Trailerboat Launch

The shuttle was scheduled to lift off Thursday 5/16/96 at 6:30.  I had promised myself that I'd see one go up from the back of my boat so I planned a vacation from Wednesday 5/15 through Sunday 5/20.  My wife and daughter had a more pressing agenda, so I asked a friend if he'd like to go; we'd leave Tuesday after work.

The Sunday before the launch, I called 407/867-2525 (the NASA flight update line) and was disappointed to learn that the flight had been rescheduled for Sunday. I called my buddy and broke the news.  We mulled over the options and eventually decided to head south as planned, but we'd go to North Ft. Myers first, to check out trawlers for charter there, do some boating in the area, then head back to Titusville for the Sunday launch.

We did leave Tuesday after work, and spent the night in a Daytona motel.  At about noon the next day we were walking the docks at the North Ft. Myers charter agency.  We checked out the trawlers that were in and made a Saturday am appointment to see the others.  We then headed to Ft. Myers Beach for charts and then on to the ramp at Punta Rassa.  By 2pm we were out in the Gulf of Mexico marveling at the sights of FMB and Sanibel.

The boat is a 15' 11" cuddy with a 60 HP Outboard.  When my wife and I go out overnight, we both sleep in the cuddy.  The boat came with a 14 gallon water tank, porta potty and a back curtain that completes the enclosure of the helm when the dodger and side curtains are in place.  I also took the camper back option which encloses the entire cockpit.  The weather was so pleasant during the entire Florida experience that we never even put up the dodger.  I slept in the cabin and my buddy, being the amateur astronomer that he is, went to sleep with the stars in his face, athwartship in the cockpit on an inflatable air mattress. 

The nights were clear as a bell.  We spent the first one at anchor in the Caloosahatchie about 1/2 mile down river from the HWY 41 bridges in 4' of water.  The breeze was blowing our stern to the beach and it was a little lumpier that if we'd snugged to the other shore,  but given the choice, I'll take an onshore breeze every time, even if the fetch creates a chop.  An onshore breeze comes in bug free across the water.  We witnessed the sunset and had fresh coffee via the Magma at sunrise without experiencing bug #1. 

That night, even though we had a cellular phone aboard, we called home via the VHF.  This was a first for me, and it's pretty slick.  You turn to the marine operator channel and key the mike for 3 to 5 seconds.  You get an automated welcome message and then hear the phone ringing.  A person answers and asks you the name of your boat, and who you want to call.  The phone rings again and someone at your house answers.  "Hi Suzy, this is Jeff.  We're swinging on the hook in the Caloosahatchee, over?"   The calls are billed collect, unless you have an account.  Anyone with a VHF can make a call -- it's not private, but it gets the job done.

We noted all the 'Slow -- Manatee' signs on our early morning cruise up the river toward Lake Okeechobee, but evidently the Manatee only hang out in the Caloosahatchee during certain months, so the good news was we didn't have to slow down, the bad news was we didn't get to see any manatee.

I'd done my share of locking on the NY Barge Canal, Dismal Swamp and a previous trip across the Okeechobee Waterway, but I thought it would be good experience for my buddy to participate in a lock through.  The Franklin Lock is at about MM 122 on the Okeechobee Waterway, just a short run from the Ft. Myers area.  We gave the lockmaster a shout on VHF 13, but noted on arrival that there was a line at the end of the lock fenders that one could pull to activate a horn that requests lock passage.  The lock is only a couple feet higher on the up river side and the lines are already dangling from the lock walls.  Boaters put the starboard side to the lock wall, grab a line and wait until it's over.  It's a very simple, uncomplicated pleasant process taking about 15 minutes.  After locking through, we couldn't resist the urge to keep going east on the waterway.

Prior to becoming a mini-stink owner, my cruising was done an a 27 foot sailboat and a 35 foot trawler.  I call it rags to riches.  My wife and I lived (really camped) on the sailboat for over 2 years.  No running water, no electricity, no refrigeration...  The trawler on the other hand, had air conditioning, large refrigerator w/ freezer, gas range w/ oven, microwave, 2 heads, 3 showers, queen bed, you name it.  Both were heavy and slow, each with it's advantages.  The sailboat took us on extended cruises from Rhode Island to the Caribbean.  The trawler didn't take us to many far away places, but it took us in style and comfort.  (It's funny how as we get older, our sense of adventure takes a back seat to our desire for comfort).  Both boats produced a fear in me of docks and bottoms.  I never got near shore unless it was absolutely necessary.  Kedging off either of those 2 boats was an all day harrowing experience, and approaching the dock or slip was equally nerve wracking.  The little 16 foot stink (we call her 'QT' because she's such a cutie) provides all the boating opportunity of the previous boats with of course compromises in range and comfort, but she does bring us several new dimensions.  She's a shallow water magnet when it comes to exploring, she's small enough to handle and tie up like a dingy at the anchorages where the real cruisers hang out, and she is capable of 30 mph.  When the need for comfort exceeds that which is afforded by QT, we put her back on the trailer or tie up at a marina and check into a motel.

