Dec 16-17: The Eagle Has Landed!

Alana now rests in slip 15 at the Santa Rosa Yacht & Boat Club, Gulf Breeze, FL, her home for the next 4 or 5 months.

I left Panama City late yesterday afternoon, waiting until just before sunset in the hope of arriving in Pensacola at slack water around 10:30 this morning. Despite my best efforts I ended up being early (perhaps Alana smelled the barn) so ended up battling a pretty good ebb current at the harbor entrance.

The first half of the transit was very serene, perfect really, with the winds kicking up after midnight. The wind was on the beam or abaft it for most of the trip, so despite the 25 knots of wind, the sailing really wasn't too unpleasant. The entry to Pensacola Bay was a bit dicey, with large rollers on the starboard quarter, Alana was rolling crazily. I wasn't able to get a picture, but the sand here is so white that it looks like snow. Several times I found myself thinking I was looking at a Michigan shoreline.

Once I arrived at the marina I fueled at the fuel dock, and embarked George (the dockmaster) who offered to ride over to my slip to help with lines. I have almost completed a minimal cleanup, took a shower, and then, as soon as I get a bite to eat, I have to head over to the office to take care of paperwork. After that it will be time for a serious nap!

Alana now lies 1,081 miles (as the crow flies) from Salem, MA where this odyssey began, and sailed a little over 2,600 miles to get here.

Dec 13-15: Crossing the “Elbow” to Panama City

I shall do my best to recall the last 3 days, but I think my fatigued brain may have already erased some of the darker moments.

As the autopilot worked fine all day on the 12th, I elected to angle offshore from Tampa toward Apalachicola, saving many coastal miles up in Florida’s “elbow.” This would have been a wise plan had the treacherous autopilot continued to function, but as soon as I got about 30 mile off, it gave up the ghost. Instead of reading and napping, I was now relegated to the helm around the clock. I steered and steered until I was incapable of focusing on the compass, then finally hove to for a short nap.

After another entire day of steering by hand, I finally threw up my hands and again attempted to get the autopilot squared away. At around 10:00 at night, I stripped down to my skivvies, being(out of disposable coveralls, removed the hydraulic ram and worked on it in Alana’s galley, using a large plastic lid as a tray to catch the escaping fluid. I removed the solenoid, cleaned out the accumulated gunk and cycled it a bunch of times at a 12V source. I next reassembled everything, tested it with excellent results and again set sail. The autopilot did its duty for maybe twenty minutes before again letting me down. I was so angry and discouraged that I just went to sleep. I just didn’t have the energy to press on at that point. I think that the ram just needs to be completely disassembled and cleaned, but that is more of a project than I cared to undertake on a rocking and rolling boat.

After about 3 hours of sleep I awoke and pressed on, motor-sailing through fog and light winds. I had originally planned to anchor in Apalachicola Bay on Monday morning, but my slow progress meant that I would have had to transit the treacherous looking Government Cut at night, something I was not eager to do, so I altered course a little to port and steered instead for Panama City. Coast Guard Sector St. Petersburg was good enough to relay a message to my dad, so those that had been expecting a cellular phone call were not unduly worried when I was unable to call, and I settled back for another long night at the wheel.

As luck would have it, Panama City was completely fogged in when I arrived. Based on the amount of radio traffic I could hear on the radio, I chose not to enter port in the fog. Instead, I dropped the hook just west of the west jetty and settled down for a nap. I awoke from my nap to find the fog entirely gone, so quickly weighed anchor and moved inside to St. Andrew Bay. That is where I now find myself preparing dinner and looking forward to the first good night’s sleep in 4 days. I plan to sail tomorrow before sunset so as to finally arrive in Pensacola around 9:00 Thursday morning.

Dec 12: North From Sanibel Island

This has proven to be another great sailing day. Yesterday’s too-strong winds have moderated and are now pushing Alana northward at 6-7 knots. I am tentatively steering for Tarpon Springs, planning to arrive at first light, but if the forecast calls for it, I may fall off toward Apalachicola late tonight or in the morning and continue making hay.

I can see the end now. Barring unforeseen difficulties, which alas are always a possibility, I can be in Pensacola buy the end of next week. I’m looking forward to a few days with Jessica before driving up to Ohio for Christmas with my family. It will be the first in a long time; there were only a couple of occasions that I made it home for Christmas during my 24 years in the Coast Guard. Jessica’s parents had generously offered to pick me up at Crystal River for a little relaxation at their Inverness home, but given the forecast, it makes more sense to angle off to the northwest rather than spend too much time working my way north into Florida’s “elbow.”

