Apalachicola + Gulf Crossing

The adventure is back on.

Made a short sail from Port St. Joe over to Apalachicola, the jumping off point for boats crossing the Gulf. The channel was narrow and the whole time our GPS was telling us we were on land. It made me giggle when I thought that my friends' phones could have told me where I was within 20 feet, but a GPS specifically designed for marine use couldn't even figure out we were on water. D'oh.

Apalachicola was a pretty neat town. Very quaint and old-Florida style, but somehow really touristy at the same time. Not as friendly as Port St. Joe. There's a story that around the turn of the century Apalachicola and Port St. Joe were ravaged by Yellow Fever. Seventy-five percent of Port St. Joe's population and sixty percent of Apalachicola's population died from it, leaving hardly anyone left in the two neighboring cities. All of the large, fancy houses were moved from Port St.Joe to Apalach, where more of the population remained. Something of an indication as to the difference between the two towns that carried on through the years. Everyone in the Port St. Joe Marina was incredibly friendly and welcoming; the boat across the way from us in the Apalach Municipal Marina had a bullet hole in the window. I have my allegiances with PSJ.


We went out St. Patrick's Day night because, even though we were in a small, not-too-happening town, I was convinced I could find the party. Found a bar that was blaring Irish jams, and knew that's where it was at. We went inside to find completely different music. An old man was playing Give My Regards to Broadway (an Irish classic?) on a keyboard and what looked like the geriatric club of Apalach sitting inside mumbling along with the lyrics. We can always find the party.

___

Then we crossed the Gulf, an experience the parents had been building up in my mind as some terrifying, intense rite-of-passage. Since we started the trip they had been talking about it, as if it were some monumental, life-threatening event.



It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Once we were out of sight of land you could look in all directions and see a flat horizon. To be obnoxiously poetic, it was like we could see the edge of the world on all sides of us. We were in a circle of blue water that we could see the end of on all sides, and outside of that circle there was nothing. Just sky. Incredible.

In the middle of the gulf we suddenly heard this terrifying, disconcerting BOOM!, like a cannon firing. There was absolutely nothing in sight except miles of blue water in all directions. We heard it again, and realized there was a plane flying faster than the speed of sound and giving off sonic booms near us. Something I had never heard in my life.

We knew that our friends on the sailboat Kalex from our home marina (see previous posts) were crossing the gulf at the same time as us. We knew that even making radio contact with them would be highly unlikely in a gulf that's 615,000 square miles. We figured there was no harm in attempting to radio them. "This is Dragonfly calling Kalex. Come in Kalex." "RACHEL?! IS THAT YOU?!" We were close enough to people we knew to make radio contact in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. We kept looking out to get a visual on their boat, but couldn't see anything. After giving up looking and going back to steering, we see a tiny white triangle on the horizon. In an endless field of blue in all directions, having not seen any other boats since we left Apalach, we see friends that we'd been docked next to for a year. Incredible

Navigating by night was an experience. The stars looked different than they do from land. Closer. I completely understand how sailors could see the figure of a bear or a fish or an archer in a random array of stars. After staring at three stars for my second three-hour watch in the middle of the night to keep us on course, I could see a perfect figure of a twig in them. Hooray delirium! I've never felt as strong as I did only sleeping in four-hour naps for 34 hours and helping to navigate a small sailboat across the gulf.

Made it to Clearwater in about 34 hours and watched as condos rose out of the ocean as we neared land. Such a welcome sight. Pulled our boat into the marina and sleptsleptslept.

Hiatus

Well, the cold brought us temporarily back to Tuscaloosa. It's a mixed blessing. It's great to see folks again, to take a hot bath, to sleep in a big, dry bed. But I can't count the times I've run into people at the grocery store and had the "I thought you were supposed to be on the boat!" reaction. So I've memorized my "well, it's temporarily on hold because we might have gotten hypothermia sitting in an open cockpit for 28 hours while we crossed the gulf."

So I've begun compiling a list of things I need to do while I'm in town and not in school. I feel like this is the last time in many years that I will genuinely be free, so here goes:

Learn to do a handstand.
Complete 10 paintings.
Learn basic wiring.
Cook exotic meals.

I held a handstand for 3 seconds today, have completed two paintings, and I found a good recipe for Chicken Tikka Masala that gives a preparation+cooking time of two and half hours. I'm getting there.