But continuing our cruise up the Caloosahatchie...

After locking through, we slowly made our way inland to LaBelle.  If we had been cruising aboard the sail boat or trawler, LaBelle probably would have been an overnight stop, but with the ability to exceed 10 mph along with not having to wait for bridges, LaBelle was a midday stopover.  The town dock had 2 boats along side and I would have felt perfectly comfortable squeezing into the 20' that was still available, but we opted for the shallow dock at the public ramp across the river.  Again, had we been in the sailboat or trawler we would have had to make some heavy decisions...

After getting ice from the bait shop near the ramp, we leisurely headed back downstream.  We hooked out at a bend where visibility was good in all directions and went for a refreshing fresh water swim.  We didn't see any alligators, and I guess they didn't see us.  We had a leisurely sandwich lunch and were on our way.

We didn't call the lockmaster at the Franklin Lock on our way back through, we used the boat hook to pull the line which activated the horn.  I prefer this to using the VHF -- mine is a handheld and it's stowed unless I plan to use it.

We continued down the river and back out into the Gulf.  We tracked local boats rounding Pt. Ybel at the tip of Sanibel, and kept a sharp eye on our depth sounder as we followed in their wake.  We headed up the coast in about 5' of water, watching the sunbathers and swimmers on the Gulf side of Sanibel.  When trees replaced condos on the beach, we anchored.  I drop an 8S Danforth from the stern and usually tie it off to the quarter, that way the breeze blows in over the transom.  If we need a different attitude because of the seas, I will move the rode forward to ease the motion.  In this case, the wind and seas were mild out of the southeast and we let the anchor lie from the quarter.  Things were so peaceful, we decided to stay there for the night.

With QT, I have become almost lackadaisical about anchoring, especially compared to the procedure we used in the Bahamas and Caribbean.  With the other boats, we would always set 2 anchors, back down to ensure a good bite and then dive on them to be sure they were set cleanly.  In addition, we made it a point to be aboard for at least the first tide change (after which it was permissible to open the rum).  With QT, I kill the engine, throw out the hook, pay out about 5 to 1 scope, cleat her off  and let her fetch up on her own as she drifts.  I know the Gulf can get rough quickly, so for insurance I checked the GPS to make sure the track from the causeway bridge to the anchorage was in tact.  I had experimented successfully on a clam night in Charleston, following the GPS track from Wild Dunes to Charleston Harbor in the dead of night.  I knew if the weather got lousy in the Gulf that night, we could follow the GPS track back to the inside of Sanibel without needing much visibility.

The stars were so bright they reflected off the water.  The seas built a little and I moved the rode to the forward cleat and finally to the bow.  The boat would lie to the wind, then shift to the seas, then back again.  It was somewhat lumpy and a bit loud below, but we both slept comfortably.

There's nothing like fresh coffee at sunup.  Ok, coffee in tea bags, but there's still nothing like it.  Those were the only two times we fired up the stove -- to make coffee at sunup.  My wife had great difficulty provisioning.  This was because I insisted she follow my shopping list:  Lets see, Cheetos, dry roast peanuts, milk, sandwich meat, coffee, cereal, soft drinks, chips and bread.  I had to threaten her to prevent her from buying/packing the fruit, vegetables, condiments and other healthy stuff that must be taken on family cruises.  She should have taken comfort in that we supplemented our meals aboard with Hot Wings and the like, but every time I called home I was reminded: "Now you find some salad ashore."  Right, like a couple guys are going out cruising with salad on their minds...

Being a visitor without 'local knowledge' I didn't want to head north and chance Redfish Pass (the inlet between Captiva and North Banks) early in the morning from the outside in, so as soon as the sun was above the horizon we lazed back to Pt. Ybel and explored the canals and homes that are accessible via a channel just up inside from the point.  We spent several hours in the canals and ended up having lunch at the marina restaurant in that cozy water community.

After all the slow exploring we wanted to get her up on a plane and have some wind in our faces for awhile, so we motored up the backside of Sanibel past Blind Pass (between Sanibel and Captiva) and on to and past Captiva.  As Redfish Pass came abeam we heard the Gulf calling us.  The weather and seas were perfect so we headed out.  The channel is well marked and plenty deep for a 16 foot outboard.  As we emerged into the Gulf we couldn't resist turning north.  We hugged the beach from South Banks to North Captiva and before we knew it we were approaching Captiva Pass.  We ran the inlet and were headed for the channel back south when we decided to explore the little bay at the inside north end of North Captiva.  The way in was a little confusing when we came to a house that was in the middle of the channel.  We took an outside course and made it fine, but noticed that what appeared to be a local boat behind us, opted for the inside route and they also had no apparent trouble.  Just goes to show you how accommodating the area is.  There were a couple places in the little bay where a thirsty boater could take comfort, but we didn't partake.

