Month: April 2018

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Q&A for Newly Salted

Paul & Lindsey

This Q&A is intended to appear on the Newly Salted blog so its setup to fit their format. When soliciting questions for this article we received some additional questions from readers through Instagram and Facebook that will appear next week in a part 2 post. If you have any additional questions you would like to ask us please post as a comment below and we will make sure to answer next week.

  • What is something that you read or heard about cruising, that you didn’t find to be true?
    • Paul: YouTube gave us the impression that there are a lot of young people cruising. In reality we don’t see very many people our age doing this sort of thing. Most people we see cruising are either retirement or early retirement age. When we do see young people they typically started cruising before establishing their careers. We haven’t really met anybody that has taken a break from traditional career paths like we have. Everybody we have met has been extremely nice though. Some people go cruising for the isolation but we really enjoy meeting new people, so if you see us out there stop by and say hi!
    • Lindsey: I had read a lot of stories that made it sound like every anchorage turned into a party or a potluck – as if you’d show up and instantly get a call over the radio to come join whatever is going on.  I have no doubt that these anchorages and people are out there, but like in normal life, most of the time you either end up chatting with the people you run into when you’re out and about (in the dinghy, on the beach or in the bar), or you really need to make the effort if you want to meet people other ways.
  • What is your biggest lesson learned? 
    • Paul: Can’t honestly say I’ve learned this lesson cause I will probably test it from time to time but it would be not to go to windward in bad weather. The sea is stronger than we are and it will win every time.  What’s comfortable on a down wind run can be downright treacherous close hauled. And motoring to weather, forget about it. Motoring is for when it’s calm, not for bashing into big seas. Sailboats just don’t have big enough engines to motor into weather.
    • Lindsey: What seems difficult or impossible now won’t stay that way. I mean this both physically and mentally. Like using the manual windlass – it’s amazing how quickly your body goes from feeling that pulling up 100 ft of chain is exhausting to feeling like it was barely a workout. On the mental side, things like route planning and navigation were overwhelming when added into everything else we had to think about as newbies, but now those things take a lot less time and we have better awareness of the details without it feeling like a mental overload.
  • What is the key to making the cruising life enjoyable? 
    • Paul: I had a job out of college sampling people’s water prior to natural gas drilling. One cold day in December I was in the house of this super nice elderly couple. While chatting the lady mentioned it was their 70th wedding anniversary. “Wow,” I remarked, “Whats your secret?” She leaned in real close and said,”If you’re gonna make it work, it takes a lot of give on both sides.”  I think this is the key is to both marriage and cruising; it takes a lotta give. The cruising lifestyle has no room for rigid and stubborn people; flexibility and balance are key to enjoying things.
    • Lindsey: A balance of enjoying the place you’re visiting and doing normal at-home things. It’s hard to remember sometimes this isn’t a normal “vacation” where I only have a few days to see and do everything. It’s ok to stay on the boat for day and just read, or do boat projects, or watch a movie – so make sure you are prepared to keep yourself busy (or not busy if you prefer) on these days. Recharge and then go hiking and snorkeling the next day.
  • What’s the most challenging thing about living on a sailboat? 
    • Paul: For me its the weather. On the whole the weather has  been spectacular, but there are some thunderstorms that come through on a fairly regular basis that can pack a real wallop. A lot of people stay at a dock or pick up a mooring for most of their season, but that’s not us. We like exploring, so to get to the best beaches, fishing and diving we are often times anchoring in less protected areas. We drew the short straw the other night when our anchor came loose. It was pitch black, the rain was horizontal, the anchorage was tight and there were lots of other boats around. There was also crazy thunder and lightning everywhere around us. We had no choice but to go on deck and reset the anchor in our underwear.
    • Lindsey: Hitting my head on things, knocking objects onto my feet, having to climb over another person to get into bed. As a short and small person, I’ve never had to be all that cognizant of my overhead and surrounding space, but now that I am living in a much smaller area, I am constantly finding the main hatch with my head and whatever is on the counter with my elbows. I’ve gotten a lot better than when we first bought the boat, but self-inflicted injuries are still a near-daily occurrence.
  • Whats the best thing about living on a sailboat?
    • Paul: For me without a doubt it’s the people we get to meet.  From the moment we bought the boat we have been surrounded by nice people with great stories. There is a real sense of community in the boating world. If you see us out and about say hi, we don’t bite.
    • Lindsey: Getting to sail! I’ve really liked sailing since the first time we took lessons, and now that we’re in the Bahamas, we’ve had some really great sails on windy days with easy routes. And since this is a full-time gig for now, we don’t have to play the awful game where we count how many boat weekends are left before winter and divide those up between boat project days and sailing days.
  • Do you ever get seasick?
    • Paul: I have in the past but not on Miss Fe. The first line of defense is picking good weather windows and staying hydrated. Though we didn’t have enough wind to sail the Gulf Stream, putting the sails up makes the boat much more smooth and easy on the stomach. We do carry a number of OTC and prescription drugs to help combat it. I personally take scopolamine patches as a preventative, but it’s a very unusual drug with some weird side effects.  Mahina Expeditions has a great article on seasickness worth a read. We apply most of their advice and have had good luck so far.
    • Lindsey:  I felt queasy on the Gulf Stream crossing, I think because it was rockiest at night, with no moon, so I couldn’t concentrate on any visuals. There are always moments down below, if the boat is rocking, where I suddenly feel off if I’m trying to do too much while facing different ways (like digging through the bottom of the fridge, then facing the opposite way at the stove, then facing backwards at the sink).
  • Do you catch a lot of fish?
    • Paul: I wouldn’t say the fishing has been great but we always seem to catch something when we go out. Haven’t had very good luck locating good-sized fish as they seem to be in deeper water and the geography here makes it very hard for use to get out far enough offshore in our dinghy to catch them.
    • Lindsey: I’m usually rigged up for smaller fish than Paul, so I tend to catch more. Ha! We’ve caught a bunch of little snappers and bait fish.
  • Are you running low on sunscreen?
    • Paul: Lindsey goes through the stuff like water. Thankfully we found a reasonable source that sells it by the gallon, no joke. In 3 months we have gone through a half gallon of this stuff Rocky Mountain Sunscreen – Kids, Gallon, SPF 50, Spray. We do take sun protection seriously and always have sunblock with us as well hats, buffs, and UPF rated clothing.
    • Lindsey: There’s probably not enough sunscreen in the world for me. There’s a reason my nickname is “pants-on-the-beach!”
  • As you started cruising, what transitions did you find most difficult?
    • Paul: Due to the location of the boat and its proximity to our jobs, I spent a lot of long nights away from Lindsey working on the boat. It wasn’t easy and isn’t something I would want to do again, but it got us here. Downsizing and moving out of our apartment was also particularly challenging. The best thing we did was move out of our apartment and downsize to move in with family 6 months ahead of living on the boat. Still rough but it was less of a shock to our systems.
    • Lindsey: I think it’s hard to always be around people who don’t really know you. It’s fun to meet new people, but since it’s our first season out and we’re constantly moving, it’s ONLY meeting new people. We are meeting people we will stay in touch with and will see again, but until then, I miss the experience of having enough time to bond with people.
  • What did you do to make your dream a reality?  
    • Lindsey: I’ll let Paul answer this one, but I just want to say that Paul generally does what he says he’s going to do, and whenever he gets into something, he really gets into it. If you think what he is saying sounds crazy and like he’ll never do it, you don’t know Paul.
    • Paul: I’m going to leave financials out of this because I feel thats its own post but I got the idea while watching the documentary Maidentrip on Netflix one night in August a few years back. After watching I looked and Lindsey and said, “This girl did it right! If a 16 year old girl can go around the world, we can at least make it to the Bahamas on a boat. Besides we can take the ICW and not even have to sail most of the way!” I  next did some more research and scoured the internet to find out how much it would cost. Lindsey is naturally suspicious of everything, so I knew I would need to make a strong case that this was financially feasible. That’s when I found the Bumfuzzle blog. Lindsey and I both read every entry for their circumnavigation, which gave us a big confidence boost. Probably about 3 months had gone by and Lindsey, while somewhat onboard with the idea, was not very sure about it since she had never actually sailed before. Logically thinking, I said we could take some ASA (American Sailing Association) courses in the summer. Over the winter I read every how to boat book I could find and by spring we were on the Delaware River learning to sail in ASA 101. After the first 2 day course Lindsey wanted a small boat of her own, so we searched Craigslist on the drive home and two days later we were proud owners of an AMF Alcort 14 catamaran. We sailed the cat in a nearby state park over the summer.  We took ASA 103 later in the summer, and in the fall we stumbled upon Miss Fe. She was the first big boat we seriously looked at and seemed to fit the bill for what we wanted at a price we could afford so we bought her. Those ASA courses didn’t do a very good job of preparing us, especially since there was no wind during either course but we managed to move the boat up the bay . Thankfully after re-rigging the boat we hired our riggers Walden Rigging to take us out and show us how to sail our boat in some proper wind. Additionally I raced a summer on the Chesepeake with the totally awesome crew of Split Decision. To sum it all up, we set our minds to the dream and just refused to quit.
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West End to Allans Pensacola: God’s Swimming Pool

