THE THREE SLUGS

Rodriguez Key, FL 24º03.523N | 80º27.254W

Dropping anchor west of Boot Key.

We left the mooring in Boot Key Harbor yesterday midafternoon to fuel up, fill the water tank, and then anchor off the west end of Boot Key for an easy takeoff this morning. All good.

As we approached the dock at Burdine's Marina, it was clear we were with wind and current. Bad. (Lesson learned on several occasions: Don't do it.) So we opted to turn around. Bad. Actually the decision was good. The spot was bad.

The current funnels right at the marina, and as soon as we were broadside, the wind and current started carrying us right toward this:

Chip did a masterful job of keeping us from hitting anything, even though we tried to hit a lot of things. At one point, our bow inched out just missing that schooner bowsprit.

I was making my way around the deck, ready to fend off anything that came my way, but I never had to push off.

If you look really, really close, like I did, you'll see that the very tip of that bowsprit has a red star on it. From the bow, I gave it a little squeeze -- without even reaching very far. Yep, that close. YIKES.

So, we never did get turned around there. We went all the way down to the end of the channel and came all the way back, pulled up to the dock pretty as you please, against wind and current. Good.

The fuel was expensive. They charged us for water. We took our 'free' ice, but it made the refrigerator unit freak out (still not sure why), so we turned it off for the night and now have an enormous glob of ice in there. Bad juju on that stop.

We anchored mostly uneventfully, although not restfully, and left early. Cara Mia felt like a slow-moving walrus. The engine, what little we used it, was sluggish.

The water was pleasantly smooth with 2-3 foot waves, wind was decent, 14-18 knots, more than predicted (imagine that, she says sarcastically). In this case, a misprediction worked in our favor!

This boat sails much better with minimal heel, so we put a reef in (shortened the mainsail) about midday. It was blowing just short of where we could point, so we had to tack south, backtracking a little, every 5 miles or so. Cara Mia did great. Her crew was tired, fumbling around, tripping, oversteering on tacks (me), never satisfied with sail trim (Chip). Once a jib sheet (rope) caught a boat hook, and I had to stop mid-tack while Chip went forward to retrieve it, jib lines flying all around his head. The dinghy slowly deflated as the day got cooler, loosening the straps and moving about.

It took us just over 11 hours to go 45 nautical miles, slow enough to cause a murderous road rage for some, a slow sail with no engine to us.

Rodriguez Key, home for the night.

We are anchored in Rodriguez Key on clear, placid water. We lowered the dinghy to inflate it, and, while we were at it, have a look at the prop.

No wonder we had such a hard time turning around in wind and current! Chip will be up first light to scrape Boot Key stowaways off the prop for there will certainly be some motoring tomorrow if the wind prediction is right. Ha.

Pre-reefing. Hot dogs anyone?

*love*

Our chichi Rodriguez neighborhood. Anchored next to a Trumpey (I think).

GOODNIGHT, MARATHON

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

It's time to head north just as the wind is laying down in the Keys, making for perfect snorkeling conditions. Sigh. Ah, well, Key West and the Dry Tortugas must wait for another voyage.

Money beckons, so we're off to Fort Lauderdale where Chip will be doing his wine thing.

A month of howling wind has kept me on task with my writing pursuits, where I have made some real strides with some freelance editing, a potential magazine column (more on that later) and continued progress on my book and book proposal.

We plan to anchor west of Boot Key (Marathon) tonight and head out at first light, destination: Rodriguez Key. Since we came south on the 'inside' (the shallow water between the Keys and the mainland), we're sailing 'outside' up Hawk Channel on the ocean side. The plan as it stands will be to raise anchor in the wee hours and sail into Fort Lauderdale Saturday afternoon with a boost from the Gulf Stream and the last wisps of wind for a few days.

We'll probably be out of Internet range until Saturday, so stay tuned for how those plans played out. There are a lot of options along the way.

It will be great fun to get some wind in the sails and water moving under the keel before it's back to work in Fort Lauderdale.


BLOG FRIENDS: We are looking for a place to keep Cara Mia for the two+ months we'll be in Fort Lauderdale. So far, the most economical options we've found are anchoring in Lake Sylvia or picking up a city mooring ball. If you have contacts or know of a private slip we might rent, please use our contact form to let us know. Thank you!