We hadn't yet explored Ft. Myers Beach, so we scurried down Pine Island Sound and under the bridge to the beach front.  We drifted in about 5 feet of water for an hour or so watching the swimmers, jetskis and parasailers.  FMB is so diverse.  There are retired folks, sunning, swimming and pushing their metal detectors up and down the beaches.  There are middle aged couples with their families, picnicing/vacationing, and there is the younger group who enjoy jetskiing, parasailing dancing etc.  We didn't actually set foot on it, but there is a very nice fishing pier right in the middle of everything too! FMB is a very comfortable place, with something for everyone.

My stomach began to complain, so we lit up the outboard and made for Matanzas Pass at the end of Estero Island.  We ran the pass with no problems even though there was a dredge working there, and hugged the northern shore of Estero as we made our way east up the backside of FMB.  Just beyond the Estero Island/mainland bridge we came upon a diverse fleet of anchored boats.  I can't resist idling through such an anchorage, wondering about where the boats have been, where they are bound and what their owners are like.  As we put the last of the anchored fleet to stern, my stomach growled again and I remembered that our mission was food.  By this time we had circumnavigated the anchorage and were back at the bridge where there is a waterside restaurant.  We tied up at their dock and had a delightful dinner.

We knew we'd need to get the boat back on the trailer first thing the next morning, so we wanted to find a place to drop the hook that wasn't too far from the Punta Rassa ramp.  We decided to try a little cove SE of Big Shell Island at Marker "96".  We hooked out with plenty of day light left. We were surrounded by trees in 4 feet of water.  There was one other boat in the cove.  Another boat joined us before long and as we watched him settle in, I told my buddy that one of the most potentially entertaining aspects of cruising was watching others anchor, and if it's not entertaining, it will at least be educational.

When you come into an anchorage you want to find 2 maybe 3 other boats.  If there's only one, it might not be a good place to stop.  If there's 5 or 6 boats in a cozy spot, it will probably be tough to find the exact place to drop the hook, all the best spots will have all been taken.  You want to have your hook down and be comfortable before the next boat comes in -- to watch the show.  A couple will come in.  The guy will be on the bow with the ground tackle.  He'll  know exactly where he thinks he wants to plant the hook.  He turns to his wife and points and shouts directions.  She works the helm, inching toward the spot he has in mind.  When the spot is close, he releases the hook and lets it dangle as he holds the rode.  He's going to tell her to take it out of gear, but as he gets right on top of the spot, he thinks maybe a little more to port might be better.  He's holding the rode so he doesn't turn around, but he shouts, "to port, to port!".  She doesn't hear him because he's facing forward, looking down.  She throttles back and he's expecting a move to port.  He hollers, she doesn't hear.  He ties off the rode and goes back to the cockpit.  There is gesturing and conversation.  He may take a turn at the helm before he goes forward again.  Finally the anchor is released.  He instructs, "back her down".  She may not hear him, but she knows to back down.  The boat makes way astern but does not go in the anticipated direction.  The other boats are lying to the wind and this one is backing to port, getting nearer than comfortable to another anchored boat.  He hollers, she doesn't hear...  He may opt to bring the hook back aboard, do some piloting himself and eventually put the hook down 10 or 15' from where it is now, if so, it starts over.  If the anchor is set, then there's the question of more scope, or less?  This challenge could take 6 or 8 more-less adjustments before a solution is apparent.  The time between adjustments could be 2 or 3 minutes or 1/2 hour or more.  When the anchoring adventure is over there will be VHF chatter, then dinghies will begin migrating to other boats.  Sea stories and grog will be shared by people who have the water in common.

Our latest visitor to the anchorage did not afford the usual entertainment.  He was a single hander on what appeared to be a home built ferro ketch.  I explained to my buddy that single handers are the epitome of casual efficient procedures.  This guy was no exception when it came to anchoring.  He was so casual and efficient he was almost boring, but as we watched, we wondered where he'd been, where he was going -- and why.

