TAKEN BY STORM

Lake Worth, Palm Beach, FL N 26º 45.964 | W 80º 2.667

A lightning-filled squall chasing us into Nassau.

If you read our logbook for the past two months, it tells a lovely story, island hopping through the Berrys and Exumas. Perfect destinations that evoke turquoise dreams. And that is a true story.

If you look at our beautiful photos, the story is a little different. It was a turbulent weather season in the Bahamas this spring, with storm fronts constantly on the move. We had less than 10 days where the weather didn't dictate our movement.

We ducked into the all-around protection of Warderick Wells so many times, we started calling the entrance our driveway. Fortunately for us, it's one of our favorite spots in the northern Exumas and offers calm nights and lots of activities no matter the weather.

Squall line north of Warderick Wells.

The weather gurus kept predicting an end to the storm fronts.

"Next week, we'll start getting settled weather..."

The squall that chased us from Hawksbill to Shroud Cay.

We eventually got weary of rolly anchorages and the high stakes running dodge, so we decided to head back to Florida, where it's easier to find protection.

On our way from the northern Exumas to Nassau, a squall stalked us. I thought I was outrunning it, but I think it just fell apart.

Then on our ride north, the New Providence Channel was all bumpy from gusty wind the day before. On our first attempt at crossing to the U.S., we went north off the bank at Great Harbor and turned back rather than facing unpredicted 20-knot wind and annoying swell.

The next day, we sailed west instead of north, across the Bahama Bank in lovely following wind and seas topped by a riot of stars and a bright swath of Milky Way.

By dawn, we left the bank and entered a confused Gulf Stream where rolling swell, 4 to 6 feet, came at us from behind and on the starboard side. There was not enough wind to keep us stable, but for the Gulf Stream, it was not so bad.

As we approached our destination, Lake Worth, the weather reared its head again. Squalls surrounded us on all four sides.

When I looked to starboard and saw a waterspout, I screamed right out loud, "PLEASE, JUST LET US PASS!!!"

Waterspout dropping from the clouds.

Oddly, old Mom Nature listened. One of the squalls dissipated and the others skittered off.

There was but one more bit of weather before we ducked safely into inland waters.

As we came within 10 miles of the Lake Worth Inlet, an offshore squall kicked the wind up from the east. At the inlet it was pushing the water into big 6-foot rollers marching in at short intervals on an incoming tide. Had we missed our target arrival time, the tide would have turned, leaving us to stand off until either the water laid down or the tide turned again.

Instead, we rode in at a galloping trot and finally dropped anchor just inside the inlet on a perfectly smooth Lake Worth.

We live at Mother Nature's whim, and sometimes she's a harsh mistress. But on her good days, she's such a charmer. She blessed us with many perfect days to explore new islands with friends old and new. Photos to come!

One last volley at Great Harbor the night before we left.

HAPPY REUNION

Lake Worth, FL 26º50.357N | 80º03.238W

Is the timer working????

Chip called his best friend from high school today.

"We're in Palm Beach, where are you?" he asked.

Ed and his wife Crystal live in central Florida, about 200 miles away from where we are anchored in Palm Beach. As it turns out, they are in Boynton Beach for a family reunion, 25 miles south of us!

They buzzed over to pick us up from our dinghy "dock."

We spent the day lolling at the Rizzo house in Boynton, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones, soaking up some air conditioning.

Ed and Crystal dropped us off with hugs and kisses and a big pan of meatballs and lasagna. We have a good life.

Chip, Ed, Crystal and me.

THE BRIDGED VERSION

Lake Worth, FL 26º50.357N | 80º03.238W

Impatient people should not be sailors. For traveling north, we had these two options:

1. Wait for a good weather window to go offshore. With a tropical storm developing east of Georgia, that might be a week. It might mean waiting two weeks, which requires a great deal of patience.
2. Start moving north on the ICW through the gauntlet of bridges in south Florida. The first day from Lake Sylvia to Lake Boca, we traveled 17 miles in 8 hours through 8 bridges, which requires immense patience.

