We spotted the entrance to Little Shark River as the sun was beginning to kiss the horizon. Our trip took a little longer than we expected because of all the course changes and crab trap rope removal. Had it not been for the traps, it would have been a perfect sail.

This was a new flag when we started

Ahead of us, and slightly inland, were some pretty ferocious looking thunderstorms. Not only were we anxious to make Little Shark River anchorage before the sun completely disappeared, we wanted to get the anchor set ahead of the storms.

Everything happened pretty quickly at this point.

We entered the mouth of the river and made it several hundred yards to the first bend. The chart showed twelve feet of depth there, and a good bend in the river to offer protection from all directions.

The tree line and shore offered protection from the winds and waves, giving us a nice calm anchorage. I pushed the Danforth anchor over the bow roller and let out about fifty feet of chain.

The Admiral was putting the mosquito panels on the cockpit enclosure as the bugs began to find us.

The sun was set and the storm was overhead. It got extremely dark, the lightning moved on top of us. For a period of time, this was a good thing. With every stroke of lightning, I was able to get a visual fix on our position with reference to the trees to make sure the anchor was holding.

This worked for a few minutes, until the skies opened up in a deluge of rain and hail. When the lightning would strike during the heavy rain, the tree line was invisible, cloaked behind a solid wall of rain.

Twenty-five knots of wind, with a few stronger gusts, were being recorded on my wind gauge. As I could no longer see the trees in the utter darkness, the wind howling, hail pelting the boat, I had no idea if we were dragging anchor.

I turned on my little handheld GPS and fixed our position.

Sunrise on the river

Giving the storm a few more minutes to vent its fury, I saw we had moved fifty feet since turning on the GPS. We were dragging, albeit slowly.

Normally I would start the engine and put the boat in gear thereby taking pressure off the anchor and hold us in place. This would not work this time as I was completely blind. Not one source of light anywhere outside the cockpit. I had no idea where the twisting shorelines were anymore. If I kept dragging, where would I drive us to? I couldn’t see a thing.

The Admiral saw the look on my face, and recognized our dilemma. “What can you do? We are blind, and don’t know where to go.”

Realizing how helpless I was at this point, I simply turned the GPS back off. Nothing to do till the storm is over, and then we will figure it out from there.

Forty five minutes later the rains abated. We discovered that we had dragged a total of 155 feet from when I had  turned the GPS on. The anchor was apparently well set at this stage, so nothing left to do but enjoy some ice cold adult beverages and get some sleep.

When things got really quiet I could hear dolphins breathing beside the cockpit of the boat. I couldn’t see where they were, but they were close. I could hear them broach the surface and take breaths. They had apparently found some comfort in sleeping next to the boat for a while.

Awesome.

The next morning we were up at sunrise. This was one of the most peaceful and tranquil spots we had anchored in to date. Absolute solitude in the Florida Everglades.

Getting a free ride back to shore

We could hear the wildlife beginning to stir. I thought about the jungle noises and the TV series, Survivor. If they filmed Survivor Everglades it would only last the first night. Everyone would quit the next morning…

We fully intend to return to Little Shark River and do some daylight exploring. The safety of the boat at anchor should provide some protection from the panthers, snakes, and other people eating creatures of the Everglades. It will be a wonderful adventure that I’m looking forward to exploring.

Easing out into the Gulf on our way north, we set the sails and enjoyed a pot of coffee. Breakfast will have to wait while we indulge in the sunrise and nature’s beauty.

Leaving the river behind as another boat arrives.

I was fortunate enough last year to compete in this race to Mexico, and it was the thrill of a lifetime. Stunning night skies followed by brilliant sunrises in the open ocean, it’s when heeling over on a sailboat eclipses all of the world’s problems.

This year, I’m stuck in foreign lands on tasks that are about as opposite from sailing as possible. So, with my computer and imagination, I’m with my crew from last year. I have managed to mentally escape and return to the open ocean, and life is wonderful during this brief respite.

Here is the race report so far.

Monday 26 April 2010 10 AM positions

The Elice II owned by Marlin Brigman departed St. Petersburg Fl on the 24th of April 2010 as part of the Regata del Sol, the race to Isla Mujeres Mexico. I’m logged onto the live tracker and have been silently cheering my old shipmates along.  If mental energy can cross oceans and push a sailboat along on a port tack, they should be cutting waves with precision and ease.

The Gulf Stream, which is a strong ocean current, arrives from the south passing between Cuba and Mexico, right along the race course. The current can reach upwards of 3 kts. which, can really slow you down if your heading straight into it. When the boat is traveling at 5.5 kts. and you are heading into a 3 kt. current, well, you’re only moving ahead at 2.5 kts. It can take a long time to get anywhere that slow. (but it’s a sailboat, one of the slowest forms of transportation around, so what do you expect)

http://cloud.iboattrack.com/r/google_view.php?r=2010_regatadelsol

Monday 26 April 2010 8PM position

Anyhow, the race appears to be on! There are several classes of boats, as all boats are not created equal. The class of Elice II is in is the ‘Cruising B’ class, which groups equal boats together. The Elice is running nose to nose with Nobility, a Morgan OI 41′.

Already in port is the American Spirit, a Beneteau 39OC, which appears to have taken first place in this class. The Elice, a 47′ Catalina, is fighting for second. (last year we took 3rd) I’m sending a lot of mental energy that way my friends…

It appears that the Elice has plotted a course that favors the crossing of the stream a little better than Nobility right now. Nobility took a more northerly course for the race. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

You can see the stream current indicated by the solid black lines running north with the speed listed next to them. If the wind keeps blowing, Isla Mujeres should come into view with the sunrise in the morning.

Yucatan Channel currents

Good luck my friends~

http://www.isla-mujeres.net/home.htm

After a rather long and cold winter (40′s & 50′s) the temps are finally coming back up to something livable. Once your blood is thinned by the Florida climate it becomes painfully difficult to endure anything below 60 F.

The good folks at the Boca Ciega Yacht Club decided that some innocuous spit of land in Clearwater would be a great place for the club cruisers to gather for the weekend. The sandy spot is what is known as a ‘spoil’ island. It is entirely manmade by dredging out the Intercoastal Waterway. All the dredged up sand has to go somewhere.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhxqaV6561s

I didn’t know it had been given a name, nor could I find a name for it on a chart. One day I’ll find out the story behind the name, there must be one. It is impossible to lose anyone, or anything on the island. It’s simply not that big. The one lone tree on the island does not provide summer shade for anything more than three birds and a couple of turtles.We did find one Jellyfish washed up. I’ve never seen a Jelly like this one before.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdGkTBtX7hs

There is nothing particularly spectacular about this article, except that it was just a wonderful cruise.

We sailed out in the Gulf of Mexico northward along the western coast of Florida. The weather was perfect, the seas calm and the winds light. It was a beautiful day. We looked at the masses gathered on the beach’s and could hear remnants of live bands every now and then.

14 boats showed up for the cruise. We all anchored and took dinghy’s to shore. Some folks brought firewood, some brought snacks. Everyone brought a good time. It’s the beginning of sailing season and a great way to start the summer.

I was asked about how long it would take to get to where we were going.

My answer was, “I got where I was going when I stepped onto the boat.”

Xanadu, Panache, The Rachael, Casa Mia, Second Love, Sailacious, and Celebration made up the expedition.

Fort Jefferson, Dry Tortugas

We hop scotched down Florida’s west coast stopping at Venice, Pelican Bay, Ft. Meyers Beach and Marco Island before embarking on our overnight passage to Key West. Each of these stops along the way could be a story unto itself, but in the interest of time, we’ll leave those stories for the porch.