As the sun disappeared, so did our serenity.  Mosquitoes!  We weren't unprepared, but we were caught by surprise.  After a few weekends aboard in Charleston, I realized that if I was going to make a habit out of spending nights on the boat, I'd better be ready for no-see-ums and mosquitoes.  The camper back I'd bought as an option has a frame, as does the dodger.  I bought some no-see-um netting and sewed up a canopy that attached to the corners of the camper back frame in back and at the dodger frame in front.  The net simply hangs down to the cockpit sole, draping over the dash and companionway.  There are several patches of velcro at the gunnels and stern, to keep the net in place.  But this was the first time it was to be deployed under battle conditions (and in the dark).  We finally got it up and secured, then with the flashlight we systematically eradicated all the bloodsucking vermin that had made their way inside.  I have a similar smaller screen rig for the forward hatch -- it's a commercial job that fits over the open hatch and is held in place by a stainless steel chain sewn into the hem.  Between the two anti-bug systems, we had a pleasant night.

After watching the sun come up the next morning, we lit her up and headed for the ramp.  It took about 1/2 hr to get her out and road ready.  We stopped for donuts and coffee, then hit the charter outfit to see the rest of their power fleet; then on to Titusville.

We were really hyped about seeing the shuttle go up.  So much so, that the minute we spotted a ramp on the Canaveral Barge canal, we backed her in the water and were off.  We didn't realize we'd not only forgotten the food we'd brought for snacks, dinner and breakfast (fortunately we did leave the cooler aboard), we also forgot the camera.  Of course we missed the food right away and easily decided we could have bologna sandwiches without bread, and we could get breakfast landside after the launch, but the camera didn't turn up missing until it was too late, like 5am the next morning.

Between the ramp where we put in and the anchorage, there were at least 2.5 gazillion signs regarding the manatee and their unfortunate situation .  We'd been strongly advised by several local folks to obey the signs to the letter, so we did.  Some were for "No Wake", some were for "Slow Speed Within 25 Feet of Shore" and some were "No Entry With Motors".  We almost missed the "No Entry with Motors" signs on the Banana river about a mile or so north of the Canaveral Barge canal.  I had watched the video, "The Way South, Part II" and the fellow narrating said we could go north on the Banana to the bridge, but evidently the video is out of date.  Anyway, when we came to the signs that wouldn't allow further passage, we wanted to be sure we were in the right place, so we imposed on a nearby anchored trawler with a Titusville hailing port.

"We came to watch the launch.  Will we be able to see it from here and if so, which area is the active pad?"  The trawler had a barking dog, so it was hard to hear, but we understood that we were in the right place and a gesture seemingly pointed in the general direction of 1 of the 2 pads.  The fellow then suggested we anchor about 1/8 mile up river behind that little island (far enough away to keep his dog from barking?) - which we did.

Not long after we were settled, another boat cruised in.  It was a family with 2 kids on a 19 foot IO.  He asked us the same questions we asked the trawler, and we told him what we'd learned.  Then the entertainment started as they anchored.  They were successfully anchored/positioned on the 3rd try.  After they were settled for about an hour, the fellow pulled up the hook and swung by our boat.  "The Coast Guard just came on the VHF saying that all boats must move down below marker 15 -- so we're going."  I told him I would wait until they ran me out.

About 60 minutes later, I heard the Coast Guard with the same message and decided we'd move while there was still daylight.  Down we went to marker '15A' where there were a cluster of boats.  We were the entertainment as we dropped the hook and swung to a poor vantage point, then reanchored at another place.  About 10 minutes later the VHF was alive with a Coast Guard Auxiliary person asking how to handle the vessels that were anchored too far up river.  The Coast Guard confirmed that if boats were north of the power lines, they would have to move.

'15 A' is north of the power lines, and so were we.  We pulled up the anchor and moved to a prime spot 5 feet south of the power lines.  There were 7 or 8 boats in this area.  After about an hour, when there was no sign of the coast guard shagging out the boats anchored farther north we began to wonder if we'd been had, but decided to keep our select spot in the 'south of the powerlines' anchorage.

Just before the sun hit the horizon, someone turned on the lights at the Challenger pad.  We were over 7 miles away, but the place still looked like a ride at Disney World.  With the glasses, we could see the shuttle perched on the back of the boosters.  The light that spilled past the rocket and gantry light up the sky like searchlights at a grand opening.  Now there was no doubt that we were in the right place and there was no doubt which pad to keep our eye on.  I did remember to put a radio aboard; we searched for a station that would give us a rundown on what was happening.  Was the countdown proceeding?  The radio was music, music, music.  Can you remember the last time you complained about music being on the radio?  Finally a local station gave us the information we wanted to hear.  The launch was still a go for Sunday morning @ 6:30 am.  Just then we heard the rattling of chain.