Miss Fe Sailing
Paul and Lindsey in West End Bahamas!

After a good night’s rest, it was up to me as captain to go ashore at Old Bahama Bay resort and clear customs. I also had a side mission to obtain a BTC sim card for our cell phone. Under Bahamas rules, only the captain of the vessel is allowed ashore to clear customs, so this was to be a solo mission. I launched my inflatable NRS kayak and began a rather long paddle to shore. The distance was short, only a few hundred yards, but the current was extremely strong and I was paddling dead against it to avoid being swept out to sea. My trouble was that the closer I got to shore the stronger the current got.

Eventually after a good morning workout, I made it to the beach and put my feet down into baby blue water and soft fluffy pink sand. “Paradise at last!” I thought to myself.  Nobody was on the beach so I walked slowly towards the marina, taking in the beauty of the morning and the accomplishment I had just made. I asked the dockmaster and he quickly pointed me towards the customs building. Lindsey had done our research and I was prepared with:

  • Passports for each person on board.
  • USCG documentation (state registration ok if not documented)
  • Bahamas Customs clearance form which can be found here if needed.
  • Cold hard cash sufficient to cover entry and duty fees. It’s $350 for boats over 35 ft and $150 for boats under 35 ft. Bring at least $350 because we have heard rumors of boats between 30-35 ft being charged $350.

Having my documents in order, I entered a hectic room with half a dozen or so customs officials and numerous fishermen. I smiled and went to the first person that was open. He looked some things over and then left. “Ok..,” I thought. A few minutes later a lady came over and started signing papers and asked me to pay the cashier.  I requested a spearfishing endorsement which is supposed to be free and provided on the cruising permit but she flat out told me no spearfishing (and we’re still not sure why – everyone else we’ve met got theirs). “Bummer,” I thought but at least I was charged only 150 for our documented 33 ft boat which was awesome as I have heard rumors others were charged more. The lady then handed over my cruising permit and said I was good to go.

“Thank you” I said “but don’t you want to stamp the passports?”. She looked at me puzzled for a moment then snatched the papers out of my hand.

“You didn’t see the lady and the other side of the counter first?”  she barked.

“No,” I  replied sheepishly.