We arrived at daybreak in Key West after an 18 hour or so passage from Marco Island. This was my first passage of any length, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was somewhat apprehensive about this long, overnight ordeal. Our group stayed in contact via the VHF, at most separated by 2 or 3 miles. Every hour during the night we reported in stating our condition and our position relative to the Key West marker. I was surprised how quickly the night passed. Thank God it was daylight as we entered the Key West channel. I say this because looking at the lights marking the channels, shoals, etc. approaching Key West, it was the most confusing set of visual aids I had ever seen. Being a 30-year, multiengine instrument pilot, licensed to fly in zero visibility, navigating by instruments is something that comes easy to me. However, having little or no sleep while lining up the paper charts, with the plotter, watching your depth meter for conformation, and coordinating all this with what you visually see which was a myriad of lights blinking and flashing in every direction, I can only say that whoever the guy was who sold Key West the hundreds of lights marking the waterways must have made a lot of money.

Most of us stayed at the Conch Harbor Marina for Thursday and Friday and we departed Saturday morning. Conch Harbor is a Latin phrase meaning “over priced”. However, it was one of the nicest marina’s I’ve been to. Great pool, good food and drinks, showers, laundry…all the amenities. Bill Casey and his crew aboard Second Love had some mechanical difficulties and anchored out. So, we didn’t see Bill or his crew very much until we were on our way back days later. But the rest of us did our thing in Key West. We were a short walk to Duval Street where as they say, “the action is.” We also made a pilgrimage to Mallory Square at sundown to watch and toast the sundown and enjoy the circus like atmosphere that is so Key West. Restaurants, bars, streets, music, lifestyles, it is so different but so neat to see. We decided to rent a motor scooter which made getting around Key West very easy.

Before we knew it Saturday morning had come. Panache left the dock begrudgingly around 6:30 am. Coffee was hot, weather was good, wind was wrong, sun at our backs and the big W on the compass told us go west young man, go west. So west we went. We passed the Marquesas, a string of uninhabited islands 25 miles or so west of Key West. Then, hours and hours of hours and hours, until finally, late in the day Fort Jefferson started rising above the horizon. We had made it. We were still alive. One by one, all of the remaining BCYC boats entered the crystal clear waters of the anchorage abutting Fort Jefferson, dropped our hooks, and settled in. I had never been there before. What a sight. A fortress, in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to drop my dingy in the water and rush over to get a first hand up close look at this thing. But first, there was relaxing to do, wine to open, and a cigar was calling my name. There would be plenty of time to explore. It was only Saturday, and we weren’t leaving until Tuesday afternoon. On the other hand, a quick trip to shore would be nice. We could walk and get some exercise, see and touch Fort Jefferson up close, plus check out the scene in general. We dropped the dingy and headed through the crowded anchorage. We eased through the gin clear water and up on the beach. We had landed at Fort Jefferson. Our feet were on solid ground. The highlight of this first, short, shore expedition was discovering where the visitor’s center was. It had a lot of interesting stuff, but the best part about it, it was air-conditioned. Over the next few days we would visit that air-conditioned center a lot. I personally watched their orientation movie 12 times.

A little later, back on the boat, wine was flowing and cigars were glowing. A big dinner of pan fried pork chops, grilled onions, real mashed potatoes, and salad was devoured with all the gusto of a pack of hound dogs. Panache’s water tanks were full so hot showers were in order. I crawled in my bunk thinking I might read but fell asleep way too fast for that.

Sunday & Monday at Fort Jefferson

The crowded anchorage got less crowded as a few non-BCYC boats departed Sunday. We had 6 BCYC boats and I’m guessing there was probably another 10 or so in the anchorage with us. Like any cruise, we had a lot of comradery going on between club boats, and in doing so, we managed to make friends with other boats as well. One boat in particular, from Cortez, had a father/son on board who lived to fish. We had some killer pot luck dinners onshore that went on late into the night. We invited the father/son team, Mike & Mike Jr., to our pot luck. That day, they caught a yellowfin tuna that they lightly seared and brought to the potluck providing all 6 boats with all the delicious sushi we could eat. While we were there, Mike & Mike Jr. would come by Panache once or twice a day offering us fresh snapper, yellowtail, and grouper.

All this fresh fish got us excited, so Guy O’Conner, our marvelous trip leader, and I jumped in my dingy and went on a fishing expedition. We caught nothing, zip, nada in the way of fish. Guy managed to “fish” a baby bird out of the water who had somehow managed to fall into the sea. Unfortunately, the little bird didn’t make it but it wasn’t for lack of effort on Guy’s part. For those of you who don’t know Guy O’Connor, he is one terrific person. He’s honest and kind, dedicated and knowledgeable, considerate, loyal and just such a good man. He did such a good job in planning and leading this trip.

Later that day our BCYC group had fun snorkeling and saw some awesome sights including some pretty big fish. I think that almost everyone in our group took advantage of the wonderful snorkeling opportunities surrounding Fort Jefferson.

I’ve got to write a little bit about the birds, as they were a complete surprise to me. As it turns out, our anchorage was bordered to the west by Garden Key which houses Fort Jefferson. Bush Key borders it to the north, which house about 100,000 birds. These are not the normal run of the mill seabirds we are used to seeing. These birds, about 4 different varieties, come from as far away as Africa to nest on this one particular island in the Dry Tortugas. For some of the species, it’s the only spot on earth where they do so. I guess it’s a bird watching paradise for some and interesting to all of us. Now these birds make a lot of noise…day and night. I thought birds roosted at night and went to sleep. Honestly, the noise of the birds was no match for comfort and serenity of our bunks, and sleep came easily.

Tuesday morning was approaching. Some of us were leaving early morning and heading for Ft. Meyers Beach, the rest of us were leaving early afternoon and heading for Marco Island. Everyone had a safe passage and rested well Wednesday night. Thursday night we all wound up in the Cayo Costa area and we reunited with Bill Casey and his crew aboard Second Love. This crew was unable to get to the Tortugas due to mechanical problems, but they made lemonade out of lemons and had a great time in and around Key West. Friday night was spent in Venice where about 2 weeks earlier we had spent our first night. Then Saturday afternoon, our little fleet from BCYC passed through structure C and into the home waters of Boca Ciega Bay.

Many thanks to Guy O’Conner and Cathy Tallisman, our cruise directors, who put together a simply marvelous cruise. Well planned from beginning to end. Panache, along with Casa Mia, Sailacious and Celebration were first timers on this cruise. Xanadu and The Rachael both had made the trip and crossings before and were veterans. I also have to give thanks to Dave Brangaccio aboard Xanadu for coming to our aid on more than one occasion with his mechanical expertise. Looking back, I learned a lot about myself and a lot about my boat and was surprised how enjoyable the long crossings were. I envisioned being on pins and needles while 60 or 70 miles offshore. That wasn’t the case. Of course it helped that the weather was good and other boats were close by.

This may have been the best adventure of my life…so far! Thanks BCYC.

Written by Jeff Reckson, Fleet Captain BCYC.

(reprinted with permission)  Photos stolen from Wikipedia and added for dramatic effect 

Wasting an entire day is truly becoming an art form for me.  It’s not for everybody.  My standards of a normal day have changed over the years.  

So you ask, just what is normal?  Well… this day it was being totally worthless at being a productive human being.  I was previously a success at fixing the wind generator a couple of days ago, so today will be different.  The much delayed part from ‘eMarine Systems’ had finally arrived, the fix was easy.  I simply had to have the correct part.  I’d fixed a few other things as well, but that will be in a later blog entry.  This one is about being worthless on a sailboat…

The sun rises to an empty schedule.  Nothing on the calendar but the day and date.  Were it not for the miracle of the personal computer, I would not even know that much information most of the time.  But, since I’m part of the modern electronic world, allow me to share the day’s events.

Watch the sunrise. Drink coffee.