Today's trip was much easier but still meant going through 11 bridges in 29.7 miles. We made it in 8 hours!

The first set of bridges yesterday opened on a time schedule, which is why it took so darned long. I don't know who decides the timing, but they certainly aren't sailors. We couldn't make it between bridges for the next opening and were often left to crawl at 2 knots or less to get there at the right time. If not, we had to do the bridge dance, idling, spinning, reversing until time for the bridge to open.

Today, the Friday before the Memorial Day weekend, was a good reminder of why we don't travel on the ICW on weekends, especially holiday weekends. In the afternoon, the amateurs started hitting the water on various types of watercraft, running around willy nilly, completely oblivious to the rules of the road.

I can remember using our warning horn only once in two years. Today I had to use it twice.

First, I was doing the idle dance, waiting for a bridge opening when a trawler passed under the bridge and pointed right at me. He kept coming closer and closer and closer. Getting our boat moving is akin to pushing a refrigerator still in its box. When the trawler was about 20 yards away and still pointed at me, I started honking and threw the boat into gear. He was coming at my port (left) side, so I had to decide in a flash whether to turn to port (without knowing if there was traffic coming around him and risking his overcorrection, turning INTO me) or turn to starboard where, fortunately, I had some deep water but would still be in his general path. I chose starboard when another horn blared from the power boat coming up behind me. He saw quickly what was happening and held off. The trawler slowed, but all three boats were within about 30 yards of each other. Not trusting the trawler, I did a 180 and headed south until he got his shit together and passed me.

About five miles later, near the Lake Worth inlet, a 25' fishing boat was coming at me at a good clip. When he got uncomfortably close, I laid on the horn as he just kept coming. This time, I had a shoal to starboard, nowhere to go. It appeared he had lost steerage (we saw him spinning his wheel) but didn't think to throttle down. He missed us by about 10 yards, maybe less.

Photo by Chip

Boy, was I happy to get the anchor down as more and more revelers came out (one waylaid by a police boat). We will be celebrating Memorial Day in the peace of our anchorage, back on the move Tuesday once everyone has gone back to their day jobs!

That tropical storm is gathering steam offshore, so, once again, we'll be trolling up the ICW. Only 7 bridges on our next leg -- and the successful completion of Florida's bridge challenge.

SMOOTH SAILING

Miami Beach, FL 25º47.239N | 80º08.847W

So, after two eventful days, we set the alarm for 2:30 a.m. in Lake Worth to check the conditions for a 12-hour sail to Miami, hoping for favorable winds and calm seas.

All was peaceful under a half moon, so we lifted a very short anchor chain (7 feet of water), raised the mainsail and ghosted out of a blissful inlet at 3:20, strangely enough, behind two other sailboats. They must have been headed for the Bahamas, because we didn't see them again.

An 11-knot southeast wind pushed us along the coast but, after dawn, started dropping off. The north-flowing Gulf Stream is uncomfortably close to shore along this stretch right now, some places less than three miles, so there's not a lot of sea room when you're headed south. If you stay really close to shore, there's a countercurrent. I experimented on my watch, and it would kick in just under a mile offshore.

I know to land people that seems comforting, but to a sailor it's unnerving. Most of the dangers are associated with being near shore, you know, rocks, land, reefs, all bad. With eastern swell and east/southeast wind, it was one reason we opted to anchor for the night rather than wading up the shore in the dark.

By the time we had Miami in sight, the countercurrent had us flying at a whopping 8 knots (motorsailing). Yahoo!!!! There was a huge squall off in the distance, but sunny and near-perfect where we were. This was the day I'd wanted yesterday.

We traversed a strangely empty Government Cut at 2:15, only about 6 hours after we would have come in had we sailed through the night. All told, while the overnight wind would have been nice to have, I was glad instead to roll in on 7 hours of peaceful sleep. We were in the dinghy on our way to South Beach in less than an hour.

It's beginning to feel like a Miami Christmas!!!