“Go see her, and when your passports are stamped you can have your papers back,” she ordered.

Thinking myself a fool for cutting inline I gave my surroundings a good study as I walked over. All the uniforms were the same as best I could tell, there was no sign saying start here, and no line of any kind. How was I supposed to know where to start? Filling out the immigration cards went quickly though. They are the only thing that can’t be filled out in advance as they are carbon copies. With passports stamped I quickly collected my paperwork before anybody changed their minds.

Next I walked into the marina store and asked for a BTC sim card. “Sure,” said the cashier, ringing me up and handing me the card. Then another cashier chimed in and told me I couldn’t have it because they couldn’t sell me the minutes. “Can’t I just buy them off the BTC website?” I asked. “Nope,” was the reply as the card was snatched from me and my money returned. “Yikes, between spearfishing endorsement and sim cards people are kinda picky about making up their own rules around here,” I thought as I pushed the kayak back into the water for a rather quick drift back to Miss Fe.

There isn’t really much in West End worth seeing so we hauled anchor and with no wind in sight motored onto the Little Bahama Bank. The first couple miles were through a somewhat narrow channel but it quickly opened up. The little Bahama Bank is really quite interesting topographically speaking. It’s a rather large area ~50 x ~30 miles, but it’s very shallow, rarely exceeding 20 ft deep. It’s more similar to sailing protected waters of a large bay, like say the Chesapeake, except most of the bank has little to no land bordering it. On a clear calm day in the middle of the bank, you cannot see land in any direction but you can see straight to the bottom as if it were a swimming pool in your backyard. We were in awe. After a while I turned to Lindsey and said “I’ve never seen anything like this; it must be God’s swimming pool”.

Little Bahama Bank
Gods Swimming Pool

It was in fact so clear that we could even see starfish on the bottom as we passed by.

Starfish on little Bahama Bank
Starfish!

It was a rather quiet day as we all sat on different parts of the boat quietly taking in what we had accomplished. The crossing had been tiring, weather and other obstacles were no doubt ahead of us, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the moment we were in and trying to soak up as much of it as possible before it disappeared.

As dusk came we anchored at a small island called Mangrove Cay. It wasn’t very inviting so we payed it little attention. In the morning we pulled out our charts and decided to attempt to get to Walker’s Cay some 20 miles to our north. Walker’s Cay is unique for several reasons. It’s the northernmost island in all of the Bahamas and while once a thriving marina and resort, it now lies in a state of abandonment listed for sale since a hurricane forced its closure in 2004. It was also well known for shark diving and big game fishing.

Little Bahama Bank
Quiet day bound for Walkers Cay

The sail towards Walkers was great. For one thing, it was the first time we had the sails up since NC (2.5 months earlier!). In addition, we had great wind and with the genny up we were regularly making 6-7 knots. We also had some visitors: With no land in sight, a little bird landed on deck to keep Dave company for a while, and we also spotted our first Bahamian dolphin.

Little Bahama Bank Sailing
Dolphin

As we approached the old channel to the abandoned Walkers Cay Marina I had a change of heart. It was narrow, hadn’t been maintained in over a decade and just gave me a bad feeling. With nobody else in love with the looks of it, we diverted over to Grand Cay, just miles to the south, which has become the northernmost settlement in the Bahamas with Walker’s closure. We arrived at Grand Cay in time to bust our the dingy for the first time and take a quick evening trip ashore. We didn’t even bother to bring a camera, thinking we would be back the next day. We (well, Lindsey and I) had a good laugh on the way to town as Dave’s clean shorts got soaked with water. Note: Don’t put the big guy on the bow of the dinghy!

What we found on Grand Cay was a real slice of “the old Bahamas.” A small community of ~400 people. No ferries or airports service the town so the only visitors come by boat. The docks looked run down but were full of fishermen returning from a day out. The streets are uneven cement wide enough for one golf cart to pass. The beer was reasonable at $3 and it was our first taste of some very fine seafood salad (in the Bahamas seafood salad, or conch salad, is very similar to ceviche but without chips and often with the addition of orange juice. As with ceviche the seafood is raw.) The bar (an outdoor gazebo with picnic tables and the salad cart nearby) was hopping with locals of all ages – one guy told us Sundays are family days. Dave and Lindsey made a point of walking the town and were not disappointed when they found waffle cones filled with bourbon cherry and rum raisin ice cream at a little shop.

On the dinghy ride out of town, we made Lindsey sit up front. It was starting to get dark but we saw the silhouette of something rise out of the water a few yards ahead of the boat. We were trying to figure out what it was, when all of a sudden – SPLASH! – Lindsey got drenched. I quickly diverted my light to identify the culprit, and lit up the beautiful spots of 2 eagle rays swimming by!

When morning came I was up at 6:30 to listen to Chris Parker’s SSB weather broadcast. Since I wasn’t able to procure a sim card yet, it was our only source of weather and the forecast wasn’t good. Chris was calling for a gale out of the west in less than two days time. We were anchored completely exposed to west winds so I quickly shook Lindsey awake. “We gotta go babe, can’t stay here!”

As we got breakfast going we poured over every anchorage for 30 miles. Westerly protection was very hard to come by. As morning drew on we tried several anchorages around Grand Cay but the holding was no good. We even assembled our storm anchor, a Fortress FX-37 as big as Lindsey but it wouldn’t hold in the grassy seabeds. Disappointed, we agreed to set sail for Great Sale Cay 20 miles to our south. On the way there still wasn’t much wind but we did manage to motorsail and find a  4+ft loggerhead sea turtle to keep us company.

Loggerhead Seaturtle

Great Sale Cay is a large island in the middle of the Little Bahama Bank. Though there are some 1960’s ruins, it is completely undeveloped with the only visitors being boats looking for safe harbor. Thankfully it offers two large harbors with westerly protection, just what we needed.