Yep, that about sums it up.  Next thing you know it’s around noon.  We are anchored off the beach in Gulfport Florida, one of my favorite places on the west coast.  The anchor is holding very well, the bay is reasonably calm, and the pace is slow.

We decide to go for a bit of a dinghy ride and exploring a little bit.  It’s always nice to go poking about in a little rubber boat with an outboard.  There is very little work involved and if you hit something, you bounce off without too much damage.  

We find the entrance to Clam Bayou a bit east of the Gulfport Pier.  This is a piece of natural Florida that has managed to survive the urban sprawl along the waterfront. Entering the Bayou we are greeted with a wide assortment of waterfowl relaxing about as much as we are.  Fish are schooling ahead of the boat as we push deeper into the mangroves.

The water is getting shallower as we progress which is limiting our explorations.  This is a perfect place for a canoe or kayak.  One of the water trails is marked for human powered boats only, no internal combustion engines allowed.  We explore the areas that we can get to with our dinghy and enjoy the serenity once I kill the engine.  If you own a kayak, this trail is just what you are looking for.

Entering Boca Ciega bay once again as we continue around the bay back into civilization.  The weather appears like it will be changing in the next day or so.  High clouds are forming some impressive overhead scenes which is usually a sign of another front on the way.  

So we head back to the boat in time to enjoy the evening activities.

Watch the sunset. Enjoy a cocktail.

Yeah, life on a boat…

Links you might enjoy:

http://www.dep.state.fl.us/coastal/sites/bocaciega-pinellas/

http://www.stpete.org/parks/clambayou.asp

N 27 44.5 W 82 41.4

The Gulfport Pier is on the lower left, with Clam Bayou being the nice green area. Click on the picture for a little closer view.

I know, very traumatic if you are not expecting it.  You’ve been enjoying the evening and now the black cloud of depression begins to set in… but wait!  There is hope!

You spot a bunch of coconut trees on the next island just ahead.  There they are, nature’s mixers, yours for the taking.  Salvation looms just above the rum bottle.  All you have to do is open the coconut.

The finished, and ready coconut

You break out your knife and start hacking.   Twenty minutes later you grab a flat headed screwdriver.  Next comes the hammer.   Checking the width of the coconut , you determine that the vise will not open large enough to insert the now mangled and tattered coconut.  Vise grips, pliers, I’ve even tried cutting with a keyhole saw.  The hacksaw was simply too much work.  I was ordered, by the Admiral, to just put the skill saw back down or she would cut the cord.

Frustrated, you toss the coconut into the water where it makes an ungainly ‘kaploop’ as you toss it over the side, unopened, devoid of any rum flavoring.

Aha! There is hope.  Here is the step by step guide on ‘How to open a coconut’.  You shall never again be faced with having to consume your Rum Sundowner without the sweet fresh coconut just waiting for your drinking pleasure.

There are several common tools needed to accomplish this task.   Once you have managed to open a few, you will quickly become an expert and amaze all your friends with your natural survival instincts and abilities.  You could also become very popular should you get selected for the Survivor T.V. series.

If you intend to make a machete one of the tools, and plan on hacking off a once usable limb, you can stop reading now and check your insurance policy.  This is the process your kids can utilize. (sans the rum)

1. Place the coconut on the ground.  It will have three or so semi-flat sides.  Remove toes from the immediate area.

2. Take a small pointed shovel or spade.  Stab the coconut with the convex (outwardly curved portion) toward the inside, or middle, of the coconut.

3. Do the same in reverse order with another shovel.  The object here is to have the back of the shovels against each other.  You do not have to get tremendously deep here, just get a good ‘bite’ into the husk.

4. Now, with the backs of the shovels touching, use the handles to pry open the husk a little bit.  Make a couple of good ‘stretches’ in the husk.

5. Roll the coconut onto another side and repeat.  Then roll it, and repeat.

6. The nut is now exposed and you can easily tear it from the husk.

7. The husk works for your small beachside campfire, as a planter for the pretty orchids, or air plants you may have hanging around (you can sell them to your friends, or they make great gifts).

8. Shake the nut and listen to the milk sloshing around in there.   That is what we are after next.

9. Hold the nut so you can see the top.  There are three plugged holes.  Some folks call this the monkey face.  The ‘mouth’ will always be the softer of the three holes.

10. Poke this hole with the screwdriver you had earlier.  Just kind of dig it out.  If using a knife, be very careful… really, it will hurt, trust me.  I know of such things.

11. Once the plug is dug out, pour the clear rum mixer into any handy container.

Here is the tricky part: deciding if you want to eat the coconut now, flavor it, or save it.  So, to flavor it, pour some rum into the hole and plug with a leftover wine cork you have whittled.   (There is lots of time on a sailboat for these sorts of activities.)  You can decide to cut it in half and make a really cool drink cup out of the lower portion, or any other manner of really extraordinarily cool neat things.  But for now, let’s assume you have an anxious parrot wanting to get at the sweet white meat inside the nut and we need to cut this thing open.

12. Grab that hammer you had earlier and give the nut a couple of easy whacks.  It will crack fairly easy now that the little hole has been dug open.   Whack it into manageable pieces.

13. Get that knife you had earlier.  This will allow you to pry the white meat off of the brown nut shell.  Be careful, you can get cut, trust me, I know of such things.

14. Share the coconut with your parrot.

15. Flavor to taste and then sip the rum as the sun sets.

Enjoy the fresh juice and meat. While you’re at it, tip your drink my way and give us an ‘Ahoy’!

Footnote: In response to readers comments I’ve linked the photos so you can view a larger image. Double click them and there you have it~magic!  And while your at it, leave some comments, or share the link with your friends. It’s all FREE!

I pointed at the T.V. and said, “One day that is going to be us anchored there.” I received the customary, ‘yes dear, uh-huh’ reply.

Waking up this morning I listened to a now familiar sound. Light puff’s of air followed gentle swirling splashes of water. They were feeding all around my boat. We were finally parked there, in the harbor. I bet we were on the morning news show weather picture.

Dolphins feeding in the Vinoy Basin

The dolphins were chasing breakfast. I got up and looked through the portlight. (boat window for the landlubbers reading this) I could almost reach out and touch them.

Arriving on deck in my skivvies I watched my own morning weather show. The sun was rising above the horizon casting a red glow across the bottoms of some high passing clouds. A light breeze was spinning the wind generator as the solar panel began to grab the first bits of the sun’s electrical power. The city was still quiet.

We were anchored in the Vinoy Basin, which is in downtown St. Petersburg. We have been here for three days now. Once I completed the solar panel project we decided to go out and give it a try. We headed into Tampa Bay and hoisted sails. The winds were light and variable. Not a great day for sailing, but a beautiful day for boating.

Sheree set out a couple of trolling lines looking for Spanish Mackerel. I’m certain that they would be allowed to bleed on the deck…

Easing along the surface of Tampa Bay

The day was about as peaceful as one could ask for. I was about three miles out into the bay when the wind died altogether. Not a problem I thought as we dropped the anchor. The water was calm. It was time for lunch.

Somehow a nap crept in. That melted away the rest of the afternoon so we headed in.

Approaching St. Pete there is a large pier protruding into the bay. It’s appropriately named, ‘The Pier’. There are several restaurants, an aquarium, shops, and bars. They always seem to have something going on. Live bands, arts and crafts shows, something interesting. Later this month they are having a Michael Jackson event where they are trying to break the world record for the most people ever dancing at once to the song Thriller. I think that may present a little too much activity for me…

We set anchor in the well protected bay and dropped the dinghy. The night was as peaceful as I could have ever hoped for. The bay was calm and the winds were light. The city lights were gorgeous. The buildings were lit with varying colors highlighting the architecture and flavor of the town.