It was a big boat coming into the anchorage.  There was little sunlight left for navigating.  Spotlights were searching for a place to drop the hook.  We couldn't see too well, or hear above the drone of the engines, but we knew the story.  The rattling of anchor chain confirmed several chapters.  Then another boat came in, then another, and another.  Then it dawned on us -- the Coast Guard was uprooting all boats anchored north of the power lines.  We complimented each other on our excellent choice of location, especially compared to where the others would end up, and patted each other on the back for being such conscientious sailors.

The sky was clear and there was a gentle breeze as we turned in.  It was hard to get any sleep knowing what lay ahead in the morning. I got up several times during the night to feast my eyes on the brightly lit giant.  If there were any bugs that night, they must not have gotten the news from the Coast Guard to be south of the power lines, because there weren't any bugs at all where we were.

I was up at about 5am...couldn't sleep...couldn't keep my eyes off the giant.  I would have made coffee, but the coffee was in the car.  I fiddled with the radio, searching for a station that would give us an update.  The only talking I could find was some religious stuff, and I guess that's OK as it was a Sunday, but it wasn't what I was interested in.  Just as I turned away from the station my buddy said, "Hey, that sounded like the tower."

I switched back and sure enough, there was chatter about the shuttle, but only briefly, then more religious stuff.  Before long it became apparent that the radio station was relaying sporadic shuttle radio traffic.  Just before 6am the radio station became exclusively Shuttle/Command Center/Houston radio transmission relays.  There were long periods of silence and it might have seemed there was no station on the air, but that was because there was nothing to relay at the time.  An announcer came on during one of the silent spells to explain why there was so much silence and to solicit phone comments about the broadcast.  The station is at 91.5FM but we didn't get the call letters or phone number.

Ten, nine, eight, ...  I found myself  holding my breath as the radio counted down ... three, two, one ... we have liftoff.  There's no possible way for me to express the awe and magnificence I experienced as the giant emerged from the snow white billowing cloud at the pad.  Slowly the giant climbed out of the cloud, displaying the fire that pushed him skyward.  Tears came to my eyes as he rose majestically -- then the sound.  Being as far away as we were, the sound wasn't loud, but it was BIG.  It was the biggest sound I've ever heard in my life.  The biggest sound I've ever heard in my life.  The biggest.  I'll bet if  my eyes hadn't been glued to the giant, I could have seen that sound coming toward me across the water.

We watched until the contrail pointed to what looked like a tiny bright star; the sound continued.  Big sound.  We didn't speak.  We just watched and listened and felt.  It's an experience not to be missed.  The watching and listening have passed, but the feeling continues.  The overwhelming feeling continues.

We didn't talk much about the launch on the 10 hour trip home.  We'd both been there and we both knew there weren't any words that would work.  We did promised to go again and take the families.  We also planned the next trailerboat cruise.

Blue Angel Log Entry 7/11-14/97

Pulled my 15'11" Cuddy (w/50 HP Honda) from Spartanburg, SC to Pensacola with a buddy, Sadler.  We left Thursday afternoon, so we spent the night just shy of Montgomery -- we put the boat in the water about 11am Friday at the public ramp at Shoreline Park in English Navy Cove.

We immediately made for the inlet and dropped the hook on East Bank for a leisurely lunch.  After lunch we headed east to Pensacola Beach.  As we arrived, the Blue Angels showed up for practice.  We anchored and watched the show preview.

About 4pm we pulled in the hook and debated which direction to go.  Sadler said he thought there was an inlet to the east (near Navarre Beach), where 399 goes north to join 98, but I didn't have a chart to verify.  We headed east and after leaving the fishing pier sufficiently to stern, we decided the road map just wasn't good enough for navigation.  We continued east anyway, as I knew from a road trip 8 years earlier that there was an inlet at Destin, and surely we could get back in at Panama City if not at Destin.

We ran the inlet at Destin and spent some time in the little harbor east of the inlet just short of the bridge.  We topped off the tank with 9 gallons but the marina didn't have a chart -- "No one uses charts around here..."

We picked up the ICW and headed west.  When it started to get dark, we hooked out just short of the Navarre bridge.  We cooked hot dogs one at a time on the single burner (camping) stove and ate them on unadorned buns...they tasted sooo good!

We had a few mosquito visitors, but otherwise an uneventfull night.  Wheaties and coffee for breakfast and we were on our way.  We needed ice and bread so we beached the boat at Fishing Bend near the bridge and picked up the supplies at the 7-11.  A friendly local named Pete met us at the beach, taught us the ins and outs of getting ashore from a beached boat and provided other 'local knowledge'. By the time we were ready to leave we had a challenge threading past the swimmers and other boats -- man that place filled up fast.