RACING THE SUN

Lake Worth, FL 26º46.055N | 80º02.693W

Rainbow just after sunrise, between Vero Beach and the Fort Pierce inlet.

"Now that's how you want to start your day. A rainbow has to be a good omen, right?" I said.

Chip said, "There's something in my weather book about a rainbow in the morning ....."

Neither of us bothered to look.

I was way too focused on a beautiful day offshore, 5-10 knot east wind, 3-6 foot swell, no ICW, no bridge tenders.

A line of six sailboats ahead of us had to be another good omen. The chatter on the VHF said Chris Parker declared today a good weather window to cross to the Bahamas. Yahoo!!

Our first sign of clouds on the horizon was when all but one of those sailboats passed the inlet and headed on south on the ICW. Strange, I thought as I turned east down the inlet channel.

I knew we would be headed out the inlet on a falling tide, with the water going out, and with wind coming toward us. However, with such low wind predicted, I thought it might be a little rough but fine. And so far, as predicted, the winds were zero when we left Vero and had picked up to 7 or 8 before the inlet.

We followed the other sailboat down the channel into more and more swell as we approached the ocean. The other boat, Imagine, was about 200 yards ahead, and we could see him getting tossed around at the end of the channel. Then really, really getting tossed. At one point we could see the entire length of his boat -- from the top, as if we were flying over it.

It was the first moment I thought of turning back. I was at the helm. I should have. I did not.

As we neared the end of the channel the swell turned into huge, unorganized chop. I mean, really, can't someone get this shit organized? Who's in charge here? I tried by my very will to get it organized, you over there, hold back, you ahead, calm down and proceed forward. You, way up there .... Yikes.

It was hopeless. Each pounder would send the bow straight down into the water, then rock us, sometimes side to side, sometimes hobby horsing, ending with the bow pointing straight up.

Chip took this photo of one uphill run. We both tried to take photos.
It was not possible to both hold on and take pictures.

We think they were only 8 to 10-foot waves, but they weren't swells. They were steep, smashed up together and unpredictable.

Then it got really crazy.

Chip asked if I wanted him to take the wheel, and I said YES. He's much better at reading waves than I am -- a misspent youth body surfing really pays off.

He manhandled us through while I sat on the floor of the cockpit trying to tie down the cockpit table that had come loose was pounding against the helm.

I kept thinking, please engine, please don't shut down now -- LIKE YOU DID YESTERDAY.

We cleared the inlet and turned into large, choppy swell with 20+knots of wind, and not perfectly east for our southeast trek. It was clocking south, just hovering enough east that we could get some traction.

"Hello all stations. This is United States Coast Guard Miami Station, United States Coast Guard Miami Station, United States Coast Guard Miami Station, please tune in to Channel 22 Alpha for information regarding a small craft advisory."

Great. From the time we left Vero, we had gone from a predicted 5-10 knots and nearly calm seas to a small craft advisory. The swell and wind were, as we already knew, much higher than predicted, and on top of that, there was a nasty chop on top of the swell. Not dangerous, just bumpy -- not the glorious ride I was hoping for.

Our plan was to make the 50-mile hop to Lake Worth (Palm Beach), anchor until 3 a.m., and then set off again for another 50-mile hop to Miami, but the swell had us slowed down to a pace that would put us at Lake Worth well past dark -- and, even if we went in, it would be with wind, against current, a lesson very fresh on our minds. The only other option would be to keep going all night, slowing down to make Miami just after dawn.

We got on our line, adjusted as much sail as we could manage (reefed main, jib and staysail) to give us the easiest ride possible for the conditions (full sails give you traction in the water, making the pass through waves much smoother, less rocking).

We motorsailed to get our speed up, and, most amazing of news, according to our GPS, we would be in range of Lake Worth between 5 and 5:30, just before sunset, WITH a rising tide peaking at 5:12 (wind with current going in).