Downtown St. Petersburg

There was a dinghy dock at a boat rental business here on the bay. You park at the business and on the way out is a little lock box affixed to the gate requesting a$5.00 fee for use. ‘Honor System’ in play. We were honorable.

A short walk downtown and we found a nice outside café partaking in evening cocktails and dinner. How nice. This was followed by a quiet stroll around Coffeepot Bayou in the dinghy.

The next morning we went exploring some more in the tender. We traveled through the St. Pete Yacht Club moorings and around Albert Whitted airport. There is a place to anchor at the end of the runway. This is a busy little airport on the water. You want to keep your masthead light on at night to show the small aircraft where not to go, you are that close.

The activities in an anchorage are intriguing at times. The range spreads from multimillion dollar mega yachts to rowboats. The shore-side parks house the homeless and roving packs of laughing teenagers at night.

Chapel on the bay

Vinoy Park had an event yesterday that had thousands of people filling every empty space ashore. It was a breast cancer awareness 5k walk/run. Pink was the color of the day as throngs of folks lined up on Bayshore Blvd to begin the event. News camera’s were everywhere and the police had streets blocked off.

We enjoyed the spectacle from the  serenity of our boat, binoculars in hand. Most of the handmade signs were of the standard variety you would expect to see at a breast cancer event. There was one fellow who was in the middle of the pack holding up his sign, “SAVE SECOND BASE.” That was my favorite.

Just enjoying the day

There was a 30’ Hunter sailboat anchored next to us for the last three days. (Did I mention we were only staying here for one night?) There was a lady onboard with a young girl, about 7. She climbed the mast and perched on the boom while playing with a doll and seemed very happy. When Mom went up front to hoist the anchor this morning the little girl manned the helm adeptly keeping the boat in position. They departed to points unknown waving goodbye on the way out of the harbor.

I didn’t know she was listening at the time, but Sheree reminded me of the day I pointed at the T.V. and said, “One day that is going to be us anchored there.”

We have arrived.

We had a big laugh while reading the directions. They indicated an easy one morning project. What am I at now, day five?

Dinghy davits used to also hold up the solar panel

The electrical cable I ordered from Miami a week ago with three day shipping has yet to arrive. I’ve called the company four times now and have yet to speak with someone about the order. The lady on the other end keeps taking my phone number and telling me someone will get right back to me!

Well, I really can’t delay this project much longer and maintain any dignity around the marina. You don’t do anything here without the scrutiny of everyone in eyesight. They all watch the project progress and are eager to present insightful recommendations on how to proceed. The later in the day it becomes, the more alcohol is consumed. This is directly proportional to the complexity and depth of the suggestions.

I locate some spare boat electrical cable I had stashed away in the event of just such a situation. I call to cancel my order in Miami and am told someone will get right back to me!

Breaking out the power drill, portable torch, and a host of other tools I resign myself to the task of finishing this.

On the end of the port side dinghy davit is a piece that will hold the pulley which will raise the dinghy. As I adjust the davits to install the cross beams, which will hold the solar panel the unusual magnetic characteristic of salt water sucks the $28 end cap right off the davit. The cap had to elevate itself 25 degrees and slide upwards over an inch defying gravity.

Youch...

The part makes a satisfying plop in the water. Yes, satisfying… This means that I have donated expensive new parts into the briny deep thereby paying homage to the sea Gods that often request such payment. I do feel better having lost this part.

Something was going into the water. Better this than the $600 solar panel.

The drill comes out and now I have to start making holes in the boat. I drill into the cap rail to feed the wire from above deck to below. This is only accomplished after taking apart the aft stateroom and bunk. The wire has to lead from the panel to under the bunk, past the steering gear, next to the engine shaft, past a host of other electrical goodies and into the engine room and onto the circuit panel.

I did manage to install the charge controller, and it looks pretty darn good if I do say so myself. Lucky I suspect.

Now then, I’m not exactly sure how I did it, but here is the days blood donation. I think I lanced myself with a stiff piece of stainless safety wire I was using to fish the wire up through the hole. It made a nice little puncture wound which should heal without too much difficulty. When I first stabbed myself I let loose with the appropriate cuss words just below audible level.

Solar panel installed!

You know your loved when you immediately hear, “Don’t get any blood on the deck,” from down below. So, that puts me somewhere below a seabass in the pecking order. Fish can bleed on my deck, but I cannot…

It was a good thing as it is only a small donation. Nothing requiring a trip to the nearby emergency room, which makes this donation particularly satisfying. I’ve managed to make the daily project donation without excess injury. Another milestone passed!

Now that I’ve donated brand new parts, lots of sweat, and a bit of blood I can happily continue on with my project, secure in the knowledge that I’ve paid all necessary dues required to safely finish this project.

It was a grand accomplishment. I finished just in time to grab a cold Corona and watch a couple of volts transfer from the panel to the batteries just before the sun set.

Far Reaches, the modern power yacht!

Taking advantage of any opportunity to avoid disaster I jump at the offer to go fishing.

My neighbor, Reed has a rather stately power vessel and is preparing to go to sea. He is looking for volunteers to assist in the seaworthy task of catching fish. We agree.

6am and the preparations are underway. I go to Dunkin Doughnuts to get the glazed ‘energy rings’ and java. Reed heads to the bait shop for, well, bait. The sun rises on time and Reed’s other guests arrive.

We pull away from the dock on a beautiful morning and approach the local drawbridge. We are all noticing a larger than normal population of Box Jellyfish. They have some long tentacles and are plentiful. It would not be a good time to fall in the water.

Box Jellyfish with long stingers~

Dolphins approach and feed nearby. This is always a good sign.

For the last four or five days the weather has been perfect. Today would be the one day this week that the seas decide to play havoc with our fishing plans. We start rolling back and forth and I hear the contents of Reed’s boat begin to shift positions matching the wave action. Nothing too traumatic at this point, just a little uncomfortable. One of the guys comments that he was glad his wife could not make it on this trip as she would have been seasick by now.

We manage to anchor on a reef about eight miles offshore and start fishing. Several small fish are caught pretty quickly. Nothing to keep though as the red grouper were all undersized and the snapper were kind of small as well.

Dolphins love the bow wave

Several storms start merging a bit further out in the Gulf as one small one passes overhead. The boat gets a quick rinse as the waves build. The Captain decides that it’s time to head back in before the larger storms hit us.

Today was a great day. I caught a couple of fish, and was able to avoid the pain and suffering of my pending solar panel installation project. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day for hurting myself…

The difference between fishing and a simple boat ride, bad weather...

Been nowhere in particular

Every now and then a garden variety Florida thunderstorm passes through the area cooling things off for a few hours. The temps are running in the low 90’s with the humidity around 88%. It’s muggy. Small amounts of work will generate large amounts of sweat.

What in the heck are we doing at the marina anyhow?

Unable to answer the above question, we left with the tide. Winds were light and variable. The water is 88 degrees, so perhaps some swimming or diving will have to occur during this trip to nowhere, which is exactly where we were headed. This was a trip without a plan.

You never know who you will run into out here.

We decided to get away from the dock, but were unsure as to where we were headed. We did decide to head basically south. There is a nice place near Lemon Bay (Manasota Beach) to drop the anchor and go sharks teeth diving. I pulled out the chart and found a couple of neat places up along the Manatee River that we have not been to before. Maybe we will go there.

Leaving our marina we were greeted in the Inter Costal Waterway by an old friend of mine. We chatted with John and his wife for a short time as we approached the draw bridge. We tried to plan on going to Egmont Key and spending the night tied up with John. He had to be back to work, so that plan was scrapped. We were screaming along at 5 knots. John was in idle.

I'm just following the bird...