We went back out the inlet, and made our way to Pensacola Beach.  We knew the exact spot to be because we'd been there the day before for the practice.  We dropped the hook about 12:30 in 35 feet of water, observing that there were not as many boats in the Gulf as yesterday.  But other boats rapidly joined us until there were perhaps 300 boats swinging on the hook in close quarters.  The weather was clear and calm so there were no collisions, but judging from the way most folks casually anchored, if the weather had been brisk, the anchorage would have been a rats nest of dragging anchors and tangled rodes.

The show was awsome!  We had the sun at our backs and it appeared we were much closer to the action than the thousands of folks crowded on the beach.  There were a couple instances where a Blue Angel got so close we could see the moisture boiling off the wings -- we guessed the pass overhead put him less than 200 feet from our boat.  The anchorage was in extatic cheer as the roar of the engines followed the plane off to the horizon.  The Stealth Bomber looked like spaceship out of a science fiction movie as it showed us it's stuff.

After the show, the wind picked up and it began to cloud over.  Everyone made a mad dash for the inlet.  The picture behind us looked like the Charge of the Light Brigade only with wakes.  Things calmed down as we made our way back inland and the skies even cleared.

With substantial daylight left, we decided to do some exploring.  We still didn't have charts, so we were playing it by ear.  Looking back, I think we spent some time in Bayou Texar up from the Public Ramp at the East side of the Pensacola end of the Pensacola Bay Bridge.  It was a nice protected area -- the only place we saw any water skiiers.  Comming back, we ended up in Bayou Chico at Harbor View Marine where the friendly folks fixed us up with gas, water and a chart.  We asked about a restaurant on the water.  They recommended The Manatee on the Inner Harbour.

We found The Manatee and tied the boat up out back.  The food was excellent and very reasonable.  It's a place I would enjoy taking my family to.

It got dark quickly -- before we cast off.  We relied on the GPS to get us across the bay and back out into the Gulf.  We found the spot on East Bank where we'd had lunch the day before and dropped the hook for the night.  It's a tradition to spend the night anchored in the Gulf -- we'd done it about a year earlier at Sanibel, before trailering to Titusville to watch a shuttle go up.

We spent a pleasant night in the Gulf and after debating on whether to go east or west, we opted for a westward direction.  We ran the Pensacola Inlet in to the ICW and leisurely followed it west to Dauphin Island.  The waterway is pretty and diverse along the Gulf waterway.  I prefer unspoiled narrow stretches, but Sadler found charm in the oil rigs and shrimping trawlers in Bon Secour Bay.

We didn't really need gas, but the cold drinks were running thin, so we poked into the channel just north of Fort Gaines and made our way west to a marina just short of the bridge in Dauphin Island Bay.  The run from Mobile Bay to the marina is all at idle speed in a channel at the water's edge, but the guy at the dock enlightened us to a short-cut back across the bay.  There was a restaurant near the marina which served up a hamburger that I'm sure was better than the Spam we would have to have eaten aboard.

As we left Dauphin Island astern, we couldn't resist the urge to try the Gulf.  It wasn't flat, but the weather was clear and pleasant so we figured we shoot back to the Pensacola inlet from the Gulf side.  I might have explored the two intermediate inlets we passed on the way back to Pensacola, but Sadler was at the helm as we passed each one and wasn't interested in abandoning the Gulf, so we stayed outside.

We arrived back at the ramp around 6pm and by 6:30 we were on the way back home.

Engine hours = 21

Fuel used = 44 gallons

Trip log = 300 miles

Anchor Pulpit Rot

About 18 months ago, I fitted a piece of 2 X 10 to the bow of my boat as a place to store/deploy/retrieve the anchor. I gave it several coats of paint and sealed all the fastener holes with silicone. I usually would have put a coat of epoxy on before the paint, but this seemed like a very stout piece of wood and the boat would be under cover on the trailer.

 

I hinged it at the back so I could swing it up when the boat was being trailered otherwise the anchor could hit the back of my van on a sharp turn.

Several months ago, I noticed a small crack in the wood that was fastened to the deck. I thought I might have stressed the wood when I tightened the 1/2" bolts holding it down. But recently I learned otherwise. The back end of the board as well as the part bolted to the deck were rotted.

So I learned something about wood. It doesn't take long for it to get soft.

Another piece, this time with a couple of coats of epoxy? Naw, I'm not doing wood again.

I got a piece of Starboard cut to size - 1-1/2" thick, 9 1/4 wide and 35" long. I cut 4" off the end for the mounting block.

I love working with this stuff. It cuts so nicely on the radial arm saw and is very cooperative under the drill press and trims nicely with the router.

 

And no more rot to worry about.

Yea - I had a brain fart and mounted the winch on the wrong side to begin with... and I stepped on the 40 year old hardened dorade vent over to port and pulverized it.

Lowering the Mast

Rig topping lift and mainsheet so boom is perpendicular to mast. Snug mainsheet. When mast is fully lowered the boom will be vertical and you might want to make sure your mainsheet is long enough to go that far before you go any proceed.