Zodiac Cadet Aero
Paul playing on the Zodiac

The next day was clear as forecast and we took full advantage snorkeling and walking the remote beaches before the storm set in. We saw sting rays, barracuda, snapper, jacks, and various little tropical fish. As the day progressed, about half a dozen boats arrived to take cover with us. We made a good call with Great Sale as it provided cover while we were pinned down for the next day. By the third night the winds had subsided a little down to about 20 knots and we were up for an island with a bit of nightlife!

Paul picking our next destination!

Talking with a little catamaran named Toucan they had great things to say about Allans Pensacola Cay and Green Turtle Cay. We wanted to go directly to Green Turtle since it is populated but figured it was too far so we made a stopover at Allans Pensacola. With the strong winds we had a very enjoyable sail.

Dave enjoying our first good sail in the Bahamas.
Good to have the sails up.

Our time on Allans Pensacola was short but we did have time to hike across the island to the famous signing tree, where visitors leave dated signs with the names of vessel and crew. We hunted for the remnants of the US Missile Tracking Station that was once on the island, but found only the asphalt of a former road.

The signs marking the trail head. Always a day too early for the free beer!
Dave checking out the Signing Tree at Allans Pensacola.
Paul enjoying the signing tree beach at Allans Pensacola

The next day we were up early and bound for the civilization of Green Turtle Cay.

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Bahamas Bound: Sailing Across to the Gulf Stream

Gulf Stream Crossing
The three musketeers ready for a Gulf Stream Crossing

We had a fun filled week at Cooley’s Landing. We made new sailor friends, tried out all the local sailor bars, and got to spend time with our Florida family. We also completed some minor projects (like replacing a hose for the head, oh joy!). On the down side we were boarded by an infamous pirate, no joke. We threatened trial and hanging, but he insisted he was just inspecting our vessel for stowaways prior to departure.

Cat boards sailboat at Cooley's Landing
Pirate on board!
Told you he was an infamous pirate

All joking aside we enjoyed our time at Cooleys Landing immensely and had made some good friends while there, but Ft. Lauderdale was a pit stop for us, not a destination.

While at Cooleys we would wake up at 630 am every day to listen to Chris Parker’s weather forecast. Chris broadcasts forecasts  for the Bahamas and Caribbean via SSB (marine shortwave radio). These forecasts are extremely detailed and tailored towards boaters. He charges a fee if you would like to ask questions but you can otherwise listen for free. We listened each morning only to be disappointed with large seas and high winds forecasts. Finally on March 12 Chris mentioned things might be calming down later in the week. I scoured my usual sources for weather (Windy and NOAA) and it looked like there would indeed be a possible break in the weather. Normally this would have been enough but several other factors came into play, which made us take our weather forecasting up a notch.

  1. The Gulf stream is a strong north flowing current that we would have to spend a significant amount of time in. If weather conditions aren’t right, it can be down right horrible in any size boat.
  2. My dad David would be coming down to give us a hand with the crossing and spend a couple weeks exploring. He was buying a last minute plane ticket so any delay in our departure would mean less time in the Bahamas for him.
  3. It was our first “ocean” crossing and we wanted a smooth ride (can you blame us after the fun we had in the chesapeake?)

With all this in mind, I sent off a quick email to the folks at Weather Routing Inc (WRI) asking for a custom forecast for the weekend, using a coupon we had received at the Annapolis boat show. WRI has a team a meteorologists forecasting marine weather around the globe 24/7/365 for everything from small boats like us to giant oil tankers. Within hours they provided us with a very detailed report, which you can download here.  They also offer  phone consultations, which we will probably try out when we return to Florida. I can’t recommend WRI enough if you are taking a long passage and need really accurate weather information. With the forecast being excellent I made a quick call to my dad and told him to buy his ticket since we would be leaving Friday morning at about 1:00 am.

A small portion of Miss Fe’s provisions

After a not-so-quick trip to Walmart and the largest grocery bill either of us had ever had, we were set to go – except we could not depart directly from Cooley’s Landing due to the extreme currents that had already rattled us getting in. So Wednesday afternoon we ran the New River gauntlet but this time we were a bit wiser than last time. We waited until the current was completely slack and then went for it. We cleared the first bridge with ease but just as we did the blasted railroad bridge closed on us. We were trapped again between two bridges.

We were treading water when a mega yacht crackled on the radio that they were coming through the first bridge. “Lindsey, starboard tie,” I hollered.

“What?” she said, “We’re doing great right here.”

“Time to play it safe. There is a beautiful public dock we can tie off to and avoid playing bumper boats again.” So we tied off and waited.  By the time the damn railroad bridge opened, we were in the company of 2 very large mega yachts. Since we were docked we passed through the bridge last. The yacht in front of us told the next bridge operator that we would like to pass as well, and the bridgetender replied he would “clear traffic and get it open in a moment.”  This is the same 300 yard section we had trouble in last time. Not trusting that “in a moment” meant any short length of time, I yelled, “Port Tie, Port Tie,” and we tied up to a random restaurant’s dock, nervous to be here again but safe and undamaged.

We waited and waited for the bridge opening, and as we did, a very large sportfisher (~70-80) also pulled in behind us to wait.  “What the hell is wrong with these bridge operators? We have 4 boats crammed in with probably less than a 100 feet between us. Are they trying to cause an accident?” I said to Lindsey. Luckily all 3 of the other boats were equipped with bow/ stern thrusters so they managed to hold position without hitting anything. It was without a doubt some of the best maneuvering I have ever seen any boat do let alone 3 at once. After another 20 minutes of sitting tight, the bridge opened, we pushed off the dock and we were free at last, sort of.

