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| the guys take a break |
The wind is behind us as we sail thru
Bowlegs Cut, another one of these narrow but well-marked thread-the-needle
passages.
Occasionally, we must dodge
crap pots, each marked with little round white balls.
Raising up Rainbows End's mainsail is
fabulously easy with these electric winches.
Well, there is one small complication, and that's from those darn lazy
jacks, which are great when lowering but a pain when raising. Here is where my experience aboard the Charisma
is so valuable: the ONLY way to get the
mainsail up without the battens snagging is to uncleat the lazy jacks, then
reach up and pull them down BELOW the stack pack bag. Works every time then. Once
the lazy jacks are out of the way, you just wrap the halyard around the winch,
press the button, and "brrrrrzzzzzzzzzzzzt" up she goes! Remember, that sail is EXTREMELY heavy. I remember the tremendous amount of strength
and effort it took to raise up the mainsail on the Charisma, and that one was
much smaller than this one.
 |
| Fiesta Marina |
We need provisions, and according to the
cruising guide, our best bet is Fiesta Marina, right ahead on small Fiesta
Key.
But the cruising guide didn't say
that they did not have room for a catamaran, a fact we quickly learned as we
approached the marina.
So Tim, at the
helm, holds Rainbows End stationary outside the breakwater as we dinghy into
the marina.
It's just not as easy to
find what you need here as it was in the BVIs.
After the necessary provisions (mainly
beer and ice) are brought back aboard with the dinghy, we proceed on our way
through the next narrow passage: Grassy
Key Banks. The sailing conditions are
awesome, with a nice strong tail wind.
Rainbows End doesn't want to run straight downwind, so I must do a
series of broad-reaching tacks. We're
kicking butt at 6 knots. But do know,
dear reader, that each change of tack requires a gybe, and gybing a big boat
like this is serious business. You
absolutely must pull in the mainsheet good and hard beforehand, else that
gybing boom will really rock your world, and that's not a good way to treat
your girl. On these downwind runs, I
move the traveler to leeward as extra insurance against an accidental
gybe. (I considered ways to possibly do
a wing-and-wing with the jib, but I don't have a whisker pole, and there was no
cleat in the right place to rig it with a jib preventer tied to its clew.)
Having these teens and 20-somethings
aboard is giving me the opportunity to learn much about that generation's
culture and music. All of them have
their IPODs and Smart-phones loaded up with their personal music playlists, and
I get to hear it all. It included Jimmy
Buffet, of course, and other classic artists.
But one song in particular, by some group I'd never heard of, kinda
stuck out. It was a rap song. Mind you, I really don't get into rap, and I
even hesitate to use the words "rap" and "music" in the
same sentence. Anyway, the title of the
song was - and I apologize in advance for any offense to the reader here - the
title was "I'm On a Boat, Bitch".
The lyrics, as I recall, included memorable phrases that went something
like: "@%#& on a boat
&%+=?&*@ the ocean $@#!**%
sailing %$@#!= blue water
@*&^=!%@#+* " and on and
on, something along those lines. As it
played, Mitch provided the lip-sync, choreography, and corresponding
gestures. I suppose you could say it was
a tad vulgar, but yet, somehow entertaining.
 |
| start of Long Key Viaduct |
We sail along the Long Key Viaduct, the
first of a few bridges that seem to go on forever, and then through the next pair
of narrow passages:
the Channel Key Bank,
and the Grassy Key Bank.
And still
dodging crab pots.
Our planned anchorage
for the night, near Long Point Key, is just ahead.
It's still early afternoon; we made good
time!
We lower sails and go to engine
power.
But, there is an odd
vibration.
By individually cutting
thrust to each prop, we narrow its source to the starboard side.
Is perhaps something wrapped on the starboard
prop?
We'll need to check it out once
we're anchored.
 |
| huge house on Long Point Key |
At the end of the peninsula at the northern
point of Long Point Key was a huge house, and what appeared to be a sandy
beach.
We would later learn that this
was all a private golf resort area, and the "beach" was just some
sand laid upon an un-swimmable rocky point.
But we were in need of a good place to drop anchor, so I had the boys
take off in the dinghy to scout out the area.
I told them to bring a snorkel mask so they
could see what kind of bottom we had.
Minutes later they reported that the rest of the area was very shallow,
and where we were was grassy.
So we
anchored there, about a quarter of a mile out.
Then everyone jumped in the water.
It was about 6 feet deep, and crystal clear!
All the guys took turns jumping or diving
from the top of cockpit roof.
 |
| Lindsey floating around |
Swimming around, I looked back at
Rainbows End. What a magnificent vessel
it was! I just couldn't believe that
this majestic creation was all mine, for a whole week! How lucky can a guy get?
But enough spectator sports - we had to
check out that starboard prop. Tim dove
down, then came up with a discouraged expression. "We got problems", he said. Evidently, a huge rope had entangled itself
around the prop. It was black, which
didn't match any of our onboard ropes or lines, so it wasn't ours. Most likely, we picked it up near one of
those crab traps. It was amazing that
the starboard engine ran at all!
So we got a sharp fillet knife from the
galley, and Tim and Kat grabbed snorkels and took turns diving down, cutting,
slicing, twisting, turning, pulling, trying to get the blasted thing off. The hardest part was avoiding all the flesh-slicing
barnacles growing on the hull. At one
point, it looked hopeless; we were ready to make a call on the VHF to see if
any nearby dive boats in the area could help us.
 |
| Tim & Kat with the Black Rope of Death |
But they kept at it. It took over a half-hour, but finally, Kat
rose to the surface, victoriously holding the huge hunk of black polypro rope
over her head. It was thereupon dubbed
the Black Rope of Death. We would later
learn that, yes, this is what the crab fisherman use to secure their pots, and
this one was semi-coiled, so someone must have dropped it in the water.
Later that evening we held a crew meeting
to discuss the possibility of going all night withOUT the air conditioner and
generator.
There were no bugs here, no
rain in the forecast, and a pleasant and steady breeze was blowing.
The debate was at times quite spirited, but
in the end, we decided to give it a try.
I put a cushion on the foredeck trampoline and grabbed a blanket and
pillow.
Without that noisy generator
rumbling nearby, it was quite comfortable and pleasant - far better than having
to share the converted settee with Mitch!
But noisy Highway #1, about a mile away, reminded me all night long that
I was not very far from civilization.
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| Swan dive |
 |
| dinghy ride |
