Monday, June 17, 2013

Introduction




Top row: Michelle, Doug, Jeremy, Capt. David, Kat
Bottom row:  Tim, Lindsey, Theresa, Mitch
     If your ideal vacation is the kind where you lay back while someone else pampers you and tends to your every need, well, Woods family-style vacations are probably not for you.
     Two years ago, we ventured to the British Virgin Islands where we bareboat chartered the sailing catamaran Charisma.  We all lived aboard it for one whole week.  You can read all about it here
     In the interim, I did a little sailing adventurism on my own, as I attempted to sail across the Gulf of Mexico aboard the monohull sloop Curmudgeon.  You can read all about that here.  


      And of course we cannot forget the Harvest Moon Regatta, a comparatively easy sail, that you here.
My boat!


     Clearly, I cannot get rid of my sailing bug.  So once again, I gathered up the family and commissioned them all as crew members for my next big boating adventure, to take place in June 2013.

Where to go?


      The Earth is 70% water, so there are lots of potential places to go sailing.  But a good sailing destination needs to have these attributes:   Lots of little islands to sail around, explore, and break up the waves.  Lovely scenery.  Fair and steady winds.  Warm temperatures.  A good sailing and boating community. 

     And here is the clincher:  it needs to be someplace we can get to with reasonable expense.  The British Virgin Islands, of course, is one of the world's best places to sail, but it costs a pile of money to get there.  (Actually that pretty much describes the entire Caribbean.)  Ideally, we want to go someplace in the continental United States.  An added bonus to that was:  no international customs and immigration hassles.

      And so we chose the Florida Keys.  The Keys are a 100-mile long string of coral islands, stretching in a long southwesterly-curving arc from the southern tip of Florida.  U.S. Highway #1 ran the entire length of the island chain.  Bordering the tropics, the Keys were blessed with the northern-most fringe of the ever-constant easterly trade winds.  All the cruising books agreed:  this was one great place to sail!  And we could fly from Houston to Miami and back on a song.

      Regarding our vessel:  it needed to be large enough to accommodate the whole lot of us, possibly as many as nine people.  All the crew (except me) was very adamant that it must include proper creature comforts, such as air conditioning and nice big beds for all.


    All of these requirements, and more, were met by our chosen vessel, the 44-foot sailing catamaran Rainbows End.  It was owned and operated by a company in Key Largo called 360 Yachting, who made us an offer we just could not refuse:  a ONE-WAY option from Key Largo to Key West.  We were hooked.  This was sure to be one exciting adventure!

      Next came the task of figuring out just where amongst all these islands to go, a true Labor of Love if there ever was one.  Planning an itinerary for such a trip requires much research and a lot of map plotting.  The foremost task was figuring out where to spend each night.  It had to be a suitable place to moor or drop anchor, with proper depth, seabed, protection from weather, and boat swing room.  And it needed to be interesting, or at least picturesque.  And ideally, you want each daily "leg" of the trip to be about equal in length.  And of course, we need to have interim stops along the way to get provisions and such.  

      The first big decision was deciding which side of the island chain to sail upon:  the southerly Atlantic side, or the northerly Gulf of Mexico side.  Each side seemed to have its pros and cons.  And here is the big issue:  you see, the Rainbows End has this freakishly tall mast, at 72 feet.  And all along the route are bridges and power lines that are too low to traverse.  There was, according to the map, only one place to cross between them, a tiny channel called Snake Creek where U.S. Highway #1 had a bascule (hinged) bridge, not far from Key Largo.  Once we crossed, there was no going back until we got to Key West.         

I knew ahead of time it was going to be great!
       After much deliberation, I chose the northerly Gulf route.  It seemed to be more interesting, more diverse, had more marine wildlife, and gave us the opportunity to really "get away from it all" once we reached the lower Keys.   Of course, this "getting away from it all" concept including making sure we had all the provisions needed for the last part of the trip once we left our last opportunity at Marathon.

      And so, with my cruising guide, the Internet, and five full-sized NOAA nautical charts at 1:40,000 resolution, I meticulously plotted out seven nightly stops, including the final one in a Key West marina where, as agreed, we would drop off Rainbows End at the conclusion of the trip.  We were good to go!