Our anchorage options were pretty bad in Ft. Lauderdale, with only 2 options. We choose Lake Sylvia which is less than a mile from New River. Boats were crammed in like sardines, and it was the tightest we have ever anchored. We set our anchor alarm for a distance so short that inevitably even a small windshift would set off  the alarm, making for a long night. But the boat was safe and we were ready to cross, except we still were missing a crew member.

Due to work commitments, my dad David left TN Thursday afternoon  after we were already anchored out. Not wanting to setup our dinghy only to have to take it apart again, we asked our friend Ryan at Cooley’s if he would be willing to shuttle David out to us in his rather spiffy 20hp dinghy. Ryan quickly agreed, and on arrival David found him at the marina ready to go.

They bailed the recent rainwater out and started up the dinghy, going about 100 ft before it died. Again and again, they kept starting it only to go a few hundred feet before it died. After about an hour I texted David, “Everything ok?” to which he replied,”Motor trouble”. Uh oh, I thought, swift current and no motor would make for a bad ride. Luckily they troubleshot that the fuel pickup was not doing its job so my dad had to tip the half empty tank at an angle for the duration of his trip. After a 5:30 am start to his day in TN, our third and final crew member was onboard at 8:00 pm,  just 3.5 hours before out departure time. We had a beer, swapped some stories, and tried to get about an hour nap.

At 11:30 pm I turned on the radio and woke everybody up to The Struts “Could Have Been Me”, followed by some CCR, Zac Brown Band, and Chris Janson. We rushed to complete our final preparations, determined to get the anchor up before midnight, while it was still Thursday – it’s considered bad luck to leave for a passage on a Friday.

Everybody was in good spirits and ready for a 12 hour ~70NM ride to West End, The Bahamas. The anchor came up without issue, the motor started right up as usual, and we glided out of the overcrowded anchorage with a smart look on our face. “This is going to be a piece of cake” we thought.

We had one drawbridge to clear, but with a closed vertical clearance of 55 ft, we wouldn’t need it to open. To be on the safe side,  Lindsey called the bridge well in advance asking to confirm the height. The bridge replied, “Due to insurance reasons, I cannot tell you. You’ll have to read the gauge on right side of the span.” Laughing, Lindsey pulled out the binoculars and waited until we were close enough to read the gauge – 56 ft – full steam ahead!

Thirty minutes after departing the anchorage, we were exiting Port Everglade. The sky ahead was dark and full of stars while the city lit up the horizon behind us. There was very little boat traffic, and we were relieved that there were no large commercial vessels nearby. Gentle 3 ft rollers started to rock the boat back and forth, and our speed under motor dropped into the 3-4 knot range. With only 18 hp but 28,000 lbs, even relatively calm seas can slow our boat down when motoring.

A couple miles offshore as the lights of Ft. Lauderdale were fading, I sent Lindsey below to take the first break. Shortly thereafter I noticed the engine temp was climbing higher than I like, and we were making black smoke. Not good, but its hard to get the prop pitch right at night when everything is dark. I adjusted it as best I could and gave everyone strict orders to check the temp at least every 15 minutes.

Now this would have been the time to put up our sails and make 6-7 knots, but we had one little problem. We were so focused on a smooth crossing that we picked a day with smooth seas but no wind. I mean nothing. There was so little wind it would have been completely hopeless trying to fill a sail with it. Before I went down at the end of my first shift I looked at the ETA on the GPS. It said 7 PM arrival. Not possible, I thought. At daybreak the winds will set in, we will kick some ass and be having conch fritters by noon. Not so, my friends, not so. As a side note, the stars were incredible as the lights of Florida faded and the flying fish were out in force. It was spectacularly beautiful calm night. Sometime during the early morning  hours we entered the gulf stream. The motor was running as hot as I would tolerate, but at least it was holding steady.

Lindsey’s notes: After a couple hours of sleep, I donned my harness, clipped myself into the cockpit, and took the helm so Dave could rest below and Paul could have a break from steering.  The watch schedule we had decided on was 2 people on watch at all times, rotating a person out to rest every 2 hours (which means your watch shift was 4 hours). Even though the swell was small, the boat was rocking pretty good and it’s hard to quell the queasiness in the dark without a horizon to look at it. My watch consisted of steering, hopping up every few minutes to do a 360 check for other boats, and counting down the time until there would be light. My biggest concern for this trip was ships, but luckily we saw very few, and the ones we did see were far off and heading away from us. We were running a bit north of our rhumb line, but Paul warned me not to steer too far east while we were still in the Gulf Stream as our speed would drop below 2 knots if I did, and at this point we were still hoping to make it the The Bahamas before sunset!

Gulf Stream sailboat crossing
Morning in the Gulf Stream

Finally, when I started my second shift, daylight had arrived. Yet there was still no wind. The windex (wind direction indicator) spun slowly in circles, aimless.  Lindsey kept an eye on the wind generator, hoping for any sign that we might get to sail, but the generator’s blades remained still for the rest of the trip.

Glancing off the bow I noticed scattered but frequent clumps of sargasso seaweed. I hoped, in vain, that a Tuna or Mahi would be hanging around one of the larger clumps. I dragged a lure behind the boat on a handline and even detoured towards the weeds a couple times hoping for a bite.

To my surprise I also noticed many Portuguese man-o-war, a pretty jellyfish-like creature that looks like a floating blue balloon and packs one hell of a sting. No swimming in the gulf for us today, I thought. As the day drew on we all took naps and had a few snacks. Without sails up, the boat was a bit rolly and nobody had much appetite for more than ginger ale and crackers. It was beautiful out there though and a nice break from the hustle and bustle of South Florida. The feeling of adventure was setting in for all of us. Hour after hour went by, and there was nothing but deep blue water to keep us company.