Remove aft lowers and rig them through blocks to sheet winches.


Remove backstay.

Grab headstay and pull aft to get mast moving forward - easing mainsheet and sheet winches. The mainsheet controls the lowering and the aft lowers (sheeted to she sheet winches) are used to keep the mast centered.

Keep sheeting out on the main while keeping the lowers snug at the winches..
As the mast goes lower, the sheet winches will need to work harder as the mainsheet will lose it's centering ability.

 There is a point when the aft lowers to the sheet winches will become less and less effective, but by this time the mast can be steadied by hand from the foredeck.

Lower the mast all the way down. If you have a tabernacle, the mast heel will be pinned firm to the tabernacle, but even without a tabernacle we did not experience the mast heel wanting to come up off the step.

Electric Boat Trailer Tongue Jack

An electric trailer tongue jack is not a convenience for me, it's darn near a necessity w/ 1,200 lbs tongue weight on my 12,000 lbs boat/trailer rig.

My trailer has electric brakes so I do have a 12 volt breakaway battery on the trailer, and it's enough to work a 12 volt tongue jack, which I installed to the tune of  >$150. It is billed at 3,500lbs lifting.

Breakaway battery.

The 12 volt jacks work OK, but they're not made to hold up for a long period. The tiny teeth and large gear give this thing a lot of torque, but a little moisture/rust will put it out of commission. Eventually my 12 volt jack bit the dust. They're not worth rebuilding.

The 'best' jacks out there can cost over $300 - ouch. Should I just get the $150 jack and plan on replacing it every couple years? I couldn't bring myself to spend $150 on something that just wasn't going to last, so I bought a $25 top wind jack.

Manually winding this thing got old fast. I needed get a motor on this thing somehow. I took off the jack handle and tried my 1/2" drill (which did chuck up on the shaft), but it didn't have enough grunt to move the jack under full load. I needed a drill with more torque.

Then good old Harbor Freight sent me an eMail with a coupon for a Slow Speed 1/2" drill - $39!, which I immediately took advantage of.

This baby was geared to go 550 rpm at 7.5 amps. And it worked like a charm.

Harbor Freight drill chucked up on jack shaft.

 So for a 25 buck jack and a 40 buck drill, I have an electric trailer jack. And because I have a generator on my boat, with an outlet in the chain locker, I can put the drill in my van and run this baby on the road.

I decided rather than getting the chuck key out every time I wanted to use the drill for the jack, I'd make an adapter that I would leave in the chuck. Now I can use a pin to attach the drill to the jack.

But my $25 jack didn't have enough travel to get my bow high enough to have the garboard drain empty the bilge when Big Duck was on the trailer in the back yard. This meant I'd have to use at least 4" of spacer under the jack foot. With the spacer I now had to jack and block to get the tongue low enough to land on the ball when I hit the road.

Then I discovered Fastway Flip at about $50. This gizmo adds 6" to my trailer tongue only when it's extended.

On the road again -
Just can't wait to get on the road again.


Follow up on the drill powered tongue jack:

First - I love it.

Second - I got lazy and just left it installed on the trailer in the rain and snow. It has weathered well.

And Last - that thing has too much torque. I was running the trailer tongue up and down to swish out the bilge and the cord got wrapped around my hand. The cord also wrapped the handle on top. It nearly twisted my arm off and continued to run even after I extracted myself from the tangle. because the cord was now holding the unguarded trigger in the on position. It eventually unplugged itself but not until after it ripped the handle off the top of the drill.

It still works fine, even with the broken handle and rain/snow it has endured, but now all my tongue movements are done in short bursts.

OK, one more caveat - If you use the Fastway Flip with the electric drill, it's possible to run the foot up too high. The Fastway unit stops the leg from coming up and the torque from the drill will actually pull the female screw assembly out of the  inner tube and the leg will become disconnected and fall. So as soon as that Fastway is flipped up -- stop.

I took the jack off when my leg fell, to see if I could salvage it. The female screw assembly is easily tapped back into the top of the inner tube.


 One more (final) update on the Fast Way Flip.
 Because it was a miserable failure on my 12,000 lb boat trailer I moved it to my 16' single axle camper and it took no time in destroying the jack on that light trailer.

Save your money - it caused me much undue aggravation and expense.

Today I use a drop foot on the 120vac jack and it's as good as it gets.

San Salvador to Beaufort

March 25th 1978

Dear AJ & Don,

First, we must tell you how much we enjoyed the time we spent with you.  Thanks so much for all your hospitality.