Day #1 - Friday: Meet Rainbows End


      Anytime you try to move nine people from multiple source locations and get them a thousand miles away, there absolutely will be transportation issues and snafus.  It would be nearly midnight before every one of my crew was finally aboard.  Already, my meticulously-planned itinerary was one nightly stop behind.  We would need to stay here in this marina tonight.

at Key Largo Marina
      I, Jeremy, Kat, Doug, and Michelle got to Key Largo at mid-afternoon.  There, we met up with Capt. Joe, the skipper and technician extraordinaire from 360 Yachting, and his assistant Edgar.  The girls took off to the grocery store for provisions, and Capt. Joe began the arduous task of familiarizing us guys with Rainbows End and its vast array of mind-bogglingly complex systems.  This took over two hours.  And since my First Mate, Tim, was not here, I had to digest all this without him.  But fortunately Doug, with his limitless information-absorbing sponge for a brain, was able to retain the vast bulk of it all.  I told him that I was already REAL close to demoting Tim down to Cabin Boy or something, and promoting Doug up to First Mate.  But Doug did become our de-facto electrical engineer for the rest of the trip.

       Then I whipped out my maps, and Joe and & I discussed my itinerary.  Joe was surprised, and a bit skeptical, of my plans to go up the Gulf side.  He said that nearly all their charterers go up the Atlantic side.  But my intricate and detailed explanations of my plans seemed to convince him that I knew what I was doing and that the boat would be safe going that way.

Looking up at the mainsail
      Rainbows End was definitely a first-class vessel!  It was incredibly spacious and roomy, and had all the latest bells & whistles and gadgets & gizmos.  The propulsion system consisted of a single diesel that recharged the propulsion batteries, which in turn powered two individually-controlled electric motors, one on each hull.  There was also an auxiliary diesel engine for the air conditioner and other house systems.


       The galley was immense.  On the starboard side of the boat was a luxurious master suite with a queen-sized bed cabin, a "parlor" with a desk and loveseat, a private head with separate shower, and closets galore.  Tim, Theresa, and Lindsey would get this side of the boat.  On the port size were two queen-sized cabins, two heads, and also lots of closets and cubbies.  Jeremy & Kat took the aft cabin; Doug & Michelle, forward.

Jeremy definitely likes the galley
     The cockpit, also big and roomy, included a wet bar, with its own refrigerator, separate from the galley fridge.  On each side of the cockpit were stairs leading up to the bridge, which was large enough to accommodate several people on its wide bench.  Instruments included a Raymarine GPS-integrated chartplotter with a full-sized color screen, and a handheld VHF radio.  There were switches for electric winches.  Plus a big map-holder with a hinged Plexiglas cover.  Up on the bridge, looking out over the foredeck, it felt like you were on a ship.

      The disappointment were the "single cabins", at the forepeak of each hull, where supposedly  a crewman could sleep.  There were more like tombs; to enter them, you open an overhead hatch and descend a very long, narrow ladder.  Inside, they were dark, dank, dirty, windowless dungeons.   A good place perhaps for cargo, but not people.  Mitch and I would need to find another place to sleep.

New Orleans Saints flag flies high
      There were davits at the stern for raising the dinghy.  We won't have to tow it, like we did on Charisma.  But it only had a wimpy little 4 HP motor.
      At dusk, it starts to rain.  And it rains all night long.  One of the hatches above the galley leaks.  O boy.   Is it going to be like this all week?

Day #2 - Saturday: Capt. David takes command


     There are a million details to get done this morning before we can leave, and it seems to take an eternity to get them all done.  Overnight, we've produced a list of about a hundred questions for Joe and Edgar:   things we cannot figure out; things we cannot get to work; topics from yesterdays crash course in how to operate Rainbows End's many complex systems; more paperwork for crew members who arrived late last night; and on and on.  Joe had told us that nearly ALL of their charterers spend their first night at the marina; nobody sets sail on their first day here.  And now we know why.  And in retrospect, it was a good thing that we spent a night right here, checking out our vessel and getting familiar with her.

      More provisions needed to be procured and stowed.  The girls take off to do that.