ROMANTIC DEFROSTING

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

A marine refrigerator offers an unwelcome bit of time travel back to the days of defrosting the freezer, drudgery nearly forgotten in our culture. Thank goodness.

I've tried all the various theories for speeding up defrosting, including a blow dryer, pans of steamy water, salt, saltwater, finally falling back on the hardest but most effective: patience. It was always a 12-24 hour ordeal.

So, last time when I had my head down in the freezer complaining loudly, Chip says, "Just put a candle in there."

And would you believe, it defrosted in about two hours, not even long enough for the refrigerator compartment to warm up much.

Quick.

Easy.

Brilliant! Thanks, Chip.

OVERSEAS BIKE PATH

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

Some people really know how to leave a mark. In Florida his name is Flagler. I wrote about him when we were in St. Augustine, but all along the state Henry Flagler's name keeps coming up. Pretty amazing for a guy who died almost 100 years ago.

One of his last undertakings was a fanciful one: constructing a railway to Key West.

The Keys: That strip of islands sprouting off the southern tip of Florida.

The Keys, a coral archipelago, or a string of unconnected islands, are 127 miles long, and Flagler decided to build railroad bridges across open ocean between the islands, the longest one seven miles. Even today that sounds like a bad idea. Skeptics dubbed it Flagler's Folly, but he did it, making the first run himself in 1912.

That longest stretch, now known as Seven Mile Bridge, has been replaced by a modern expanse, but most of Flagler's version still stands. Part of it has been removed to allow people like us to pass through on sailboats.

And 2.2 miles of it, from the western edge of Boot Key to Pigeon Key is open to pedestrian and bicycle traffic, so Chip, Karen (Jessie Marie) and I rode our bikes out over the ocean to have a look.

Pigeon Key where railroad workers were housed.

Their metal rusted too, but 100 years? Not bad.

Looking east toward Boot Key.

The railroad to Key West was never financially viable but ran until 1935 when a hurricane came barreling through, like they do, and took part of it down near Islamorada, east of Boot Key. Many of the bridges and their underpinnings were used to build the Overseas Highway, opened in 1938, that allows you to drive your car to Key West.

ENJOYING THE TIME

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

Team Dogfish Head

The first chapter of the book I'm writing about cruising is titled, "I Know Squat." Even it were just a list of the things I now know that I didn't know, it would be a book on its own. For example, when I started out cruising, I thought it would be a solitary undertaking, you know, me and Chip wandering about on our own. If you've been reading along since the beginning of this blog, you know this is almost laughably wrong. We were not 48 hours into cruising before we started making new friends on the water, friends that have wandered in and out of our lives for the last year and half. (Speaking of them, I recently updated the Blog Log of our new waterborne friends.)

I'm so happy to be wrong.

We met Dale and Karen on Jessie Marie only two weeks after leaving home, and they have been all over this blog since then, our constant fellow adventurers for more than a year when we parted waves in early January. As I mentioned last week, they totally surprised us by 'popping in' from Cuba.

We're cramming in good times with them before Cara Mia points north and Jessie Marie heads back out (unless we can entice them to come with us). Ideally, all our sail plans will bring us back together somewhere in the Caribbean next year.

The boats are slow and the Caribbean is big, but so far Jessie Marie and Cara Mia have proven quite capable of showing up in the same harbor!

WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

When you throw yourself into something new, like sailing full time, for instance, you never know how it will turn out. Will you love it or hate it? Is it what you thought it would be? The number one question we fielded about our plans was: What if you don't like it? 

When we sold the wine shop in 2010, we put away an untouchable nest egg and, with the rest, we gave ourselves a gift for fulfilling our 5-year plan: one year of cruising without worrying about income.

And what a year it was. Simply fabulous. We learned enough to fill a book (more on that later) including, most importantly, that this life fits us like a wetsuit (and it's just as hard to get on).

So we've paused for a few months to start some new business ventures to finance our new wetsuit, I mean, life.