I spent much of today reading and “fishing.” I caught yet another Bonito, but again, nothing for the pot. The fine weather and cooperative autopilot allowed me to finally finish The Other Nuremberg by Arnold C. Brackman, an interesting recounting of the trial of Japanese war criminals and to start on Big Trouble by J. Anthony Lukas, the story of an Idaho murder trial around the beginning of the 20th century.

Yesterday I forgot to mention the tragic loss of my French Press. It tipped over in exactly the wrong manner, breaking when the tempered glass struck the exposed metal hinge on the refrigerator door. Damn the luck; I shall have no coffee for the rest of this trip. I prefer the flavors one gets with the press, but an all-metal percolator is probably better suited to life aboard a boat.

Dec 10-11: Into the Gulf

Dec 9:

After a quick grocery run to Publix for some greens, cold cuts and bagels, I weighed anchor at around 9:00 this morning and motored north into the Gulf of Mexico via Northwest Channel. Alana is steering for Marco Island where I’m hoping to pick up some steady northeasterly winds late tonight or tomorrow. There is no wind at the moment, but after tonight things look promising. Were I not a little behind schedule I would probably have waited for the easterlies in Key West, saving gas (and noise), but as it is going to be nip and tuck getting to Pensacola in time to drive up to Ohio for Christmas, I am forging on.

There were dozens of “boats” in Key West that appeared not to have moved in years, and likely were incapable of ever again sailing or motoring if they had to. One has to imaging that it is those very bums that inspired the state of Florida to try cracking down on cruisers with all sorts of anchoring regulations. I’d bet any amount of money that those boats neither go out three miles to pump sewage or make use of the city’s pump-out facilities. I guess they are beneficiaries of Key West’s live-and-let-live approach to most matters.

Dec 10:

The winds arrived with a bang at around 10:00 last night. Alana was motoring along on autopilot as I drifted in and out of consciousness in the cockpit, when she suddenly healed (I had the main sail up for stability) before the 16-knot winds. I unfurled the genoa and was soon swishing along with the lee rail buried. This lasted a few minutes before I had to reef the sails in order to continue safely north in the gusty winds which built to around 24 knots.

Last night was another sleep-free night, the strong winds and numerous fishing vessels requiring my full attention. The moon didn’t come up until the wee hours, so for the most part, it was a dark and stormy night.

Upon anchoring in the lee of Sanibel Island, I discovered that a couple of hatches had not been dogged down as tight as they should have been. I had some salty mess to clean up before enjoying a nice hot shower and a nap.

I plan to remain anchored until morning by which time the boisterous winds should have mellowed, and then make progress toward Pensacola for 24-48 hours.

Dec 9: Grassy Key to Key West

After a nearly sleepless night (anchor dragging etc.) I weighed anchor at 5:00 this morning and enjoyed a swift, 6+ knot sail to Key West, arriving around 1:30. I anchored northwest of Wisteria Island in about 17 feet of water and set about taking care of some logistics.

I made a water and fuel run, then another to do laundry. I had thought it might me nice to go to the grocery store as well, but ran out of time. I instead ate a greasy burger and will go for groceries in the morning.

There is actually a fair amount of material out there from which I could probably have crafted a pretty interesting account, but as I am dead tired, and still have plenty of work to go, I'm going to settle for this matter-of-fact recounting of my day.

I still need to do some weather research, but I would anticipate sailing tomorrow some time. There is talk of northerlies, so it may make sense to wait a day, but that all remains to be investigated.

Dec 8: Turtle Harbor to Grassy Key

What a great sailing day! Everything worked and the winds were exactly right. Tomorrow’s weather is forecast to be even more perfect, if that is possible, and I anticipate arriving in Key West late tomorrow afternoon.

I had planned to stop off Marathon, but came up a bit short. I would not have arrived at Marathon until around sunset, but as I had a overwhelming urge to swim in the warm, clear water, I stopped off of Grassy Key. I’ll just leave a little earlier in the morning to make up the difference.

Today’s sail down Hawk Channel could not have been simpler. Alana enjoyed a beam reach throughout, with winds hovering between 11 and 14 knots. I had all three sails trimmed at sunrise, and made no real changes before dropping the sails at this evening’s anchorage. Our speed varied within the rather narrow range of 5-6 knots, perfect. That is how it should be every day.

Flipper showed up to escort me to the anchorage, but was nowhere to be found once I jumped overboard. Anyone that had heard the stories of tourists being ravaged by randy dolphins will understand that this was probably a good thing. They are not always the happy-go-lucky, smiling creatures they are portrayed to be.

Dinner this evening will consist of a lentil, corn, rice and onion medley, something I hope will be both nutritious and tasty.