      After the girls got back, we need to return the rental cars.  Tim and I take off to do that.  Ed from Budget Rentals gives us a ride back to the marina.  Along the way, Tim and I tell him about our yacht charter plans.  Ed turns out to be a knowledgeable boater.  He tells us about  a friend of his who was a boat broker who had to quit that business when he could no longer stomach selling yachts to guys who had no clue what they were doing.

canal in Key Largo
      FINALLY, at about 11:00, all the details have been done.  Everything has been loaded and stowed.  Systems that didn't work before, such as the propane stove, now work.  Paperwork is complete.  Questions are answered; or, at least as many as we can think of. 

      I take command of my vessel and assign the helm to Tim, my First Mate and Maneuvering Under Power Expert.  Tim fires up the main propulsion diesel engine as the rest of us guys release the dock lines.  We are underway, and wave good-by to Joe and Edgar.

map of Key Largo Marina
      Key Largo Marina is notorious for its narrow and very crowded canals.  Tim would later say that taking the helm of Rainbows End, a very large, expensive boat that he had never driven, with an unfamiliar propulsion system, through those horrifically narrow channels lined with multi-million-dollar boats, was the scariest moment in his life. 
      A couple hundred yards from where Rainbows End was moored is a very, very tight right-hand turn, appropriately called "Crash Corner".  I complied with Joe's instructions and did a "securite" call over VHF channel 16 to warn over vessels that a large catamaran was outbound at Key Largo crash corner.  No reply, which hopefully meant that no one else was coming around the other way.  Very slowly, very cautiously, Tim crept forward around the corner, while we other guys stood ready to fend off any near collisions with boats or wharves or anything. 

Tim at the helm
     Well to make a long story short, we made it out of the marina canal safely without incident.  Sighs all around. 

      And finally, we are out in the open Atlantic ocean.  Cool ocean breezes erase the heat of that sweltering marina.  I take over the helm, raise up the mainsail, and unfurl the jib.  (Wow, these electric winches sure make that easy.)  Rainbows End is now under full sail, using that silent, abundant, free energy provided courtesy of Mother Nature.  Propulsion engine off!

      Oh, and put on some music!


One very happy sailor
      The drinks start to flow, and I see smiles returning to the faces of my previously-stressed-out crew.   The girls are now down to bikinis.  Michelle says:  "Now THIS is what I envisioned sailing to be all about!"

Mitch & Lindsey on foredeck

Coral reefs, Snake Creek, and Shell Key



Cockpit party
      Winds are light, barely 10 knots, but at a good angle.  Time to do a little tweaking, see if I can get more sail power, get Rainbows End to go a bit faster.  I pull the traveler to windward, to add a little twist to the sail.  This boat has a really wide traveler that would be the envy of any monohull skipper.  Ok, that helps; we picked up about a knot.  The boom is a bit bouncy, tho, and this boat does not have a vang to hold it down.
      Doug, Tim, and I put our heads together and figure out how to use the Raymarine chartplotter.  It seems that none of us have ever used Raymarine; Tim and I have only used Gorman.  It takes a little experimenting, but we finally get the knack of it, and set a course for the Hens & Chickens, a relatively shallow reef, part of the John Pinnekamp Coral Reef State Park system, the only underwater park of its kind in the U.S.  
      The reef was easy to spot because it has a tall marker and lots of other boats there.  All the reefs out here in Pinnekamp Park have mooring balls, so we grab one and tie off.  Everyone grab snorkel mask and fins and get in the water! 
 