He couldn’t take the slow speeds any longer and soon departed on a plane. We agreed to meet up sometime in the future and spend the evening enjoying sundowner cocktails at the Key. I’m looking forward to that.

Passing the first drawbridge we were faced with which way to go. Turning right (starboard for you sailors) would take us out into the Gulf of Mexico. From there we could head down to the sharks teeth hunting grounds. The only problem with this is that there is no wind. A bit unusual for this time of the year. Nothing to fill the sails with was forecast for the rest of the week according to my marine radio. If we are going anywhere, it will be with the auxiliary engine only. The only thing the sails will be doing this week would be to provide a lot of shade.

We decided to turn left. That would take us through another drawbridge, then under I-275, and into Tampa Bay. Without the wind to drive us along we would have to find someplace closer to go. I don’t like listening to the engine all day and it heats up the boat.

I-275, where all the busy people are

The final decision had been made. Apollo Beach.

We could visit friends, hoist a drink or three at the tiki bar, dinner at Circles Restaurant, and visit with some friends. So that is exactly what we did, not necessarily in that order.

It was all about nothing. No wind, no rain, no chores, no schedule… nothing in particular.

We did have our cocktails, did visit with friends, and had some great food. All as it just happened, nothing planned beyond the next ten minutes or so.

Since we were not in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything in particular, we were compelled to watch Spanish mackerel spawn in Tampa Bay. I don’t believe that they actually cared or not if we were watching. Sheree tossed in a couple of great looking lures into the schools, but nothing would bite. They were busy spawning and running from the occasional opportunistic shark passing by.

Holy mackerel...

We saw lots of sting rays, birds, and a few other passing boats. Nobody appeared to be in much of a hurry as it was a work day for most of the world.

We on the other hand, had nothing in particular to do today, or the next day, or the next…

Do not disturb... busy going nowhere.

After the finish line, our escort into Isla Mujeres

The day passed easily enough sans the big waves. We were actually looked down upon by a pod of dolphins in the crests of the waves above us as. Several large sea turtles scurried out of our way and a handful of Portuguese Man-Of-War jellyfish floated past. A small yellow and brown finch landed in the cockpit. We were 80 miles from shore. Blown away from land on a strong breeze no doubt, and he was very tired.

The sky and sea finally began to calm that afternoon. It had become so nice out that we actually had a hot meal. One of our crew broke out his guitar and made up a few new sea shanty’s for our entertainment. We accompanied him with a kazoo chorus as we all enjoyed the respite.

Taking a look at the beach on the way by

It was the kazoo’s that had angered the god’s, we were sure of it. The winds and waves returned with a vengeance. My midnight watch at the helm gave me new insight into why I really hate lightning at sea. It was not so much the fear of being struck as it was the momentary ability to see in the utter blackness. I was much happier not being able to look at the towering waves and only focus on the gyrating compass while I held course. Kazoo’s are forever banned on my boat.
Yeah buddy, were racing now!
Devoid of current weather information, we decide to stick to our original plan. The winds were forecast (three days ago) to become calm in the Yucatan Channel between Mexico and Cuba, at about the same time the fleet completed the last 50 miles. Coming up from the south through the channel is a strong current. If we head south along the west side of Cuba we can enter the Gulf Stream a little south of Isla Mujeres. While the fleet is foundered and drifting north, we will ride the current to the entrance of Isla and claim victory!

The marina at Isla Mujeres

And it was a fine plan too. Mother Nature had her own agenda however, and decided to let the winds blow for another 12 hours past the scheduled cut off time. Unaware of this bit of weather change caused us to give away most of the time we had greedily procured during the race. The sea givith, and so shall the sea taketh…
We found ourselves crossing the finish line entering Isla Mujeres, Mexico on Monday at 11:57:57, which garnered us third place in our class and eighth place over all. There were over 30 boats in the race. This was pretty darn respectable for a vessel designed to cruise in comfort staffed with an unfamiliar crew at the helm. We were proud of ourselves with good reason. We had cast off our bow lines and set sail from safe harbor. We had explored, we had dreamed, we had arrived.

The marina

Okay I goofed… you have to go to the main webpage and double click the photo there for the larger version, I don’t think you can do it from your email version. (Too much Sol) Stay tuned for part 4…

Heeling over and sailing along

The Elice II is a regular cruising boat, not a racer. The fastest this boat had ever seen in the past was a bit over 9 knots. We laid the Elice II over on her starboard side under full sail. Sitting at the helm you could reach over the lifeline and drag your hand in the water as we were heeling over somewhere around 35-40 degrees. We were being propelled through the water at over 9.5 knots. Combining our speed through the water, and adding in the speed of the current our navigator had found, rewarded us with numbers the GPS had never shown this boat before. 12.4 knots, we were very well pleased with ourselves.
With that much wind however, comes the downside. Waves. Lot of them, lots of very big ones. My turn on the helm that night was both exciting and concerning. I could lean my head back from under the bimini and see the most incredible view of the sky. This is what everyone saw before the light pollution of mankind occluded the night sky. The Milky Way galaxy, I could actually see it with the naked eye. A pulsating light showed me a rotating satellite transiting from one horizon to the next. Shooting stars, I had lost count early on. I had thought celestial navigation too difficult as you do not have enough stars to plot your course by. There had always been plenty; I could see that now that I was away from civilization. I was in awe of the sky.

One of the smaller waves

The waves had increased in size. The tops glowed with phosphorescence as they were blown off by the night winds. By sunrise we were surfing the backside of some of the larger waves. I was happy to be relieved of duty as I wanted to go below for some shuteye. I decided that by being the newest member aboard was how I was able to draw the middle of the night watch. My stomach was growling as I arrived in the galley, my official station aboard. Hanging on and surveying the possible food choices I had decided upon a sandwich. Nothing that required too much preparation or thought as my brain was about as worn out as my body at this point.
I reached into the galley sink and wetted my hands to get all the salt off, and applied a dab of dish detergent to wash up with. About that time the boat departed my small little part of space and time. I did some kind of floating human magic trick. My body departed the port side galley, twisting 180 degrees around and landed upon the starboard side navigation station table. I could hear a loud crash and thud. It was an easy sound to identify as it was I who had made it.

Captain Marlin hanging on

Scratch the sandwich. My main goal was to get to the aft stateroom, lay abeam the bed with my feet halfway up the starboard bulkhead for support. I needed to lay there a while and lick my wounds. I now had some major bruising developing which added to a previously cut knee, (lifeline cotterpin) cut toe, (companionway ladder) bruised shoulder (fell into the binnacle – twice) and a slightly twisted ankle (unknown origin).

Part 3 in a day or two! Stay tuned-

Marty at the helm

Remember, when you subscribe you will get an email from this website. You need to click the link to verify your address to start receiving updates. It prevents us from getting spammed to death…

Oh yeah, double click the photo for a larger version.

Good morning all. For those of you that were following the race via the internet, you saw how well we did. Our arrival, just under one week ago, began a long list of events related to the race. We have also enjoyed all that the island has to offer. Fine dining on authentic food, to diving in some of the most pristine waters I’ve seen in quite some time.

Hard at work on the beach

Tomorrow morning we have to leave this little slice of paradise and return to civilization, assuming it’s still there. I’ve been without news from the outside world for the past 12 days or so. No television, no newspapers, nada. It has been kind of nice leaving the world and all its troubles behind. Maybe I still have a job, maybe not. If unemployed, I could get used to this real easy. Sheree can make beaded necklaces for the tourists and I’ll sell cervesa on the beach. Maybe I’ll just sail around ‘el Carib and see what pops up…

It does not take much to envision life here. I’m looking out between two coconut palms and into the stunningly blue waters of the western Caribbean. The hues are breathtaking. Yesterday Sheree was snorkeling in front of the hotel. Her main complaint was that the water was so clear, and the sun so bright, she needs a dive mask with a polarized lens.