Finally late in the afternoon we spotted the water tower at Old Bahama Bay Resort. Since the weather was forecast to be calm for the next few days, we anchored  outside the marina in a rather exposed anchorage, just as the sun was setting. 19 hours had passed since we raised our anchor in Florida but it was so worth it – we made it to the Bahamas!

Land ho!

The next day, despite the ridiculously strong current in the anchorage, I dove in with a snorkel to see if a fouled prop had caused  the engine to run hot. It was clean as a whistle. Going to the next option, I checked the strainer sure enough it was partially clogged. Note to self: check the strainer, check the strainer, check the strainer….

 

 

 

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Ft. Lauderdale: Navigating through Bridge Hell

Sunset near Mosquito Lagoon

 

Sunset near Mosquito Lagoon
Sunset on the ICW

Drawbridges. Other than the shallow spots, the bridges are the next most stressful thing on the ICW (note: stressful, not scary). Though the first bridgetender in Norfolk was extremely communicative, we soon realized that’s a rarity. Eventually we got used to timing our arrival for scheduled openings and leaving space to approach the slow-opening bridges, there were still some bridges that were more exciting than they should’ve been.

Twice we had bridgetenders say, “Come on up, I’ll open when you get here,” but then not bother to tell us they were having hydraulic issues and couldn’t open. At one in NC, after some silence, I radioed to confirm the opening, and he casually told us he couldn’t open just in time for us to turn away. At another in SC, the guy was actively chatting, asking us questions about our wind generator, and it wasn’t until after we aborted our approach and asked what was going on that he was like, “Oh yeah, it’s not working. Hold on.”

ICW Bridge
Another day, another bridge.

One day in Florida we did 16 drawbridges in 33 nautical miles. It’s pure chaos on the radio with all sorts of boats talking to so many bridges on the same channel. Sometimes the bridges have 3 names, but they only respond to one – charts usually don’t have the name, so you better have a good book or website handy. Sometimes, they’ll believe you when you say you’ll arrive on time and they’ll open at the next scheduled time. Other times, if you’re not circling in front of them 5 minutes prior, they’ll tell you’re not close enough (I can’t blame them – we heard tons of people overestimating their proximity and speed to bridges. Bridges would have to be open for 15 minutes at a time if they believed these people).

Sometimes the traffic was crazy – I told a megayacht and a tugboat we’d go behind them through a bridge, which started a debate between 2 yachts and the bridgetender about who needed to go when to accommodate commercial traffic in both directions.

So when we arrived in Fort Lauderdale, we thought we were in the clear – just 3 on-demand bridges up the New River and we’d be golden.  Weather looked ominous but it wasn’t supposed to hit for over an hour, which would be enough time. We had heard that the river was narrow and the current could be vicious, so we waited until around the tide change to head up. We heard 100-foot megayachts say they had space to pass each other, so how bad could it really be?

3 Rd Ave Bridge, New River , Ft. Lauderdale
This Bridge was just the beginning of our troubles in New River.

Well, as it turns out it could be VERY BAD. We called the 1st bridge, knowing we were close, but the canal was so tight and curvy, we couldn’t yet see it. The bridge promptly filled up with car traffic, and Paul tried to hold our boat steady in the current which was not slack. Just as the bridge started to open, we lost control and had to do a 360 in a very small space to pass through successfully. I immediately called the next bridge and he gave me the bad news – the railroad bridge next to him was closed so he couldn’t open. We were stuck with only 300 yards between bridges and with a canal ~120 ft wide, minus the space taken up by boats parked on both sides. We were stuck in a bad spot. Paul managed to keep the boat steady and centered for a while with great difficulty. And then  the storm decided to make an early appearance – the wind started to gust and rain fell.

I saw a megayacht coming through the bridge behind us – I radioed them and told them proceed with caution as we were having trouble holding the boat. Just after that, Paul lost the bow and we started to spin. In the rain, in my barefeet, I slipped all over the place throwing fenders into place and grabbing the boat hook. In the land of million dollar boats, I looked up and saw that our bow was headed for – THANK GOD – the only smashed, dented steel boat in sight. Paul had the engine screaming in reverse, but with a small engine and full keel it was to no avail. I ran up the bowsprit and pressed the rubber end of the boat hook into the side of the other boat with all my strength. We just barely kissed the other boat, luckily not even scratching either boats’ paint, just as the engine dug in and we began to reverse.

“Sailing vessel, what are you trying to do here?” the megayacht asked me. Though I wanted to yell, “I TOLD YOU PROCEED WITH CAUTION M#$*(@#F*(@#,” what I actually said was, “We’re losing control, we’re going to try to tie up.”

Boat damaged by new river collision.
The boat we tapped into on New River. Note the broken window was NOT caused by us.

Luckily, Paul spotted the one empty spot on the side of the canal and headed for it. Unfortunately, our stern was headed for the pilings too quickly for me to get a fender into place and SMASH! One of the welds for the support to our solar panel pole snapped. I tried to get a line over the piling but missed. When I finally lassoed a wooden board, the boat was pulling away so I pulled my line back in. At this point, 2 construction workers (my heroes!) ran up to assist. I was able to toss lines to them, and they pulled us in to safety.

The rain poured down. I looked at Paul, who looked both dazed and defeated. Paul takes being a captain very seriously. He can skate through almost any situation by the hair on his chin, but this time his number was up. Sitting on a park bench, soaked to the bone, with his head in his hands he looked up and said, “You did great. Thanks for hanging in there with me. I’m sorry I screwed up so badly. I should have never brought us in here.” After thanking the construction workers, Paul called Cooley’s Landing Marina, which is run by the city and also owns the spot we were now sitting in, to see if we could stay here, but it was reserved for the next day. The guy from the marina even drove down to the talk to us. Maybe we could try again in the evening, at the next tide change. It was true slack tide now, but the radar showed the weather was worsening.