Dec 7: Miami to Turtle Harbor

Today was perhaps the best day of this odyssey so far. All of Alana’s systems are working (knock on wood) and I have finally started closing Pensacola. I’m working my way down the Keys and for the first time feel like I’m actually “cruising.” I know I’ll be anchoring every night, I’m far, far from Miami and its attendant complications, and it seems like I am on schedule to get to Pensacola well before Christmas.

I left Key Biscayne at first light, motoring north to Miami Beach to fuel and water. That accomplished, I headed south following Hawk Channel which lies between the reef and the Keys. I’ll not mention the recalcitrant autopilot for fear of ruining my mojo, but you can take the non-suicidal tone of this post any way you like.

The winds were in my face again, forcing me to motor, but the next few days look much more promising. It looks like I’ll be able to sail the rest of the way to Key West, saving both money and my pride.

Alana is anchored in Turtle Harbor, about 3 miles east of Key Largo. Alana is riding a Fortress anchor, normally my stern anchor. The bottom in this area consists of a layer of silt on top of dead corral, and a Danforth-type anchor is apparently the key to success. I am eager so avoid another unpleasant anchor-dragging situation, so swapped out the Fortress and the CQR this morning.

I can’t help but think of Conor Sullivan, perhaps the world’s most dedicated fisherman. There are large fish all over the place around here. I don’t know what they are, but they are roiling the surface of the water in every direction. I’m sure he’d be reeling them in by the score.

It feels really good to have escaped Miami. As you can tell by her new piercing The Head fell in with some Key Biscayne toughs while I was messing with the autopilot. She has been acting hung-over all day, and I have to wonder as to her virtue. I’m hopeful that some quality time together, far from the fast Key Biscayne crowd will get her back on the straight and narrow.

Upon reaching Turtle Harbor about an hour before sunset I hopped overboard and enjoyed a few refreshing laps around the boat. The water and air temperatures were in the mid-80s, so it required no particular courage to jump in. I was tempted to scrub Alana’s grubby waterline, but elected to put that chore off until tomorrow.

The plan is to weigh anchor at first light and make my way down to Indian Key, a little west of Islamorada.

Dec 6: Suddenly, Life Has Meaning

As hard as I try, I can't help but feel encouraged. Even if the autopilot proves unfaithful - I'm sure Mrs. Tiger Woods once imagined him to be faithful and Alana's autopilot is more of a Clinton than a Tiger where fidelity is concerned - I feel revitalised.

The various chores I had planned out for this afternoon, including the selection of various anchorages along Hawk Channel, are done and I have nothing left to do but chillax here in Alana's cockpit, plan dinner and look forward to sailing early in the morning. I am virtually certain that in the end I'll be crushingly disappointed, but for now I am trying to relax and remain positive.

Rain showers are moving through every few minutes, however, they don't last and I am for the most part able to enjoy some warmth in the cockpit.

Dec 6: 47th Time’s a Charm?

It is still too early to celebrate, but it appears the stinking autopilot may be fixed. I just got back from a short trip around Biscayne Bay and it performed flawlessly, so I am at least hopeful; hopeful enough that my spirits have risen to the point that I can update this blog.

The last 48 hours were eventful and difficult. I spent Friday night anchored off Port Everglades, rocking and rolling (as I knew I would), but really were not a lot of options. This meant almost no sleep. Saturday, I motored down to Miami, the wind again being right in my face. I was planning to fuel and water in Miami Beach , but arrived concurrent with a pretty good rain storm. I skipped the fuel and continued down into Biscayne Bay, dropping the hook west of Key Biscayne.

I spent the afternoon dismantling and cleaning the autopilot’s hydraulic ram, reassembling it with a distinct feeling of hope (but not ,“change”). Of course, as we have all come to expect, my “fix” produced temporary satisfaction followed by crushing disappointment. It has gotten to the point that I fully expect to fail, not a good state of mind. I resolved not to give up, but was very discouraged by the time I crawled into bed.

Everything was going fine until about 10:00 p.m. when the winds kicked up significantly, as they had been predicted to do. The GPS alerted me to the fact that the CQR anchor was dragging, so I hopped up on deck to save the day. Being a prudent mariner, I immediately started the engine in case it might be needed and headed up to the bow to veer a little more chain. I failed to notice that the wind and current were opposed; causing the dingy which was tethered to Alana’s stern with about 30 feet of polypropylene line to lie up against Alana’s starboard side. While I was messing with the anchor, the poly somehow was drawn down into Alana’s slowly revolving propeller (there is enough drag in the clutch that the shaft rolls even in neutral) and wrapping itself a couple dozen times around the shaft. When it became apparent that veering chain would not do the trick, I recovered the anchor and headed aft to reposition the boat to windward; this is when I noticed that the propeller was fouled. I was drifting without power toward both shoals and a mega yacht which was also attempting to reset their anchor with only one option. I dropped the Bruce anchor, the one I should have used in the first place, and it thankfully held in the silt/grass bottom. I then focused my attention on the jackass maneuvering his 150-yacht under Alana’s stern, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was having difficulties. I was not yet certain that the Bruce would hold, and this guy was dropping his anchor maybe 200 feet under my stern. I called repeatedly on the radio, flashed a light in his direction and howled profanities ant the top of my lungs, all to no effect. Luckily my anchor continued to hold and Captain Nemo gave up on anchoring, so it worked out. I spent a restless night checking frequently on Alana’s position, again, getting little sleep.