Some Port St. Joe Style Bitchin'

Alright, Port St. Joe was okay for a few days, but now the fact that we have to go to the same two places to escape the boat every day is beginning to wear on us. We can only drink so many cups of coffee and read so many books. It's boat purgatory again here, every one waiting for a weather window to leave but in the meantime just talking about how cold it is. And while 30 degrees is livable, 15 degrees at night, sitting in a open cockpit for hours with a strong wind on you...Not so much.

And now we're conflicted as to what to do when we do get above-freezing weather. All this trip we've been telling ourselves, "we've just got to make it to Tampa. Everything will be warm in Tampa." But that's not the case anymore. Tampa is just as cold as everywhere else. Ugh. Even Key West has apparently been 50 degrees. So maybe we'll come back home and finish this trip in March when we can feel our noses? The headline on the weather channel a few days ago was "Florida's Coldest Winter in Over 25 Years!" Poseidon hates us. Oh, and I got a head cold. So I just want to lay in bed all the time (see right; my room). Word. Oh yeah, and our water tanks aren't working properly and the marina turns off shore water to avoid freezing the pipes. So we have no water a lot of the time. Fabulous.

But! We got a care package form my aunt a few days ago which included pralines. Pralines bring out some competitive, hoarding side in all of us. I can't ask Dad to hand me a praline because I know he'll give me the ones with the least pecans. Because I would do the same thing to him. My aunt and her friend even broke them up into individually labeled bags with each of our names on them to keep them safe. There was a fourth bag labeled "For Emergencies Only!" so we keep hoping some emergency situation will arise that will let us break into those. "My feet are cold! Is that an emergency?" "My head kind of hurts! Is that an emergency?" Pralines are not safe on this boat.

So, we cook and bake things to heat up the boat. We read and do crossword puzzles to pass the time. The point of all of this is, we fully understand the phrase "cabin fever" now. We've got to make a move either east or west sometime soon before we freeze to death in Sunny Florida!

PS: Roll Tide!

Stranded!

So, we're stranded in Port St. Joe. We came here to wait for a weather window to make a crossing in the gulf, but as the marina likes to brag is the case with everyone, we ended up staying for over a week. There are people here from all over. A family from New Zealand who up and left on an adventure, a Canadian couple cruising, a British and Jamaican couple who pronounce my name "Raychale!"


This town is neat. It's small, but that means everything we need is within walking distance. And people here are talkative. I've talked to people about the local hot sauce industry, talked to people about Russian cinema, and talked to cops about a possible incident involving a golf cart in the ocean on New Year's Eve. Easily the best stop yet! People have good stories if you ask them.

Mom's making friends, too.

The pelicans here are really noisy when they hit the water while they're fishing. A fact about pelicans: They turn completely upside down before they hit the water in order to see what they're trying to catch.

And the dolphins are total hooligans here. We'll wake up in the middle of the night to a lot of noisy snorting sounds only to realize there are dolphins right next to our boat in the marina. A different sort of rude neighbors.

The jam for this trip:

That night Rachel set the oven on fire.

So, we sail across Choctawhatchee Bay (near Ft. Walton) and all is going well. We find a nice spot to anchor for the night and I decide to bake muffins, because I'm convinced that even on the sea I can be a domestic goddess. I spend an hour getting the oven up the right temperature (it heats by a single alcohol flame), then half an hour trying to keep the oven at the right temperature while they bake. It was a struggle. And the muffins were amazing.

The oven's temperature nob before

A few minutes later Mom yells "Mike! It's...On fire!" and we all turn around to see the oven burning. Dad whips the oven door open and this foot-tall blaze shoots out. We realize that the alcohol fuel must have spilled and was burning now, so we decide to just let it burn out. So we all sit around in the middle of the bay warming our hands around this towering inferno of flames inside of our boat while we watch episodes of Lost on the laptop. All in all, a good night.

The same nob after

We're in Port St. Joe now getting ready to jump across the Gulf of Mexico to Tarpon Springs within the next few days.

The jump

This entails an overnight sail with no electricity really. No heat. It's been below freezing the past couple of nights. I live in a ski jacket, thermal leggings, a thermal top, a sweatshirt, a t-shirt, wool socks, a scarf, gloves, and a hat at all times. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed for more dolphin encounters. Two played just off of our bow for a few minutes today, almost close enough to be able to touch them. That made everything worth it. Even almost burning the boat down.


Things I have learned so far:

No matter how much you Febreeze and disinfect a boat, it will smell like a boat.

No matter how much you Febreeze and disinfect yourself, you will smell like a sailor.

