26 Hours At Sea

A different kind of spotted dolphin

Ok, I will admit it. There was a time when the Bear and I would plan an overnighter for a few days then just do it. We knew that it would be a long day when the winds were forecast to be east at 10 to 15 knots dropping after midnight to 5 knots. Thursday, Bear and I staged Why Knot to Dog Island to save a few miles on our departure. At 0755 Friday, we had WK ready and we hauled up the anchor bound for Tarpon Springs to the south of us some 140 nautical miles. We made the sea buoy just south of Carrabelle by 0955 where we encountered a lively East breeze.  We turned off the engine and enjoyed a beating such that we have not had in some time.  Said beating was in good seas of about five to six feet in threes (they came three at a time about 4 seconds apart).  We were rocking an rolling.  Even Bear started to feel the effects of having to make a trip below.  I can always tell, even if she denies it, when she is not enjoying the present.   There is a sparkle in her eyes that gives away her physical and mental state.  That sparkle was only a dim glow as she emerged from below.  Instantly, seeing the horizon, that sparkle got brighter and in a half an hour, she had her head down in a book.  Later on that day, the book went overboard as she admitted it was a lousy book (my words, not hers). 

sunset on the Gulf

The winds dropped dramatically over the next hour and by 1100 it was right on the nose, what there was of it.  Sails down, engine on.  At at whopping 2.8 knots under sail, it would have taken two days to get to Tarpon Springs.  We turned the engine off and set sail three more times during the day.  Finally, we decided that the wind gods went elsewhere to harass some other crew.  By 1735, it was dead calm.


We stowed the sails and started the engning which we used for the next 100 nautical miles.  It was boring and noisy.  Sailors like the sound of the water and the sails, not a small, red, 42 horsepower diesel grunting and groaning below while vibrating the boat.  However; in this case, it was good to have old weezer.
 
I don't recall having our usual bean dip and chicken pot pie dinner underway that night.  Methinks it was crackers, nuts and Red Bull.  Not sure since the crew settled into a sort of trance for the long night ahead.  Flying fish were starting to show up as the brown water of St. Georges Sound gave way to the clear emerald wasters of the Gulf.   Nightfall settled in on Why Knot and we had everything in place for the night.  The ditch bag with EPIRB was sitting in the ready position and the radar was up.  All the instruments were in night mode, meaning low light with wierd reverse colors.  No moon made those lights too bright.  I switched to the masthead tri-color nav light so I could not see them at the helm.  We were humming and as always, I was listening for something to break. 
 
With little do do for the next twenty or so hours, Bear and I decided to suspend the watch system and spell each other on need.  As it turned out, I did not call for a watch change until 0300 or so but that was a waste.  I could not sleep.  Had this been another day or so on an offshore passage, that would not be a problem.  Bear later admitted that she did not sleep either. 

sunrise off Anclote Key- starting to look the same as sunrises, huh?

 
We reached the sea buoy off Tarpon Springs just before sunrise.  That was according to plan.  What was not according to plan was, as the guide books say: "the minefield of crab pots".  I saw the first some five miles offshore in fourty feet of water.  I saw it during that time of the long watch one is prone to hallucinate, which I was.  At first, all the trees and sea deamons obscured that pot.  Then the brain said, dummy, wake up.  You know what that was.  A quick search of the area revealed that we were in a string of them.  One does not want to have to deal with the float line wrapped around the old prop shaft, especially at that time of day.  We did not see any more for about two minutes then we had some, but not enough light to charge into the area.  Dead slow until daylight was the decision.  Awh heck, that added another two hours to the effort which delayed the intense desire to tie off and sleep somewhere.

Anclote river to Tarpon Springs

 
Once into the Anclote River, we noticed that even "no wake" zones have little meaning to some folks here.  "Hey George, see that slow sail boat from Texas? Let's see if we can throw them a wake they will never forget and maybe toss them into a day mark." "Got 'em.  Did you see that old dude at the wheel spill coffee all over the cockpit".  The river travels about five miles to the town of Tarpon Springs.  It is a nice chance to see many marinas and boats.  It is narrow in spots and as luck would have it, the right spot for some nucklehead to get the sailboat.  Those who know me might think I responded with gestures or radio calls to the offending boat.  We did not because we were too tired and it would have had no effect.  Several before us have mentioned this little quirk about some Floridian power boaters (emphasis on some since it takes only one to spill the coffee).
 
Having called ahead, we had a reservation with a certain marina who assured us that they had enough depth for our approach, we should have know somehting might not be exactly right.  They said, proceed toward the center span of the bridge you cannot get under (first clue).  Stay in the exact center of the channel until you get abeam of the old trawler that is on stand just the other side of the canal from us (second clue).  Go well past the green day marker on our side before you make the turn (third clue).  Don't cut the corner.  We will be on dock to catch your lines.  I have to say that WK's bulb keel and I have worked out a method to unstick us from the bottom, which has been successful so far.  While Bear stood on the bow with lines in hand, I worked on perfecting the technique five times.  She looked around and said that we might stop playing in the mud and go somewhere else.  That sparkle I spoke of earlier started to turn into a sort of lazer type stare from the foredeck.  I was tired but not tired enough to keep playing in the mud.

tied up and ready for sleep

 
We settled into the City Marina which turned out to be a good thing. We are in the middle of the Greek Historical District.  This town was founded on the sponge industry and still exploits that today.  On top of that, there is a festival all weekend.  We attempted to sleep yesterday but that did not happen until early evening.  We had to stay awake and guard WK from other boats arriving to these very narrow slips.   We did have some libations ashore last evening but will save that for tonight.  By 0600 this morning, we made up for the sleep deprivation of Friday/Saturday.  Now we are dealing with the soreness of wobbling back and forth for 26 hours at sea. Sunday, ah a good day to sleep with rain hitting the deck above.