After a half hour or so, the marina guy called us. He said the storm actually blew out and the current is fine here, why not try now? Paul checked the radar and looked me and said, “Might as well get back on the horse, no sense in staying rattled.” I don’t know how he pulled it together so quickly and I wasn’t about to ask either. We readied our lines and called the bridge to make sure they could open. The Jungle Queen – a huge tourist ferry – radioed the bridge and said they’d be right behind us.  Another sailboat was coming the opposite way. I told the other sailboat we’d let the Queen go, then they could go, then we’d pass.

I watched the bridge open, and as soon as the Queen passed us I yelled, “Go! Go!” to Paul. He let go of his line and revved up the engine to get us off the dock and did another tight 180 in the canal to point us in the right direction.

It was smooth sailing through the next 2 bridges and we were into Cooley’s Landing Marina. It was time for a well deserved cheeseburger and several cold beers.

Later I read that the railroad bridge can stay closed for an hour, so it’s actually recommended that you are ready to tie up or even raft up (tie to other boats). On reflection, even before reading that, we realized that is what we should’ve done immediately. When we departed the marina the following week, we actually tied up to wait for both the railroad bridge and at the “scene of the crime” between the other bridges. Vehicle traffic on the bridge was bad, so 2 megayachts and a big fishing boat were waiting along with us for 20 minutes in that 300 yard span.

Let’s just say we’re glad there will be no drawbridges in the Bahamas.

How to safely navigate New River

New River was more challenging than anything else we encountered on the ICW but it is doable if you follow these 5

rules:

  1. Never go unless the weather is clear. The storm we faced was actually pretty minor, but even a little wind gust when you’re trying to hold position in tight quarters can be enough to ruin your day.
  2. Have fenders in the water on both sides and docklines ready on every cleat.
  3. At the first sign of delay tie up to the nearest empty dock space or if none are available raft up. Don’t ask permission , just do it – safety comes first.
  4. Know when slack tide is we found Noaa’s prediction to be accurate.
  5. Make sure the bridges are marked and easy to see in your chartplotter. Between the curves, trees, building and boats, some of the bridges are hard to see until you’re on top of them.

Also read both of these pages from Jordan yachts part 1 & part 2.

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What Its Like to Quit Your Job to Pursue a Dream

Lindsey and I moments before departing on the first leg of the trip.

It was about a three-year process from the time I got the idea to sail off into a Bahamian sunset to the time I actually quit my job. All the while both our careers kept getting better and better, making the idea of quitting harder and harder. Luckily both Lindsey and I were steadfast in our commitment to make it to the Bahamas.

The act of quitting one’s job is a whole lot easier than one might think. In my case it was a somewhat awkward 5 minute conversation with a boss who had taken very good care of me over the past 5 years. Was it comfortable? No way. Did I feel like I was letting down my colleagues? Absolutely. Did the thought cross my mind that this was the single dumbest idea I have come up with? You bet it did.  Was I scared? Yep, change is scary, especially big changes.

There was another thought though and it was this. If I don’t do this now, what will I think of myself 10 years from now when I look back? That is a reality I couldn’t live with.

While the actual act of quitting was fairly easy, the mental aspect was very hard to swallow. I knew from hiking that setting out into the unknown was about the scariest thing I was capable of doing to myself (also the most rewarding). As such we made plans almost a year in advance to try to the make the transition as smooth as possible. A full 6 months before departure we sold off most of our belongings, and I moved onto the boat while Lindsey moved in with her parents. To keep our sanity I would spend a night or two a week with Lindsey at her parents, and she would spend weekends with me on the boat. (Shout out to Lindsey’s parents for all the help they provided during this transitional phase).  The idea behind this strategy was that we didn’t want to be closing out our apartment and trying to prep boat at the same time. I think we made the right decision, but it was still a rough process prepping the boat and getting rid of things. After I quit my job I literally had 1 week to make final preparations on the boat before we left. It was stressful to say the least. We spent two weeks moving the boat south to New Bern NC which went pretty well despite some hiccups. I enjoyed the company of friends and the progress we were making. After the two weeks was up Lindsey went back to work, and I went to TN to flip a house with my dad.

While I enjoyed the time with my parents immensely, the insanity of our plans really started taking a toll on me. It was the first time in a long time I had a dark cloud hanging over me. I knew it was irrational and illogical but I couldn’t shake it. I felt like I was flying too close to the sun. After several days of feeling very down, I opened up and started talking to my loved ones. Nobody “solved it” for me and it didn’t just go away, but just the act of talking about it seemed to make things a bit better. A few positive words from a loved one goes a long way. During this rough time I read an interview with Michael Phelps. “It’s OK to not be OK,” he said, talking about the severe depression he would encounter after the Olympic games. Reading that quote “its OK to not be ok” from somebody of Phelps’s character really put my mind at ease.  My Dad also had great piece of advice: when you feel like shit just turn on some Bob Marley and it will be alright. Accepting that the dark cloud was there but would pass, along with a healthy dose of Bob Marley, seemed to take care of it.

Being reunited with Lindsey and Miss Fe in early February was wonderful and has been pretty great since.

I know that another dark cloud will come with my name on it. Life gets us all down from time to time. The more you ask from life the harder its going to bite back occasionally but its worth pushing through; the grass is greener on the other side.

Quitting any job is hard. Quitting to pursue a dream is really hard. You shouldn’t expect it to be all fun and games. It’s going to be an adventure and adventures always have their ups and downs. My advice: take a deep breath, talk candidly with your family/friends and maybe put on a little Bob Marley. If you’re still looking for more checkout the book section on our Things We Love Page. A lot of them have some great advice for getting out of a rut.

