Day 6 - Wednesday: Calms and Storms

      Jeremy wakes me up at 4:30 for my anchor watch shift.  I was actually looking forward to doing this, and glad that I drew the last shift, for I was going to while away my time stargazing.  There should be some amazing things to see up in the sky at that time of night, at this latitude, and with good dark skies since the lights of civilization were quite far away.

      But those plans were trashed when I saw that it was pouring down rain.  I'm not going to see many stars in this mess.  I work my way out to the cockpit, where everything is slopping wet.  I notice that the tidal currents are flowing with their usual fury.  And it's cold!  I start to miss my nice warm, dry bed back in Houston.  Buy hey, sailing is fun!

      A half-hour or so later the rain slacks up, and I breathe a sigh of relief.  But then, the wind starts blowing.  And blowing harder.  And blowing some more.  Rainbows End starts to swing on her anchor rode.  I shine the Q-beam light over to Mangrove Island; so far, so good.  But I'm thinking that my anxiety level could not possibly get worse than it is now.

     I was wrong.

     It starts to LIGHTNING!  I see a bolt out of the sky hit the island where the Fat Albert blimp is tethered, and that ain't very far away.  Earlier, I had explained to everyone that, should lightning hit our mast, the crew SHOULD be well protected, provided that you are not touching anything metal, and assuming that Rainbows End's mast is properly grounded into the water.  (Of course, the boat's electronics would likely all get fried.)  But I really don't want to test any of that tonight.  About now I start to ask myself:  what was it about sailing that I love so much?

       Anyway, the sun eventually came up, and Rainbows End was still secure at her anchor, and lightning did not strike us.  We checked the weather forecast; there was no change.  Winds today will be pitiful:  5 knots out of the west.  So I got the crew up, and we weighed anchor and set a course to Key West.

water smooth as glass

       As forecast, the winds are crummy all day long, and blowing the wrong way, to boot.  I constantly adjust the sail trim, trying to eke every last ounce of power from every tiny little wind puff.  We try to use what measly electrical voltage we have from the auxiliary engine.  And to further add salt to our wounds, we are CONSTANTLY dodging crab pots, which seem to be far more numerous in these parts.  After our experience with the Black Rope of Death, we really want to stay far away from them.  When we see a group of them ahead, we've taken to calling it a "mine field". 

      Right now, I would sell my right arm for either:  1) more wind,  2) wind from any direction other than where it's blowing now,  or  3) a working propulsion engine.  I'm not picky - I'll take any one of those!  Tell me again - why am I doing this?

      All day long, we watch thunderstorms build to the south, along the Atlantic seashore.  The storm activity increases as the day wears on.  We see little funnel clouds sometimes poke downwards from clouds.  Meanwhile, off to the north, the sky is clear and calm as could be.  I find myself wishing that one of those storms would, you know, kind of move toward us, not a lot, just a little bit, to, you know, maybe kick up some wind.   Every now and then the wind would tease me.  One little wind puff got all the way up to 6 knots!!  Woo-hoo!!  That was a major cause for celebration!

      At 3:00 p.m. we pass the entrance to Jewfish Basin, and it's time to make a go or no-go decision.  I crunch up some numbers.  Over the past couple of days, we have observed that, in general, the wind seems to pick up in the afternoon.  Thus it appears that our best choice is to press on towards Key West.  I just hope we make it there before dark.  I definitely do not want to enter an unfamiliar area and anchor or moor in the dark of night, even if it is pretty lit up there.  But, I would spend the rest of the trip wondering what Jewfish Basin might have been like.

Storm coming

        We press on westward, and the buildings along Key West's northern shore gradually come into view.  It would be oh-so-much easier just to cut straight across to our destination, but no, we cannot do that - shallow reefs are all over the place in here.  We must get to Key West via the long way:  straight ahead into the Northwest Channel, then down the channel in a southeasterly direction, then down around the south end of Tank Island into the harbor.  There are no shortcuts.

      We are almost to the channel when all hell breaks loose.

      All day long, we'd been watching rainstorms grow, mostly to the far south.  Well, right out of thin air, a storm forms BEHINDS us, to the east.  All day long, I had been hoping that Mother Nature would send something our way to kick up some wind.  Well, in a "be careful what you wish for" moment, Mother Nature finally decided to make up for lost time, all at once.  This storm was INSTANTLY on top of us, with no warning whatsoever.  I screamed at the crew (who were all down in the cockpit happily playing a game of dominos) to batten down the hatches and get me some help up here on the bridge, NOW!  As the guys rushed to my assistance, I watched the wind gauge start climbing, and climbing, and next thing I know it's over 25 knots.  I look around for anything up on the bridge that needs to be secured - I see my favorite hat.  But before I can grab it, a huge wind gust blows it away.

Fighting the storm

      But a lost hat was the least of my problems now.   The wind is up to 30 knots, and I've got all my sails up!  This is the sailor's worst nightmare:  overpowered sails.  It's in these situations where horrible things happen.  Think:  capsize.  Or, a broken mast.  We must reduce sail!  And without a fully-functioning propulsion engine, lowering the sails ALL the way was not an option - I needed SOME sail for power and steering control.

      I start barking out orders:  furl up the jib halfway!  (Not exactly an efficient storm jib, but it was all I had.)  Lower the mainsail halfway!  (No, it was not properly reefed, the reefing lines were a mess, and the luff cringle was not hooked; the sail had a horrible shape, but it would have to do.)

        Finally, with assistance from my terrified crew, we get the boat under control.  And now the wind is blowing from:  the southeast.  And we need to go down the channel towards the:  southeast!  So after fighting for westward progress the whole darn day, now I'm fighting to get the boat to go back the other way!   We begin a series of upwind tacks to try to get the boat moving where we need it to go.  I realize that this is probably the first time in the entire trip where we've done a good ole' fashioned come-about.

       The storm rages for a half-hour.  Finally, it starts to calm down, and I can breathe again.  And we've finally made enough SE progress to get around the south side of Tank Island, and into the harbor.

       As the storm subsides, boats come out.   Sailboats!  Having not seen another sailboat all week, suddenly the waters around Key West are filled with sailboats of every size!  So THIS is where they've been all this time.

Key West from the water

       Still on sail power, we enter the channel just west of Key West.  Now that the wind has returned to some semblance of normalcy, I need more sail power, so we unfurl the jib and raise the main back up all the way.  Looking to the north, we see anchored boats, mostly sailboats, more than a hundred of them, anchored everywhere!  And the sun is going down.  So it seems prudent to anchor right here amongst them all.  We pick a likely anchoring spot, and at the last minute, drop the sails and use the tiny bit of remaining battery voltage for propulsion and to operate the windlass.  Anchor down. 

       (Ideally, a visual anchor inspection should happen here, but the anchor is probably 20 feet down and it's getting dark.  Tonight we'll have to go on faith.)

Key West anchorage at sunset

       We made it!  After five days and over 100 miles, Rainbows End and its crew are safe and secure in Key West, just a little worse for wear.  We can see a large crowd gathering on a westward-facing harbor right at sunset.  This must be the legendary daily sunset celebration at Mallory Dock.  As the sun hits the horizon, we hear a bugle call over the P.A. system.  And then the city of Key West lights up.

       It took us eleven hours to reach Key West from our last anchorage at Cudjoe Channel.  I've been at the helm the entire time.  That doesn't include my cold and wet anchor watch that started at 4:30 this morning.  And I just fought the mother of all storms.  I don't remember my head hitting the pillow.