Drinks and dinner!

I’ll be updating the blog regularly after my return to civilization and detail the race for everyone. It was a blast and I’ll go again given the opportunity. I’m off to find an internet connection and send this to the blog. Not an easy task when the other priority has an ice cold Sol (cervesa) while sitting under a beach umbrella… (did I mention that this is a bikini top optional island?)

Don’t tell me how the world is or what has been going on during the last two weeks, I don’t want to spoil today…

The 41st Regata del Sol al Sol is preparing to depart from the Saint Petersburg Yacht Club on Friday morning the 24th, at 1000hrs.  We will be racing from St. Pete Florida to Isla Mujere Mexico, a short 460 nautical miles to the southwest. It will take us about 4 days to get there.

Here is a link to the webpage for more information.

Race tracking page

http://www.mexicorace.com/

I’ll be crewing on the Elise II, which you read about in previous posts. I’ll supply more information in the coming days on who is aboard, and more importantly, how the race is going!

Through the miracle of the internet you will be able to follow the race as it progresses. Go to the link above, on the center of the Mexicorace page you will see a link for tracking the boats with iboat tracking. Just click on the link and enter our boats name, the Elise II.  *You can look at the iboat tracking page now, but not track us, as we are still in port. (you have to wait for the race to start)

We will leave on Friday morning and do our best to have a good showing on our speed run to Mexico. We took the boat out today in Tampa Bay and had a great shakedown cruise. We ran up all the sails, to include the spinnaker, just to make sure everything is in order. The Elise II was then moored at the St. Pete Yacht Club while final preparations are being made.

I’m anxious to get started, it will be a fun run-so stay tuned for the latest updates, and wish us luck!

A woman who can catch fish, clean them, and cook ‘em up: Absolutely PRICELESS!

Sheree and dinner!

(No… sorry… she is not for sale or trade)

It would seem that while I’m overseas on a business trip my lovely wife Sheree has found herself in Key Largo hanging out with her brother, Capt. Robert Lovell. He is a professional backwater fishing guide in the Florida Keys, and my favorite brother-in law.

One of the wonderful benefits is that since we are family, we get to fish for free!

Robert does take some getting used to however. He takes most of the mystery out of fishing. I like to chunk a pretty looking lure out into the clear water. I generally make sure the hook is sharp by seeing how much blood I can draw from my fingers while tying the lure on.

I’ll throw it out, wind it back in and just enjoy the day. Ahhhh ~ Island time, ya mon…

Robert on the other hand, takes the scientific approach. You have to tell him exactly what kind of fish you want, how many, and what size, what color, how long and such, prior to leaving the dock.

You ride along to the ‘spot’ and wait until receiving further instructions. Robert will subsequently point in some direction and firmly state, “There, there he is, do you see it now?”

Capt. Robert Lovell ~ he knows where to go!

Any answer other than, “Yeah, WOW, I see him,” will only reward you with a sneer and look of, ‘you’re such a failure.’

Chunk your lure into the direction indicated, start reeling back in. Adjust your retrieval speed until you no longer hear, “reel it faster damn it,” or “for God’s sake, slow down… you have to let the fish see it!”

Then simply follow the hook setting instructions, “Pull harder, aw come on… you got to set the hook,” or “what are you trying to do, rip his lips off???” You will eventually find the happy medium in there somewhere.

As the fish appears next to the boat Robert will bring it on board. To avoid the ‘you idiot‘ look, make sure you have the appropriate amount of slack on the line, but not too much or you will still get the ‘you idiot‘ look…

Sheree and the baby Sheepshead

Roberts methods do seem to work though. I’ve never caught so many fish in my life as when we are on his boat. I’ve learned a lot from him, he knows where the fish are, and one day…

I’ll even see that fish in the water.

http://www.flkeysflyfishing.com/

By: Nat Manning

After a nice layover in Chub Cay, we cast off on Tuesday, the 10th of February and motored out clear of the reefs off Moma Roda Rock. We unfurled the sail and slowly slid down the underside of the Berry Islands, past an almost submerged cargo ship, and once again onto the shallow Grand Bahama Bank at the Northwest Passage Marker. It was a nice sail and truly an enjoyable experience, though near the end of the day, the wind began picking up and as darkness descended upon us, we dropped anchor southwest of Mackie Shoal near Larks Two Fathom Bridge. The wind and darkness increased together and the night was spent in a pitching boat with the wind howling in the rigging. Not the best of nights spent on the banks, but better than a sharp stick in the eye. 

Morning saw us eager to be on our way and not long after daylight, with breakfast behind us, the engine was running and I was on the bow. We were ready to winch in the anchor and put some miles behind us. I deftly stepped on the button to bring up the anchor but the winch turned without turning the wildcat that pulls the anchor chain. So nothing happened. It was broke. I turned around and attempted to communicate my problem to the Skipper at the controls. He in turn completed a series of hand and arm gestures to communicate to me. The communications became more and more intense as the meanings separated into ones less understood and ones more understood. Finally, in complete frustration, the Skipper grabbed a whip, a baseball bat, and a hat with Mickey Mouse ears, and came storming out on deck to find out what the heck was going on. He rapidly assessed that I had broken the windlass and that getting the anchor up was going to be a real chore.

While I curled up in the fecal position and rocked, the Skipper went down below, found the manual for the windlass, read it, and determined that I had somehow loosened the clutch. He got a screwdriver, tightened the clutch, looked at me as if I were a malignant puss wart, and told me to raise the something or other anchor. He went back to the controls, and I raised the anchor. We were underway, though not at daybreak like we had intended. 

As the light of day increased and the sun climbed clear of the water and into the sky, the wind decreased from the hurricane force that we had enjoyed through the night to ten knots. So light that we had to crank up the iron monster in the bilge and motorsail most of the way back to Bimini, where we were looking forward to something to eat besides my cooking. Our last day on the Bahama Banks was everything we could ask, with calm seas, clear waters, and even an aquatic show by a pod of bottlenose dolphins at the edge of the Bank as we passed through the Bimini chain into the darker deeper waters of the Gulf Stream and skirted the islands back up and into the harbor at Bimini again and into our same spot on the dock at Bimini Blue Water Marina.

There, we met up with some of our Canadian friends who were still waiting for a good weather window from when we were there last time. Which causes me to end this narrative with a story.

Bush made a grave error in not attacking Canada. These people are absolutely dangerous. They travel in naval task forces of sailboats with big grins and a distinct party atmosphere about them. They invade small defenseless islands like Bimini, drink up all the beer, and soak up all of the fun. They take up most of the room at the marinas and anchorages and act as if they had as much right to be there as any other foreigner. Something needs to be done about the Canadian aggression taking place throughout the islands and waterways. I made a serious attempt to infiltrate their ranks and gather intelligence, but found that I lost interest after several Kaliks and a lot of laughing. 

I did attain a dramatic piece of intel of an impending attempt by the Canadian navy to overthrow the government on Bimini. It seems that a dispute had arisen about the dock slip fees they were being charged. They went to the Ministry of Tourism, The Ministry of Business, and were sent to the Bimini division of the Bahamas National Police Force. An appointment was made for the police to show up at the marina office the next day for a confrontation between the marina and the sailors. The whole island went to bed that night with the feeling of electricity in the air at the anticipation of a revolt taking place. Or at least the boaters did.

The next morning sunrise found me in a vantage point with my camera in hand as the Canadian navy approached the battlefield. Upon assembling, they waited. The cops never showed. The marina people didn’t show for several hours. Nobody with any authority from the marina showed at all. Time passed. The revolution lost momentum. Everybody lost interest. Everybody eventually paid their bills and left. The Whole Canadian / Bahamian War was very anticlimactic. That’s the way wars are fought on island time. 