Stuck in Dismal Swamp Lock
Pulling Miss Fe into the Dismal Swamp lock, through the thick, thick duckweed. Sailing isn’t always easy.
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Stingrays, Manatees, and Golf Cart Shenanigans from Port Royal, SC to Pompano Beach, FL

The daily dolphin sightings continued into the busy part of Florida. My favorite part was when they’d pop up right beside the cockpit and breathe out a loud “Pfft!” – this usually startled Paul and he’d jump, then I’d laugh.

Paul thinks he can just relax in the cockpit….
… but they’re always lurking nearby.

 

Our next stop was Jekyll Island, GA. We’d heard about it from our riggers/friends Dobbs and Suzanne at Walden Rigging, who told us about the restored historic homes there. At some point on our trip, I saw an ad for the marina mentioning golf carts and bicycles – I told Paul we had to go!

We were aware that to get to the marina, we would have to scoot by the state’s sketchiest shallow spot in Jekyll Creek. Early in the day, we were looking good for an arrival prior to sunset and several hours prior to low tide. However, by the time we had the tip of the island in sight, we were a little behind schedule, and to make matters worse, the current, wind and waves were starting to work against us. I recalculated our ETA as we slowed to 3.5 knots, and it wasn’t looking good. On top of that, the marina hadn’t actually answered the phone or returned our calls.

I looked at Paul and asked him what he wanted to do. There was a possible anchorage at the northern end of the island that we could pull into, instead of pressing our luck. We both knew this was the better decision, even if it meant skipping this stop altogether to stay on schedule. I tried to sound honest and reassuring as I told him safety was more important than…. golf carts and Rockefeller homes.  He sighed, sensing my true desire for adventure, and said, “Let’s do this. I promised you those damned golf carts!”

Luckily, the marina answered our next call and told us to stay 30-45 feet off of marker 19. I checked the map and saw, based on that advice, that we’d be staying to the left to avoid the sediment that a side stream was dumping into the right side of the channel.

Unfortunately, we weren’t gaining any speed. We would now be arriving after dark and at low tide. As we passed the jetties at the creek’s entrance, we still had enough sunlight to identify the rocks we didn’t want to hit. Darkness set in just as we spotted marker 19 up ahead. We shined the spotlight on it and lined ourselves up to pass at the specified distance. We watched the depth drop on the chartplotter – 6 feet, 4 feet, 2 feet… we were crawling at barely 2 knots and holding our breaths… 1.5 feet below the keel… when it dropped below 1 foot I looked away and braced for impact.

“It’s going up!” cheered Paul, who had the guts to still be watching the numbers.  Astonished and relieved not to be spending the night stuck in the mud, I prepped the dock lines. We had an easy end spot on the dock, but the marina was nearly adjacent to a bridge, limiting our room for maneuvers. Luckily, a couple ran over to assist us and pulled us safely to the dock.

“Good thing I grew out this beard,” Paul said to me, “because we just made it here by the hair on my chin!”

A bit amped up by the close call, we decided to walk into town. Jekyll is a cool place. Though touristy, the town has sidewalks and Adirondack chairs under palm trees all along the beach. The next day we borrowed bikes from the marina to head into the historical part of town – the restored vacation homes of America’s railroad tycoons and other such rich folk. Apparently those aspiring to be like that still come here – We saw people dressed in all white playing a serious game of croquet on the green front lawn of the clubhouse (where it would have cost the two of us $80 for brunch). We then borrowed the marina’s golf cart to tour the whole island.

Jekyll Island – our first beach stop of the trip!
Jekyll Island Historic District
Jekyll Island Historic District – lovely by bike or by golf cart!
Ready to explore Jekyll Island by golf cart
Croquet on the front lawn – for real?!

I had been nervous about 9 foot tides in Georgia, but with low tide hitting when we usually weren’t traveling, Georgia ended up being much more relaxing than expected.

Foggy sunrise near Savannah, GA
Savannah River – First cargo ship we’d had to dodge since leaving the Chesapeake.
White pelicans in the marshes of Georgia – when our boat would approach, they would take off flying in neat formation. Of course when I had my camera ready, they just hid in the grass instead of flying.
More waterfront mansions
A foggy day on the ICW
Fisherman near an inlet in Georgia

The whole trip had been very calm as far as boat traffic, so it was Daytona before things started to get busy with other sailors, fishermen, tour boats, and jet skis.  At one point, I stood up to watch some boats passing in front of us and I see a STINGRAY leap out of the water!

I thought that was the best thing ever until the next day in the Haulover Canal when we topped it. The guide book said “lots and lots of manatees” in this area, to which I said, “Yeah, right, we’ll never see them.” But there they were, a huge group of manatees beside the canal, popping out of the water to eat leaves off the bushes. They were all over the canal, just floating along. We also saw our first sea turtle and an island full of all sorts of birds.

I’m so ridiculously excited about this manatee coming up for a snack, I can’t even explain.
Osprey on the ICW
Is that a scarlet ibis?!
Ok, not birds, but a flock of skydivers still counts, right?

After this the water finally started to turn get bluer. We tried to go to a snorkel park near North Palm Beach but the visibility was awful, so instead I walked 20 minutes across a bridge to get a pizza, since we hadn’t had pizza since New Bern. SO WORTH IT.

It’s funny being in Florida though. In the southern states, people were so polite on the water and on the radio. Here it’s a rude free-for-all. People yelling at each other on the radio. Coast guard scolding people for using channel 16 incorrectly. Huge power boats ripping by with giant wakes. No more pre-tied lines and fenders at the fuel docks. It doesn’t bother us much, but the contrast is just starting.

(Feb 21-Mar 6 – by Lindsey)