Any non-fatal catastrophe will eventually be funny.

If the weather calls for a strong north wind, there will be a weak south wind. Or moderate west wind. Or no wind.

Cheese and crackers are good for every meal.

Doodles from the sea:

Photos!

We're back at sea in Gulf Breeze, heading down the coast of Florida after a temporary hang up!





I get sent up the mast to repair a light and fail miserably because heights are scary (click for full size).


















We christen the boat Dragonfly.







We stave off the freezing cold with mini-donuts.










The two boats we traveled with from our marina (Kalex and Virtue & Vice).










Boson comes to visit our boat.

The Engine Dies

I'm writing this post from home. Because I'm back home.

I lived on the boat for a week in the marina, making last minute repairs and preparations then we set sail on December 6! We sailed for four days working our way to Pensacola where we have friends we were going to visit, then as we were anchoring in Pensacola our engine went out. Oof. So now we're stranded for a bit until everything gets worked out. So, a slight hitch, but we'll be back on the water again soon.

As for the days of sailing, they were lovely. We didn't plan well for how long the sail would take the first day to Ingram Bayou so we ended up sailing at night. It became a bit stressful when it was too dark to see channel markers well, so Dad had me below reading a chart (something I had to learn how to do in about 5 minutes by myself at this time), calling out what bearings to take, what number the marker would be and if it would be flashing. The situation all culminated with us coming up on a channel marker without seeing it until it was too late. We saw this giant marker come out of nowhere right off the boat, Dad turned the wheel hard, then we heard POW! and watched our grill on the back of the boat go flying into the water. There was no struggle at all; it looked like a flying saucer going into the channel. Probably knocked a dolphin or two unconscious. We've seen so many dolphins, by the way!

We'd been sailing with two other boats from our marina (Kalex and Virtue & Vice), so learning to use the radio and calling them occasionally was fun. I felt like a real sailor being all "This is Dragonfly to Kalex" on the radio.

After Ingram Bayou we sailed to Big Lagoon; not a far sail, but a freezing one. Have I mentioned the weather has been in the 40s? And damp? With no heat? And, of course, a lot of wind? Wonderful. We just keep reminding ourselves it's warm in Tampa. We've just got to get to Tampa. That's become out mantra. We anchored again with Kalex and Virtue & Vice and ended up dinghying over to a small, uninhabited island with them. It was incredible to look around and see that the only footprints were ours. It was a nice break from bad weather, obliterated grills, and scary night sails. We all needed it.

I cooked macaroni the next morning for breakfast, because I'm on a boat and I cook macaroni for breakfast if I feel like it. Cooking on the boat is like cooking on a chemistry class Bunsen Burner. There's a flame and that's it. Three days into the trip I'm freaking out because it's cold and I'm always damp and uncomfortable, so I think to myself "I'm just going to make muffins. That will make everything ok for me right now." So I spend an hour trying to get the oven up to 375. An hour. I put the muffins in and end up letting the oven get too hot, so I cut it back, then it's too cool.After several minutes of this, I take the muffins out and they look perfect. Then I unwrap them and the bottoms of all of them are charred black. Almost lost it right then. So we had muffin-halves for breakfast.

Waited out nasty weather in Big Lagoon, then left a couple of days later to head to Pensacola. As we pulled anchor and headed out, the fog started to roll in. Hard. We couldn't see anything around us. Once again, the channel markers became terribly elusive and thus, a menace. We learned to use fog signals to let other boats know we were there and under sail. That was good to learn. It was spooky, not being able to see land or other boats, and to hear nothing but fog horns and distant bells from channel markers. Luckily, we had everything entered in the GPS (my project the night before!) so navigating wasn't too terrifying. We made it to English Navy Cove, off of Pensacola and put an anchor down. When we did the engine made an awful noise, then once again, our favorite sound. POW! And then it was dead. It couldn't have happened at a better time, though, being so close to friends in Pensacola. So they came to pick us up and I took my first warm bath in weeks. It was fabulous.

Mom and I ended up coming back home for a few days to pay bills and whatnot (and by whatnot I mean to take showers and sleep in dry beds) while Dad worked on the engine. Because that's a fair trade. It's been strange being home again so soon because everyone I see is always "I thought you were on a boat?" Then I have to explain and I feel all "Just kidding, guys! I'm already back!" BUT, we're going back to the boat within the next few days to continue this weird trip. Hopefully without another hangup like this too soon.

I'll post some photos soon, too!