With the Canadian Navy having pulled out, it was a quiet day and last night in Bimini. I will miss the Canadians, the Bahamians, and our fellow cruisers that proudly fly the Stars and Bars. There’s no need to tell you how sad it is to me to say goodbye to the Bahamas, the people, the islands, the water, and the spirit that hangs over the whole ménage like a living picture of a paradise world that we can visit, but never possess. Home is forty-five miles away across the Gulf Stream. This is it. This is the end of our island adventure and the beginning of our voyage home. Home to the people we love and miss.

By: Nat Manning

Leaving Nassau Harbor consists of a rapid transition from the quiet calm of the seaport to the deep ocean swells of the Tongue of the Ocean. From calm to six foot waves in just a few minutes. From the forty feet of the ship channel through the cut, to over three thousand feet of the Tongue in less than a mile. From inshore to blue water in less time than it takes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. 

While sailing through plunging six foot waves and 25 knots of wind broad off the starboard quarter, I didn’t pay as much attention to Nassau growing smaller and sinking astern as I wanted to.

Leaving port always divides me between the regret of leaving the safe port that I’ve grown to love, and the excitement of sailing off the edge of the world, over the horizon, to a new and exciting destination that promises magic and mysteries waiting to be discovered. I was abruptly snatched from my reverie by the Skipper screaming, “Stop that driveling before I nail your lips to the boom again!”

Though rough, the forty mile voyage from Nassau to Chub Cay in the Berry Islands went very well and quickly. The barren ruggedness of the rocky islands perched at the north edge of the deep abysmal tongue was not lost on the Skipper as we skirted past the famous landmark islands of Whale Cay, Fraziers Hog, Moma Roda, and Diamond Rocks. 

Approaching The inlet at Chub Cay, the Skipper cranked the engine and furled the sails only moments before I crapped in my pants. Though the charts indicated waters to shallow, we followed some of the few navigation aids in the Bahamas into the canal of the marina without ever seeing less than nine feet of water. It has been so long now since we’ve been aground that we are discussing looking for a sand bar to plow into.

Entering the canal into the marina, the sailors world transpires from rugged natural to smooth modern manmade protection as you inter the marina basin from the concrete wall lined canal. Inside, the modern marina has new floating concrete docks and slips with all the class of any three star resort facility. Looking around at the nicest marina we have seen this whole trip, the Skipper got a real dreamy look on his face that frightened me a little bit. In a choked, raspy voice, he said, “We’re staying over here an extra day!”

Chub Cay Marina is a true hurricane hole that would provide complete protection in any weather except a hurricane. Though the wind howled outside and heavy surf pounded the harsh rocky shore, we spent the stillest and quietest night I think of our whole trip. The next day, the Skipper rented a golf cart for the day and we explored the whole island, even visiting the international airport located at the north end of the island. I didn’t get pictures of the airport, but just insert the pictures of the Bimini Airport, it’s close enough.

We became good friends with Harry, the bartender in “Harry’s Bar” and enjoyed the beauty and hospitality of the island. I took lots of pictures, then found a brochure book of the island with better pictures than the ones I took, go figure. Chub Cay is a beautiful place and comes highly recommended for it’s beauty and secluded beaches. 

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On Wednesday, February 4, 2009 Elise II arrived in Nassau around five o’clock in the morning. As the Skipper tided up the boat and secured all the equipment from the overnight passage, I (Gilligan) spent most of the day in the bunk sleeping, much to the chagrin of the Skipper. After sufficient rest, and thinking that the Skipper must have completed all of the hard work, I roused and readied myself for a very important mission.

A couple of years ago, while cruising aboard my trusty ship Snap One with my dear sweet Mom, we had stopped in Nassau for reprovisioning enroute to the Exumas. While there, my dear Mother was possessed by a voodoo demon and drawn into the clutches of a place known by locals and cruisers as “The Poop Deck”. She was wickedly seduced into the consumption of conch fritters and a dangerous island rum fruit drink called a “Yellow Bird”.

Mom quickly descended into a pit of decadence, consumed by conch fritters and yellow birds. She required constant supervision and disappeared everytime I turned my back, only to be found at the Poop Deck, eating and drinking herself into a stupor. She often created a scene as she was being drug out of the place and back to the boat. It was almost as if she had been abducted by a cult. She was only cured through several months of sea therapy in the out islands.

Anyway, upon hearing that I was returning to Nassau, she made me promise to go to the Poop Deck and have an order of conch fritters and a yellow bird for her. So, I prepared myself and set out to the Poop Deck to fulfill my obligation and have an order of conch fritters and a yellow bird in honor of my Mother, which I did.

The Bahamas produce a beer known as Kalik, which looks and tastes a lot like good quality beers found in America. It needs to be warned though that it is stronger than American beer and if not respected accordingly, will cause impaired faculties and abnormal behavior such as singing loudly and dancing alone with no music.

I have to admit that several times while in Nassau, I fell victim to the ill effects of Kalik Beer. After exhaustive research, I determined that the two best places in Nassau to imbibe the cold bubbly amber foamy fluid is The Poop Deck and The Green Parrot. The Poop Deck is actually shown on some nautical charts. The Green Parrot is next to BASRA (Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association) and both places have dinghy docks. It is a good idea to go ahead and enroll in an alcohol program before you leave so that you can check right in upon your return. Three more classes and I’ll be finished.

It’s a place some people hate, with all the hustle bustle of a busy large seaport. It has all the trash, crime, dirt, and chaos that you will find in every big city. I can’t wait to get back there again. In many ways, New Providence Island really hasn’t changed all that much from the days that Edward Teach (Blackbeard), Jack Rackam, Mary Reed, and Anne Bonnie, as well as many other pirates anchored and docked roamed, drank and partied in the exactly same places that sailors do today. I feel priviledged to walk the same streets and sidewalks. To spit off the same seawalls as so many sailors before me. On Sunday, the 8th of February, we left Nassau and part of my heart after a much too short 4 days. As the island slowly sinks into the ocean astern, I look forward to someday returning.

The intrepid crew of the mighty ship Elice II had arrived in Bimini on the 28th day of January, 2009. The last day of January was a sad day aboard Elice II as it was the Admirals last day with us. We rode the water taxi and caught the jitney to the airport to see her off. She was a great shipmate and will be greatly missed.

The Skipper informed me that with the Admiral gone, all the responsibility fell upon him now and on occasion, I might have to flog myself. That night we dined with uncharacteristic silence aboard on beef stew and rice. Things are not going to be the same from here on out. I fear that discipline will suffer. 

On Tuesday the 3rd of February, the Skipper and I cast off at 0800hrs eastern standard time and raised the mainsail as we steamed out of the harbor into a strong west wind and 6 to 8 foot seas. Turning south along the coast the Skipper ordered the engine shut down and we sailed down the coast of Bimini, retracing our route. Upon passing onto the Grand Bahama Bank and through the Turtle Rocks, the large ocean waves were left behind and we sailed on the smooth quiet waters of the bank with the bottom clearly in sight. Rounding the waypoint off Cat Cay, we unfurled the jib and were soon flying along at speeds sometimes hitting 8 knots. The bottom of the ocean, a mere ten feet below us appeared to be flying by at great speed.

We had drug the green skirt down the Gulf of Mexico, across the Gulf Stream, and it seemed appropriate to string it out and continue our trolling program.

The day seemed to slip by all too quick and with the sun low in the Western sky, the Skipper ordered the main furled and we continued under the jib alone at 5 to 6 knots. Darkness settled over us, but the moving map and radar kept us safe and on course as we plowed through the night. I passed the whole day without a flogging, see, discipline is already slipping. Around 2200hrs, we sailed past the Northwest Channel Light and watched the depth sounder go from twenty feet to off soundings within a mile as we sailed off the bank and into the Tongue of The Ocean. 