Chip is channeling 30 years of experience in the wine business in two directions, one of them you can read about on his website: winetheater.blogspot.com

He has some wine gigs planned in southern Florida in April and May, so we'll be floating around in these lovely environs until June.

For my part, I have my nose in a computer 6+ hours a day writing two (!) books about cruising as well as some freelance writing and editing.

The plan, always to be taken with a grain of sea salt, is to keep Cara Mia in Brunswick, Georgia, during hurricane season, June through October. You'll just have to stay tuned to find out what great things we'll be doing during that time!

After hurricane season, we'll be poised in southern Georgia to set off on a new aquatic adventure. Hope you'll be coming along....

SIGHTS IN MARATHON

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

A 'conch' (as Keys locals are called).

Not Conchs yet.

Seen in the ladies' room at a local bar.

Get it? Ugh.

Exhibit from the American History Museum.

And finally, as we wait out another blow this week, here's a video showing why you should never anchor near a shallow draft boat. Notice the other boats steadily pointing into the wind while he's flying all over the place.

A 'sailing' powerboat in a 20+ knot blow.

HAPPY DAY!

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

photo by Chip

We woke this morning, planning to run a few errands and then drop in on the Marathon Seafood Festival. Ho hum.

Then the phone beeped with a new text message.

WHAT?!?!?!? Karen and Dale can't text us from Cuba.

Jessie Marie was anchoring about 100 yards west of us in Boot Key Harbor, fresh in from Cuba. Really? No, really????

The best surprise ever.

Sorry this is blurry. I think the camera was crying...

YOU MAKE THE CALL

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

UPDATE: March 18
The marina has included tile for the showers in its new budget still waiting approval by the City Council. Perhaps there will be improvements soon! Somebody send me new photos when that happens....


In Boot Key Harbor, cruisers host a morning gab session on the VHF called The Net. Announcements, introductions, goodbyes, buy/sell/trade, trivia. It's lighthearted and fun. Usually.

This week there's been some snarking about the condition of the bathrooms at the city marina -- the bathrooms associated with the moorings here. Some think they are hideous and unsanitary. Others say they've "seen worse."

I'd love to start a website that have photos of marina bathrooms and showers. It would be great to know in making selections. Here's the first round. You make the call.

Marathon City Marina

These photos make it look slightly worse than the reality. There is always plenty of hot water, and the fixtures, and shower curtains are relatively clean.

But I wonder where those who've seen worse did their time? Would you shower here?

MUSIC IS HER NAME

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

I have my ship
And all her flags are a flyin'
She is all that I have left
And music is her name.

Southern Cross, Stephen Stills, Richard Curtis and Michael Curtis

Of all the threads that bind us together, music is one of the most enduring -- and endearing.

Music made a 30-year arc this week in the Keys.

After several near misses over the years, we finally got together with Chip's friend from high school, Mike Dann, who plays music in Montauk, NY, in the summer and in the Keys in the winter.

Mike spent an evening with us on Cara Mia, reminiscing with Chip, filling in 30 years of blank pages. We ambled through tales of high school antics, aging parents, unrequited love and the finer details of harmonica theory. We talked and laughed into the night, shedding a few tears along the way.

Tonight, Chip and I took a one-hour bus ride to Sugarloaf to hear Mike play in the tiki hut at Sugarloaf Lodge. He is a sweet, sweet soul, and I could tell you that he has a sweet, sweet voice to match. I could also tell you that he and Chip played together as if the 30 years that have passed since their last gig was only 30 minutes. But I don't have to. Even on this crude video taken with my little underwater camera, you can hear for yourself.

A LOVELY AND CURIOUS DAY

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

I've rarely lingered in places or jobs where each day passes much the same as the last. One of my favorite things in life is the absolute certainty that I'm uncertain what will happen today.

Today was a great example of how cruising delivers rich and varied themes.

I started the morning by zipping off to a free yoga class taught by a fellow cruiser at the tiki hut on shore.

We then took the dinghy a mile south from our mooring to the beautiful Sombrero Beach.

Where we tried out our new tiny dinghy anchor.

Okay, I see now I need something for scale.

The day was warm, the water too. Perfect for a swim while we kept a wary eye on a sailboat hard aground in the Sister Creek channel.