I had been fighting seasickness all morning, but my usual shot of Pepto before going offshore was keeping it in check. The worst place to be for getting seasick is below in the cabin, so to get what we needed I would dash below and run back up, dodging the array of stuff strewn about the cabin floor. We had "stowed" before going offshore, but a few months of soft inshore travel had made us lazy -- plus, we did not expect the thorough tossing we got from the inlet.

By about 1 o'clock the seas started backing down and the wind moderated to an easy 13-15 knots. Aside from a rolly swell, we were travelling in relative comfort and were able to regain order below. No major spills, no breakage, just a few things tossed about.

At 3:20, we were only 11.4 miles from Lake Worth, the wind was down to 13, and the sea was growing very kind.

Palm Beach. A happy sight.

At exactly the dot of high tide, we traversed a calm inlet and turned to drop the anchor in seven feet of water. I looked down as the anchor sank and -- for the first time since June in the Bahamas -- I could see it go all the way to the bottom!

I watched as the anchor spun into position and nestled itself cozily in the sand. I could almost swear it was smiling.

So was I.

CLEAR BLUE WATER

Lake Worth, FL 26º45.935N | 80º02.601W

Chip and Lake Worth.

We -- and Cara Mia -- have been set free! The long-awaited moment: open water, calm seas, a light, freshening breeze and no engine.

But I get ahead of myself. Yesterday, the winter solstice, was spent cleaning, doing chores and stowing for a sail offshore. The tides, current and distance to Miami added up to make 3 a.m. the best departure time.

I've read so many articles the dreaded "first night watch," so many cruisers afraid of sailing in the dark. Chip and I discussed the strange circumstance that has us making our first ocean sail at night, but found ourselves not only undaunted but stoked.

We chased Jessie Marie out the Lake Worth Inlet at minutes after 3, and made a right turn south toward Miami. That was about the extent of our navigation. Okay, not quite, but still, compared to slogs down the ICW, it was a great joy to set a way, way out there waypoint.

Full moon keeping watch to the west.

Our path was lit by a beautiful moon, recovered from its full eclipse the night before.

Jessie Marie fell back, making a marvelous sight at sunrise.

Cara Mia sailed like a dream. The three of us need to work out some kinks, and this was the beginning.

And the ICW? We're finally free! I could see it passing on the right side of our GPS screen, just inside the shoreline. Every time I saw "bascule bridge" I shouted with joy, tempted to hail the bridges and tell them "I don't need an opening."

Before reaching the inlet at Miami, we attempted once again to get our reefing system working. It jams badly when we pull in the lines from the cockpit. Bad. "Reefing" is how we shorten the mainsail in strong wind so we don't get knocked down. It's a little like downshifting on a downhill drive.

FIX REEFING SYSTEM: Chore number one before we can cross to the Bahamas.

The turn into Government Cut in Miami was action-packed. We ran the gauntlet of this busy port in rush hour traffic. Ferries, cargo ships, super-sized freighters, small power boats, jetskis, sportfishers, motoryachts.

We pulled into Dinner Key at 3:30, our last stop before crossing.

Next on the TO DO LIST: Christmas!

Miami, FL 

Entering Government Cut into Miami.

Cranes. Large ones.

Does this ship look large?

That's the same ship with Jessie Marie in front of it. LARGE.

A BRIDGE HALF OPEN

Stuart, FL 27º11.826N | 80º15.682W

In general, I believe any day that starts hunched over the toilet is not gonna be a good one.

Our plan for this day was to make our final, short trek down the Intracoastal Waterway to Lake Worth where we plan to make a hop down to Miami outside in the ocean. The ICW between Stuart and Lake Worth is punctuated by ten bridges that either open on demand or are on alternating scheduled openings, some on the half hours, some on quarters, so we knew there could be a lot of fits and starts.

All we wanted was to get the ICW behind us, once and for all. Our last rite of passage.

Not so easy.

After a crappy few hours unstopping the toilet, we left the marina and ran smack into a grumpy bridge tender, who wouldn't answer to the bridge name we had successfully called the previous day. Busting my chops already?