Chilling on the foredeck
     
The water was a bit murky; not crystal clear, like we experienced in the Caribbean.  Joe had mentioned that these shallower reefs closer to the shoreline might be cloudy on account of all the recent rains.  He was right.  But regardless, we still saw lots of fish and other exotic things down there.  But the water was a bit rough.  Well heck, we ARE out in the Atlantic Ocean, for gosh sakes.  (But I've seen waves much, much worse.)  Every so often, a wave would roll over the top of my snorkel, filling my mouth with seawater.  Yuck.
      We snorkeled around for about a half-hour.  It would have been nice to do more, but we did get a late start today, and we must cross over to the Gulf side, and daylight is limited.
Approaching the Snake Creek bridge
      The course is now set for the southernmost  marker to the entrance of Snake Creek, where we will cross over.  Sails are down and we are under engine power with Tim at the helm.  It is very, very shallow here; the tide must be out.  Tim proceeds cautiously.  The bridge is ahead.  Our timing is just right, as the bridge only opens every half-hour on the half-hour, and that's just minutes away.  Another small monohull sailboat is right ahead of us, waiting for the bridge to open. 
        The bridge opens, and we proceed forward.  So far, so good.
        And then I see it: 
        Power lines.
        Omigosh.  How high are they?  How is it that I did not know there were power lines here?  I call the bridge operator on the VHF:  "How high are those power lines?"
bridge opens
        Bridge operator.  "I don't know, but a boat with a 60 ft. mast came thru here the other day with no problems."
        Me:   "We are 72 ft."
        We move forward, very, very, very slowly, with Tim ready to yank it into reverse if necessary.  We still cannot tell for sure if the wires are high enough.  Everyone on board is watching intently, with instructions to yell "STOP!" if necessary.
       Just a few feet away now.  A bird that was perched on the wires flies away as our mast top approaches.
       Closer ...
       Closer ...
       And ...
       We're clear!
       OMG.  My heart was pounding.
       I radio the bridge operator:  "In case anyone asks, we just went under the wires with a 72 ft. mast.  But, I think the tide is out."
 
close call with power lines
     
Later, I would pull out my nav charts and see how the heck I missed that when planning this route.  Here's what I found:  on ONE side of the channel, the chart gives all sorts of info and stats about the bridge.  But you must look on the OTHER side of the channel, where it just says:  "OVHD PWR CAB" and does not say what the clearance is.  But that message is not very clear or obvious.  Lesson learned:   When planning any kind of bridge crossing, closely examine the area in proximity to verify no other hazards.  But, I have no idea how to find out WHAT the clearance is; the bridge operator did not even know.
      Several other powerboats witnessed that close call, or were listening to the conversation on VHF.  A few came up to us to, um, I guess you could say, congratulate us?
view along Snake Creek
       Anyway, we proceed down the mile-long Snake Creek, which was incredibly lovely.  Mangroves line one bank, and on the other side are a series of canals, lined with homes and other dwellings. 
       Then we emerge into the bay on the north side.  We are now in the Gulf of Mexico.  The water is as calm and flat as can be, and a bit murky, with a greenish tint.  The cruising guide said that the water in the Keys was supposed to be crystal clear; maybe it will be so when we get down to the lower keys.  But it's sure not very inviting here.
Thinking man Jeremy
       We proceed northward and turn into the very well-marked channel, and on thru Steamboat Pass, one of many "thread the needle" channel passes, with reefs just outside the markers, that we would traverse over the next few days.
      Just on the other side of Steamboat is our planned stop for the night:  Shell Key, a small swampy island where the chart shows a lake right in the middle of it.  We drop anchor about a quarter of mile from its northern shore, as the depth approached four feet.  I don't have a good way to measure how much of my all-chain rode I have, so I just let out a whole bunch of it.  (Looks like we have well over a hundred feet of the stuff in the chain locker, if we ever need it.)  The kids hop in the dinghy and buzz off to explore.
       And so finally, after a very stressful day #1, and a very long day #2 filled with every emotion from severe anxiety to euphoria, Rainbows End is laying at anchor at a GORGEOUS spot with about an hour of daylight remaining.  The wind is blowing pretty good out of the SE; we open up all the hatches and let our vessel air out real good.  Kat and Theresa take over the galley, and soon the aroma of our first boat-cooked meal wafts all over. 
       And here come the flies.  Great big black nasty things that bite hard!  They are everywhere.  Onto our shopping list goes a flyswatter.  We had heard that bugs can be a problem in the keys, and we had procured repellant, but it seemed to have no effect on these beasts.  (Fortunately , time would tell that this was the only place on the whole trip where bugs bothered us.)
      But the cooks prevail, and supper is delicious!  Nine ravenous sailors scarf down a huge pot of spaghetti.   Compliments to the captain all around for a marvelously-planned vacation (so far) and an excellent spot to spend our first night out!

Day #3 - Sunday: Long Key Viaduct, Long Pt. Key, and the Black Rope of Death



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.

Swan dive

dinghy ride