We left Little San Salvador a few hours earlier than we planned.  We were doing so much rolling that sleep was impossible, so we took off about midnight.  We had a beautiful downwind sail, arriving at Norman's at noon the next day.  Norman's  soon filled until, by sunset, we had 35 other boats in the anchorage.  We were not sorry to leave the next morning...

We spent 3 days in Nassau restocking and waiting out another Norther, then left in the company of Nanda II (a 31' Southern Cross) for Frozen-Alder in the Berry's.  We took off the following morning for Beaufort, the beginning of an exciting 700 mile, six day trip.

The first night was spent dodging cruise ships on a broad reach through Northwest Providence Channel.  The next 3 days and nights were a very pleasant downwind run doing 5-6 knots in the Gulf Stream.  On day 3 (the second day in the stream), we got a position check form a passing tug which verified our DR position.  On day 4 we had 5 hours of near calm, just before which our jib halyard shackle let loose, sending the jib to the deck and the halyard to the masthead..  Jeff winched me up the mast to retrieve it, fortunately, the wind was light at the time.  As the sun set that evening, the wind died and the rain began and continued until midnight.  Jeff motored for 5 hours, but was able to set sail again just after 12:00.  The lightning display that night was most impressive and thankfully kept it's distance.

The wind began it's veering act after the rain, so that by sunset the 5th evening we had winds on the beam (going forward) at 25 - 30 kts and 40 degree temps!  The wind steadily increased so that by midnight we were down to storm jib alone and making 5 kts.  The seas were at least to the spreaders and the 3/4 moon allowed us to see the Gulf Stream chop that occurs when the stream and wind are from opposite directions.  Every 5th wave or so broke over the boat, and the wind grew to a steady 40 kts, gusting to 50.  Absolutely incredible!  We took 2 hour watches in the cockpit as we'd never sailed in a gale before and didn't know how the Aries would handle the situation.  The Aries proved it's weight in gold, keeping us right on course -- handling the tiller when I'm sure we would have become exhausted.  Besides the wind and breaking seas, the air temp was cold enough to make things very miserable, so after each taking one watch, we gave it up and went below to the warmth of the cabin heater -- resigned to look out every 15 minutes to be sure another boat wasn't bearing down on us.  The Aries handled it all superbly.  We did heave to at 4am to get some sleep, and again "Thora" responded beautifully -- the motion was greatly reduced and only an occasional wave would bury the boat.

The wind continued at 30 - 35 all the next day dictating storm jib and trisail.  We were able to point 60 degrees off the wind, but beating in the Gulf Stream is anything but relaxing.  By 9:30 the fifth night we were abeam Frying Pan Light -- figuring another 18 hours to Beaufort.  The wind and chop picked up once again, however, so that we were now falling off the back side of the Gulf Stream's flat topped waves.  It's terribly nerve wracking anticipating and then experiencing  the trip up the front of the wave, then the crash through the flat top, then the fall down the back side...again and again and again...  By 4am it was too much and we hove to again to get an hours sleep.

It was frustrating being so close to Beaufort, but having to make agonizingly slow time tacking.  By 9am the 6th day, things quieted down to 20-25kts - we continued beating in the 30 degree temps, staying below as much as possible.  Within 20 miles of Beaufort, the wind slackened so that with the left over chop we were making little to no progress.  We tried to start the engine, but alas, the battery was dead and attempts to hand crank were fruitless.  (We later discovered a bad intake valve which lowered compression to the point that the hand crank was ineffective.)  So, at sunset, we were becalmed 10 miles out of Beaufort with no motor.  We took this time to compose ourselves and get a little rest.  It was actually a rather pleasant respite after two days of gale and near gale winds;  having no wind and no motor, we slowed down both physically and mentally, content to wait for the wind. 

When the wind came, it was ideal...over the transom and light, on an incoming tide.  At 10pm we were tuning our course based on the strength of the Beaufort AM radio station and the relative position of our cheap AM radio.  We had no running lights due to the dead battery and were concerned when we discovered a dredge in the channel.  We successfully dodged the dredge twice (he seemed to be following us and without a VHF and no running lights we had no way of knowing if he saw us...) only to find that he had moved the channel while we were away.  After an hour of fumbling our way in (and anchoring in the channel at one point to decide which way one now had to go to avoid the shoals), we were safely in the harbor.  By 2:30am we were swinging safely from our mooring in front of Beaufort, sharing Oreos and Bahamian rum w/ OJ, congratulating ourselves on our seamanship -- and feeling VERY good.

Jeff awoke @ 7am Sunday and went ashore to call customs -- no answer, so we called the Coast Guard who advised we had 48 hrs to clear -- we later learned it's really only 24 hours.  We then both went ashore for a much needed bath and to recount our sailing adventures with our sailing friends.  Before noon the same day, we both had jobs, starting 8am Monday.