Day #4 - Monday: Marathon, Seven-Mile Bridge, and Bahia Honda

girls in the forward cockpit

      The verdict on last night's attempt to go without the A.C.:  not good.  The most common complaint:  "It was sticky."  O well, we tried.  At least I slept well.

      Rainbows End is a beautiful vessel, but the interior design is not that great.  It does not do a good job of making use of space.  There's no reason why she doesn't have permanent sleeping berths for at least eight adults.  (Charisma did, and it was a considerably smaller vessel.)  The two forward "crew cabins" on Rainbows End are just a complete waste of space, unusable except perhaps for cargo, and even then, very difficult to get things in and out.  The "master" suite on the starboard side has a loveseat-sized couch which is too short for an average-sized adult, plus an unneeded desk (there's a desk up in the salon).  And we don't need three heads aboard. 

       So every night, we must convert the salon settee into a bed, then reverse the process every morning.  It gets old.  Although it is true that I came here, not for pampered comfort, but rather to sail, I still wish I had a bed I could call my own.

       Also, we need a full-sized table in the cockpit; I hate to keep comparing things to Charisma, but, you guessed it:  Charisma had one.  And finally, I'm not sold on the bridge being up over the cockpit; you cannot really visit with folks down in the cockpit from up there.

       Now for a few words about how to stay healthy and comfortable aboard a boat for a week, especially down in a hot climate.  There are some items and substances that all crew members should have and use.  At the top of the list, of course, is sunscreen.  And remember that sunscreen washes off if you swim or sweat profusely, so you must re-apply.  Along these lines, everyone should have a good hat.  Next on the list is body powder.  There are some body crevices that tend to stay wet, and persistent salt water in those places will eventually cause great discomfort.  (All of Rainbows Ends crew were good and powdered each day.)  Finally, regarding seasickness prevention:  it really depends on where you're going.  On our first day out, we were in the Atlantic where things were a bit rough.  But since then, we've been up in the very calm Gulf side of the islands where seasickness is not a problem.  So if you're going someplace with rough water, prepare accordingly.

Marathon, from the water

       Our first stop of the day is at Marathon, just a few miles from where we anchored last night, where we need to stock up on food, ice, beer, fuel, and water.  This will our last provisioning opportunity for the next 3 days and 3 nights, according to my planned itinerary.  After Marathon, we will reach the lower keys, where we turn northward out into the wild blue yonder.

       It is rather difficult to find a place that can handle a big catamaran such as ours, and the cruising guide is not much help.  So once again, we send in a "landing party" in the dinghy while Tim holds the mother ship stationary with the engine.  The first place we dinghy into is called Banana Bay.  The marina operator there was friendly and helpful, but unfortunately could not fit us.  He did, however, direct us to another marina not far away named Keys Fisheries.  He even called the marina operator there, Liz, to double-check with her, and even told us that we could easily reach her on VHF channel 19.  

       There was a small bit of confusion finding the entrance to the Keys Fisheries marina, which meant we wandered up and down Marathon's coast a couple of times, but we finally found the canal and made Rainbows End fast inside.  The girls caught a taxi into town to get groceries while us guys got fuel and water.  We had not burned much fuel, but we were SHOCKED at how much water had been used.  Later, we had a little "come to Jesus" crew meeting on the how's and why's of onboard water conservation.

Lunch at the Key Fisheries restaurant

       We had a magnificent lunch at the Keys Fisheries diner, right next door to the marina.  The diner was right on the water with a gorgeous view of the ocean.  While ordering drinks, it comes out in conversation with the bartender that everyone there at the diner had seen this big, gorgeous sailing catamaran puttering around right out there.  When Doug tells him, "Oh yeah, that's our boat", my head swelled up with so much pride that it almost exploded.

      As we loaded up the ice and other provisions in that steamy, hot, sweltering little marina, it was clear to all that we could not WAIT to get out of that sauna and back out into the nice, cool, breezy ocean again.  We cast off quickly, and soon Rainbows End was back in her element, and the crew was happy again.

      Our experiences in Fiesta Key and Marathon - finding a marina that could fit us, and how rare it was just to see a sailboat - really brought to mind a curious phenomena we had observed for the past few days:  sailing-wise, we are all alone here.  This was clearly the biggest surprise of this trip, so far.  Yes, we had seen a fair number of powerboats of all sizes.  But my research into the Keys had told me that this was a big sailing destination.  So where the heck were they?  Were they all out on the Atlantic side?  That's what Joe had kinda told us.  I'll have more contemplations on this topic later in this blog.

       So onward we sail in our relentless westward-bound trek.  The wind is still on our aft quarter, so we are again broad-reaching in a series of downwind tacks.  Rainbows End is clipping along at a good solid 6 knots. 

7-mile bridge

      Our route is now taking us right alongside the Seven-Mile Bridge out of Marathon.  With no more thread-the-needle passes on this leg of the trip, I don't need to sit right at the helm.  So I get up and stand up on the cabin top, and find that this is the coolest place in the whole world from which to drive Rainbows End!  I can see for miles, and even wave to the cars on the highway bridge.  (I hope they are watching the road, and not my bikini-clad "hood ornaments" up on the foredeck.)

hood ornament

       Eventually we reach the end of the bridge and come to Bahia Honda, our planned stop for the night, and drop anchor. The water is crystal-clear, so I grab snorkel and fins to swim out to give the anchor a quick visual inspection.  To my surprise, the plow-type anchor has NOT dug in.  The seabed seems to be made of hard-packed sand and crushed coral with nary a blade of seagrass in sight.  It's a darn good thing I checked it!  So we pulled up the anchor and tried again; still it is not holding.  Next I have Tim goose the engine in reverse for a few seconds with the anchor out; STILL no luck.  O boy - this could be a problem. 

       I have Mitch and Jeremy get in the dinghy, with a snorkel mask, and do some reconnaissance and see if they can find some seagrass, which might indicate that the seabed there is not quite so hard.  They putter around, then yell from a spot not too far away that the bottom there looks grassy.  We try that spot; it works!

       This incident really got me thinking - you really can never just assume that your anchor is well-set.  A visual inspection is the only sure way.  But what do you do if the water is too cold, or too murky?  Or if it's dark?

Beach babes

        There is a sandy beach right there on the island, only about a hundred yards away, so a group of us swim or dinghy ashore to check it out.  We spend an hour or so playing on the beach, throwing Frisbee, exploring, and finding seashells and interesting marine life.  And we have the whole place to ourselves!  But the noise of Highway #1, just on the other side of that mangrove swamp, constantly reminds us that we are not that far from

Horseshoe crab

civilization.

More fun on the beach