As I had napped during the day in my cabin to the Skippers “lazy sea scum!” the Skipper went down for a short rest as we were in deep water and he mumbled something like “even an idiot can run the boat out here.” So, suddenly, I am the Officer of the Watch! Gliding along in the night with the autohelm steering, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I told myself to relax, “nothing can go wrong out here!”

Then I saw a spot on the radar out around 15 miles where nothing should be. I tried wiping the spot off with a towel. Thirty minutes later I saw lights ahead and the spot on the radar had moved! Oh Turds! A ship was coming directly at us. I tagged the ship with the cursor the way the Skipper had taught me and the MARPA window told me that the ship would pass one quarter mile off my port side. I touched the button on the autopilot and the radar now said that the ship would pass one half mile off the left side. That was much better. I watched the behemoth pass through my binoculars and wondered what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight. I politely asked the autopilot to turn back on course, but then I saw more lights ahead and the radar confirmed that they were coming toward me too. I turned back away from the rhumb line and watched the mega yacht pass, wondering what gourmet meal was being served in their dining room tonight. I was about to turn back on course when I noticed another target on the radar and half an hour later watched another freighter pass off our port side, wondering what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight.

Soon, with all the traffic behind us, I was headed to rejoin the rhumb line when the Skipper came back on deck and immediately saw that we were off course. After the flogging, I told him I had deviated for traffic. He looked around and said, “What traffic?” He flogged me again for lying. He is a fine Skipper and is determined to make a sailor out of me. 

The turn toward Nassau as we came off the Great Bahama Bank put the wind directly off the stern, but as we were in the lee of the Berry Islands, the seas were calm and the ride good. About two in the morning when we cleared the Berry Islands though, the seas started running pretty high. It was hard to tell in the dark. The Skipper said they were running about six feet, but I think it was more like thirty six. With the wind on the stern, the sail was not providing any roll stability and the mighty ship began to roll from side to side as she sailed along straight as an arrow at 6 knots and greater. The ride was very uncomfortable and we could hear crashes below as the contents of the cabins began to scramble themselves again as they had back in the Gulf Stream. Our arrival time at the sea buoy at Nassau Harbor was at five in the morning, so we had three hours to hang on as our vessel ran for New Providence Island like a runaway horse. 

At a little after four in the morning with the lights of Nassau clearly in sight and the boat still rolling violently at six and a half knots, I went to reel in the green skirt, only to discover that a fish was pulling hard on it in the other direction. The Skipper gave me a look that would freeze seawater. I began fighting the fish as I tried to hang on for dear life in the rolling cockpit. After what seemed like forever, I was soaked with sweat in spite of the coldness of the night at sea. I had caught a monster of a fish that must have been 10 feet long, even though the skipper says it was only 3 feet long. With the whale up to the boat we went back to navigating the boat through the ship channel into the quiet stillness of the sheltered waters of Nassau Harbor. It was still pitch dark and all the shore lights were blinding. We could barely see the cruise ship docks as we slipped past, furling the sails and becoming a motor vessel. At this point, we had drug the poor fish till he was very unhappy. I reeled him up and tried to lift him into the cockpit, but he was just too heavy and the line broke. With the ship underway in a dark harbor, losing the fish was the best thing that could have happened to us at that time. We crept through the darkness, under the Paradise Island bridges, and landed on the outside dock at Nassau Yacht Haven Marina, tying up and securing the boat as the sky turned grey in the East. I went to my bunk to get some rest as the Skipper straightened up the boat and did all the work. Later that afternoon, he flogged me for an hour. We have completed another great passage in our epic adventure. Can we have a moment of silence for the loss of the green skirt? Stay tuned for the next episode.

Bimini deserves it’s own article. Why? Because Bimini is a very special place. In essence, it really isn’t that much to look at. Most baseball players can stand in the water on one side of North Bimini and hit a ball into the water on the other side of North Bimini. The island only has two roads. One that runs up the west side, and the main road that runs up the east side. They are only a small block apart. As a tourist, you could actually arrive late, see everything on the island, leave, and get home before supper. It’s hard to put your finger exactly on what makes Bimini special, but it’s a feel that the place has. It’s like a frontier town perched at the edge of the Gulf Stream. You almost imagine that John Wayne and Clint Eastwood could suddenly step out of the End Of The World Bar, or the Bimini Breeze, and have a shootout in the street while wearing flip flops and flower printed shirts.

You can feel the presence of Papa Hemingway in everything you touch on the island. Though his old digs, the Complete Angler has recently burned down, many pictures of Papa and his fish catches still adorn many walls, yellowed and fading. The fireplace chimney is still standing amidst the ruins and you can’t help looking at the fireplace and imagining Hemingway and the many colorful characters that surely sat in front of it as the weather roared and moaned outside.

The End of the World Bar is one of the most despicable places I have ever been in with a sand floor, rough plank benches in front of a rough plank bar. The place has rendered a certain softness though its walls, and the ceiling is literally covered with women’s underclothing that has been signed, dated, and tacked up, giving it a very homey feel. There is word that the End of the World may be coming to the end of its world. I certainly hope not, but am trying to arrange providing a good home for all the panties and bras.

The Bimini Breeze is another must stop as it is the digs of Mr. Yama Bahama. To enlighten you, Mr. Yama Bahama was born in Bimini and as an early man was flown to Miami where he trained as a boxer by some dude that trained lots of famous boxers, some you would recognize. He went on to box in New York, Chicago, some places in Europe, you get it, in the early 1900′s he was a quite successful boxer. At the time this is being written, he is 76 years old, has boxing pictures and memorabilia all over the walls, and serves Kalik Beer so ice cold that you can’t drink it fast. He is an interesting, colorful character and tells great stories about boxing and growing up in early Bimini. 

The Anchorage Restaurant is owned and operated by Miss Betty and besides serving good food and drinks; she is a very nice and colorful character, though a bit refined for the likes of Gilligan.

Hang with me; this is not an advertisement campaign or even an endorsement. I do have to mention that we ate breakfast every morning at Capt Bobs as it was right across from the marina.

A walk south along the main road past the End of the World takes you through the old Chalks Airline ramp and ticket terminal. Sad to see that that era is now past and gone forever. Don’t stop, you have to continue south to the very tip of the island, then up the West coast. A trip to the island isn’t complete till you visit the rusting remains of a little island freighter that got blown onto the rocks during a storm. You can get almost close enough to touch it without getting wet. It is just too cool. 

At the government dock you can catch the water taxi across to South Bimini where the jitney will take you to the Bimini International Airport. This is worth looking at if you are very, very, bored. It is a little one runway strip carved out of the mangrove jungle with a small parking area and a little concrete apron. The terminal building is sparse and archaic and it kind of comes as a surprise when this almost deserted airport with no control tower has a Continental Commuter land to discharge adventurous passengers and pick up those looking to escape the numbing peacefulness of the Bimini Islands.

The people of Bimini are as special as their island. They are warm, friendly, and genuinely glad that you are there. The island has lived with a boom ebb rhythm since the days the islanders settled here. The ebb of sponging gave way to the boom of rum running during prohibition to the ebb after the repeal of the liquor ban. The island boomed again during the heyday of the big game fishermen, but that too passed. There was another boom during the drug smuggling days of the seventies, but that too has mostly become history. The island seems to be in ebb now, but the Biminites are maintaining their island time stride and are content to await the next boom, whatever it may be. If you take your time and listen, you can feel the vibrations of the past, present, and future in the tropical breeze that incessantly blows across the beautiful people and island of Bimini, The Island in the Stream.

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