We watched from the beach as boat after boat stopped and tried to help the poor sailors get free.

(Please don't use that channel. Come in on the west end of Boot Key Harbor near the 7-Mile Bridge, not so deep itself, but well traveled.)

As we were heading back to the boat, we took a dinghy tour of the gorgeous houses along the manmade canals here.

Palaces, really.

As we headed back up Sister Creek, the dinghy engine died. On two pulls, it started right back up and then, phhhbbbbt. Died again. We would go about 100 yards, and the same thing would happen.

The last time, we were within 300 yards of the mooring field but still adrift. A small skiff with a motley crew aboard stopped to offer assistance. We thanked them but declined. They came over anyway to regale us of their recent exploits helping a sailboat off the bottom -- yes, the very one in our photo above.

They threw us a line and insisted on pulling us back to Cara Mia, talking the whole way. The line holder, named Travis, has a small sailboat and hopes to sail south at his first opportunity. In this case, I believe opportunity = $.

Duly delivered, we showered and made cocktails to prepare for our second Boot Key Harbor sunset. As the sun dipped, the requisite conch horns started to sound. (NOTE: Conch blowing at sunset is an island tradition. See what it sounds like on this random youtube video.) But off in the distance, a horn of a different stripe echoed.

I looked at Chip. "Is that a saxophone???"

Indeed it was. Chip got out a harmonica and answered back. Soon we jumped in the dinghy and went in search of the beautiful tenor saxophone wafting through the harbor.

The strains were coming from a boat only two mooring balls to the north of us, and, would you believe it? The boat was a Downeast, just like our last boat Isabella!

We were invited aboard by Captain Marty, the sax player, and Lenny, his Russian crew, and spent a delightful hour listening, well, me and Lenny, to Chip and Marty exchanging solos to Eric Clapton Unplugged and then Sade. Between songs, Lenny and I chatted, discovering quite coincidentally that he had spent a summer docked at tiny Mobjack Bay Marina where we were last summer. Curious.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

THIS IS WHY

Marathon, FL 24º42.366N | 81º5.669W

Back when I was an armchair cruiser, I daydreamed about days like today.

Our plan was to leave Islamorada and make the 35nm passage to Marathon along the "inside," which refers to the shallow bank north of the keys rather than "outside" or the ocean side. We contemplated waiting another day but wanted to get to Marathon well ahead of the blow that's predicted for the weekend.

We raised anchor at 7:45 a.m. and raised the sails soon thereafter. Our southwest course was beautifully complemented by a south wind predicted to be in the 5-10 knot range but happily blew more to 13-15 knots.

Head over heeled.

Cara Mia skimmed along over ripply smooth water that made us wonder if we somehow woke up in the Bahamas.

Seven straight hours we skittered along at 6+ knots, lightly heeled, making only one short tack to adjust our course to pass under the 7-mile bridge, then one more to head back north into Boot Key Harbor.

It's days like this that remind us why we're sailors. Free as the wind with free wind for fuel.

House on a hill or just under sail?

Out my kitchen window.

Contemplative contentment.

FRIEND WEEK

Islamorada Key, FL 24º55.55N | 80º38.18W

We woke up this Thursday morning in a stunningly peaceful Thursday Cove. Our night was dark (no Coconut Grove/Miami lights), dead calm, cool and just plain perfect. Aaaahhh.

As we headed south toward Islamorada, we heard, "Cara Mia, Cara Mia, Kajon," on the VHF. Our dear friends Joe and Deb on Kajon were heading north to the very spot we were targeting.

The Kajons headed to shore.

It was great to see them and their passenger, Dave, from Password, who we met along the ICW last year.

(Another thing we heard on the VHF today: Coast Guard, Coast Guard. This is Sea Dog reporting verbal threats from fishing vessel Praise the Lord. We have a family with children aboard!)

One of the gratifying things about cruising is the ability to visit friends along the way -- or sometimes to happen into the same place at the same time. This happened last week in Miami, when our friends Paul and Susannah and their son Townes from Kill Devil Hills were in town for the sailboat show.

Great to see them!

Love you, Townes!!

Chartering with Townes five years ago in the British Virgin Islands.