Then about three miles past the bridge a man hailed us on the VHF. When I answered he went on a four-minute yelling screed -- on Channel 16 for everyone to hear -- about how we had waked him on his motoryacht as we passed his marina. ("Waked" means going fast enough to create a wave behind your boat, called a wake, which can cause damage.)

It's hard not to laugh at the possibility of us creating a damaging wake along the ICW where boats constantly fly through wreaking havoc with their wakes, especially since we can create a larger wake with our dinghy than we can with the boat.

Deep breath. Onward. The Coast Guard then made an announcement about a problem with the bridge we were approaching. Now, I don't know how the Coast Guard selects who will make their radio announcements, but it seems to be the same selection process used to hire McDonald's drive-through window employees. What?!?!?!? What did they say?!?!?

So, I start hailing the bridge to find out what horrors we might be approaching, hoping we were not going to be turned back.

I hailed "Jupiter Bridge" and hailed again. And hailed and hailed. Finally a dispassionate voice come on saying, "Are you hailing the Jupiter 707 Bridge?"

"Yes." Nothing. "Jupiter 707 Bridge, this is Cara Mia."

"Bridge here."

"Can I have an opening!?!?!"

Sheesh. Second chops-busting of the day from a bridge tender. He didn't even respond when I thanked him.

So, after passing through Mr. Grumpy II's bridge our next peril loomed up about 50 yards ahead: a dredger right in our path at a turn where a heavy current was running. It was unclear how to pass them, and they too did not answer hails on the radio. We guessed. We guessed right.

As we passed the dredger I hailed the next bridge about 100 yards ahead, only to be advised by Mr. Nice bridge tender that he was happy to have us, but his bridge only opened on one side. At least he was nice about it.

We then entered the group of bridges that opened on a timed basis. The first one acknowledged us and two other boats traveling with us, and said that the opening was imminent. We waited and waited, idled, reversed, pivoted, waited. Finally the horn sounded. We waited. The bridge started moving and so did we. But wait! Have you ever seen a bridge open that slowly? We idled and reversed and pivoted again until we could safely lurch through hugging the port side. Whew.

At the next bridge, we were second in line behind a sailboat, and the tender told us this was another malfunctioning, half opening bridge. At this point it was hard not to see our bridge as half closed.

With the same sailboat in front of us we motored toward yet another timed bridge as a large sportfishing yacht pulled between us. At the same time I could hear a sportfisher approaching from the opposite direction asking if he could fit under the bridge with "23-foot outriggers." He decided to wait for the opening.

As we were all idling, pivoting, reversing, Chip said, "Is that a flashing light on top of that boat?"

We took a look with the binoculars and could see that the boat waiting on the opposite side of the bridge had his big-ass Furuno radar spinning -- in the ICW. There is NO reason to have radar on in the ICW on a clear, sunny day. None. Laughable.

So, once the bridge opened, I could see the sailboat start forward, because everyone on our side had the right of way since we were traveling with the current. Just as we started moving, I looked ahead to see the sailboat turned sideways just on our side of the bridge.

The sportfisher with his outriggers and spinning radar was barreling on through the bridge opening, right of way or no.

The bridge tender came on the VHF: "Sir, you need to take a boating right of way class."

Someone else chimed in after him: "And you can turn off that radar too!"

The very last bridge held only minor thrills as it was around a sharp turn with swift side current and heavy traffic, but we made it. Triumphant. Goodbye ICW.

We anchored near our friends on Jessie Marie at the mouth of Lake Worth Inlet, poised for an easy escape. I checked my email to find an insurance claim had been filed against us for waking the large motor yacht.

Determined to pull out a good day, we had our friends over for home-cooked pizza, wine and laughs, then set the alarm for 2 a.m. to watch the lunar eclipse. Beautiful.

Thanks, Gio!     Photo credit: Giovanni Calabro

Lake Worth, FL 26º45.935N | 80º02.601W

I didn't see any peanuts, but they got the shack part right.

Palm Beach across the water.