on a bimini support pole, and Steve moves to try and secure it's flailing about. Just then, a deafening roar comes from the front of the boat at the jib begins to unfurl, flapping madly in the wind. Nick had neglected to cleat the furling line, and the sail was now all out, tearing itself to shreds. The jib sheets, although stopper knotted, had pulled through the fairleads and were now lashing everything on the boat like two whips. Nick and Steve grabbed the furling line to pull it in, but the wind was too strong, even with both pulling. Steve rigged the line around a jibsheet winch, and started cranking it in slowly. It took about 2 minutes, and we couldn't furl it all the way because there aren't enough wraps on the furling drum to wrap the sail in high winds like this, so the last 15% of the sail still flapped wildly in the wind, but this is the best we can do. Nick confirmed that he will always cleat the furling line in the future.
2100: Steve jury-rigs bungee cords around the broken bimini pole and a lifeline, at least keeping the assembly from bucking around and causing other failures. When he is finished and turns to the storm, he realizes he has lost his glasses and can't see. Fortunately, some searching found them still to be on board lying amongst the pile of furling line next to the cockpit. Looking around, Steve wondered if he were better off not seeing. The waves were crashing over the boat, winds still in excess of 50, lighting everywhere, and the radar indicated we are right in the middle of the storm. Hmm, sounds like a good time for life jackets, so we put them on. We put a 2nd reef in the mainsail.
2115: Conditions unchanged, and fortunately the autopilot was able to maintain our course. Nick announced that he was going to sleep - the guy is impressive. However, I think that it may be some phenomenon that occurs when a body is overwhelmed, it wants to shut down. I'll need to consult with Leslie on this.
2145: The winds are slowly diminishing, and we are down to about 40 knots. Steve begins to relax a little, but that jib is still flapping badly on the front of the boat.
2205: Winds down to 30 knots, and Steve decides it is time for a jib rescue operation. He puts on a harness and lanyard, and wakes up Nick. Slowly walking to the front of the boat, timing each step with the rise and fall of the bow, Steve ties on to a intermediate headstay, and begins working on the spaghetti made by the two 35' long jibsheets that have become unbelievably intertwined. Holding a flashlight in his mouth, he worked for about 15 minutes, deck awash in seas, and was able to finally carry the sheets to their winches in the cockpit. We unfurled the jib just long enough to refurl it properly, finally eliminating at least one noise, and saving the jib from further damage.
2225: Nick goes back to sleep. The rain has stopped.
2245: Nick sleepwalks to the cockpit doorway, Steve says "Are you looking for something?", and Nick returns to bed. This is normal at home, but I have never seen it happen on the boat.
2255: Winds down to 25 knots, so Steve unfurls the jib and sets course of 085 making 5.5 knots, 4.5 towards our goal. The waves are impeding our progress, as each time the bow plunges into a wave, it slows us down by 2 knots. About the time we get back up to speed, it happens again. We are also experiencing a 1 to 2 knot counter current. So, even with good wind and engine at full power, we can only make slow progress.
0000, June 26th: Steve eats a banana, but it tastes terrible, just like Nick said they did a day ago. So, he ate some tortilla chip for dinner. Still doing 4.5 knots on course 090, 30 degrees from our desired course. We are only making 3.5 knots towards our goal. We have used up 1/3 of our fuel, and have only made 70 miles of progress - about 1/5th of the way. With the wind, waves and the counter current on the nose there is no way to make progress without the engine, so Steve reviews the charts for a possible stop in Cuba for refueling. The other alternative is just sail the best we can without the engine, and hope that sooner or later the wind shifts before another storm hits. Or a hurricane. Crap.
0030: Radar contact bearing 180 at 10 miles. Slight wind shift, so Steve adjusts course 5 degrees to port making 7.5 knots, 4.5 to goal, in 18 knots winds from 045. Our course is 090, and the waves are 8' from 090, and the bow is still plunging.
0105: The radar contact is a cruise ship bearing 170 at 7 miles.
0140: The cruise ship passes our bow at 4 miles. Steve takes the reef out of the main, and is now under full sail. The lighting is less, and we are making 8.5 knots, 5.5 to goal, in 18 knot winds bearing 055. The seas are 6' at 090. Our course is 090 - straight for Havana, Cuba.
0200: Steve wakes Nick and asks him to take a watch.
0300: Steve resumes watch, and tacks to port bearing 000. Nick goes back to bed.
0445: Nick wakes up, and takes the watch through daybreak, with no noteworthy events. Steve sleeps until 0800. Thus ends the detailed chronology of a day in the life at sea.
The rest of the passage to Key West was similar, except that we encountered no further storms. We successfully avoided a couple, but the wind never went above 25 knots for the remainder of the passage. The wind stayed on the nose the whole way, but the current abated, and at some times even helped, allowing us to regain confidence that we can make it without refueling. We were able to sail alone through much of it, but the plan of arriving before nightfall on the 27th was out the window. We tacked between 010 and 100, playing the wind shifts as much as possible, but the waves never diminished appreciably, constantly breaking on the bow and keeping us wet through most of the way. Steve cooked mashed potatoes and gravy on the night of the 27th, but the rest of the time they just ate chips, peanuts, brownies, and other easy items.
Steve sleeps in the cockpit at sea
On the 27th, we approached Dry Tortugas, the westernmost island in the Florida Keys. Steve considered stopping there, but there are no provisions and the anchorage is poor, so he decided to keep going the 70 miles to Key West. However, reaching this area was a milestone in that the water depth diminished to under 100 feet, and the waves diminished as well to less than 5'. Steve studied the charts and found a 'short cut' through the reefs to Key West, which had the added benefit of keeping the waves down. So, at 1500 on the Sunday the 27th, we turned due east with the wind still on the nose, and furled the jib and brought down the main, crashing directly into the small but steep waves for a straight shot the remaining 60 miles to Key West. It was a bit wet, but the most comfortable we have been in 2 days. At 1800, our autopilot failed. Nick hand steered while Steve discovered that a bushing had frozen, making the motor work so hard that it finally burned itself out. Steve grabbed the motor housing unknowingly, and was instantly burned on his fingers and palm. It turned out that when the bushing had failed, it took many other components with it, and Steve was fixing one thing to only fix another. Working without proper tools in the pitching boat was another challenge, but when Steve found that he had no solder for his propane-powered soldering iron, there was no hope in completing the fix at sea, at least not in these conditions. So, Steve made dinner, and they took turns steering the remaining 8 hours to the anchorage.
Shortly after midnight on the morning of the 28th, we were within 5 miles of our anchorage, but were navigating into a very busy harbor with lots of obstacles. Nick was at the helm, and Steve was going between the radar display, the charts, GPS, and the bow with a spotlight, trying to navigate a course to safety. For the first time, we really appreciated having radar, as it picked up many things that we might have otherwise bumped into in the blackness. Steve called the Coast Guard just to let them know we were arriving, and about 10 minutes later were boarded by 2 Coast Guard Customs officers, who searched the boat fairly well. They checked our papers, and provided us with some good information on where to anchor, and at 0200, we set the hook. We then called the Customs office on Nick's cell phone that had come to life, and after 25 minutes of giving them information, were allowed to go to sleep for the next 10 hours, therein ending leg 2 of this adventure.