This morning I donned my flippers and mask for an early morning swim. I managed to clear the propeller, but had to cut the line. It was damaged anyway, so cutting it was no tragedy. I just need to rig up a suitable replacement. I don’t know if I bother with poly line again. It supposedly floats (ha!), but has no spring to it, making it less-than-ideal as towline.

Next, I again took up the matter of the autopilot. I was not eager to do so, but the thought of hand-steering through the Keys (where hazards are very close at hand) and on to Pensacola was intolerable. I focused my attention on the solenoid valve which is designed to route the hydraulic fluid through the ram/pump appropriately, depending on whether the system is in “auto” or “standby.” I thought I had found the problem when I “proved” the solenoid was bad. I was almost ready to order a new solenoid, but not being an electrical expert, I called my dad, affectionately known as The Nutty Professor, to run my conclusions past him. He immediately pointed out a flaw in my procedure and suggested an alternative. I hooked the solenoid up to a 12V source and repeatedly cycled it, demonstrating that it was working fine. I don’t know if all this cycling of the solenoid perhaps dislodged some contaminant that was causing it to stick, but the system has been working correctly ever since. I feel a sense of hope, (still no “change”), but am not allowing myself to celebrate yet. The test sail around the bay is a good indication, but I have been let down too often in the past. It will take a 24-hr test to convince me it is fixed.

The channel between here and Hawk Channel, the passable route between the Keys and the offshore reef, is a little sketchy, so I think I’ll head back north in the morning, fuel in Miami Beach, then head out to sea via Government Cut. Keep your fingers crossed that Iron Mike does not let me down again. In the mean time, I am going to enjoy a well earned nap.

I don't really have an appropriate picture to accompany this post, so have included a picture of Jessica's nephew, perhaps the world's cutest baby.

Dec 5: Port Everglades to Key Biscayne

There is not a lot to report today. Everyone is sick of hearing of my failed attempts to fix the autopilot, so I'll not bore you with another chronicle of failure.

I'm a bit too discouraged to write. I'll get everyone up to speed tomorrow. Just know I'm safely anchored west of Key Biscayne and that I'll likely not start my trip down the Keys until Monday.

Dec 4: Bumpy Night Ahead

Alana is anchored just outside the entrance to Port Everglades. I’m about 20 miles short of my original destination, Miami, but have made what I think is a wise decision to stop here for the night rather than press ahead toward what would have been a pretty sketchy Miami anchorage. Alana will be thrashing about on her anchor all night, but at least I will not have to be concerned with grounding.

Rush failed to invite me in for scones and coffee this morning, so I shook my fist in his general direction and headed south. His house, while enormous, was far from the gaudiest I saw today. It is hard to believe that there are as many apparently filthy rich folks in this country as there are. I saw sprawling mansions the size of Spring Valley Academy (where I sometimes went to high school). Rush’s place supposedly cost $44 million and appears to have more than enough space for a single man. I’d be proud to call either of the guest houses home, but would choose the one with its own pool.

The winds, when they did eventually pipe up were from exactly the wrong direction, so I ended up motoring most of the day. The western wall of the Gulf Stream in this part of the coast is supposedly 4-5 miles off the coast, but I was observing a northerly set as soon as I got more than half a mile or so off the beach. This made it impractical to tack my way into the wind, so I swallowed my pride and motored.

I’m not finding Florida to be particularly cruiser-friendly. If you are a wealthy tool with with an 80-foot sport fisher or a 150-foot mega yacht, this is your spot, but if you are looking for a place to conveniently anchor and obtain fuel/goods via dingy, forget it. There are zillions of marinas, most with awkward, piling-type slips that are rather tricky for a single-hander, but very, very few anchorages. South of here once you get into the Keys, there are anchorages, but they are tucked in between myriad sanctuaries, closed areas, and otherwise restricted. Anchoring laws in the state are apparently in a state of flux with local municipalities seeking to make life difficult for “migrants” and “live-aboards,” and the state government, led by the governor, attempting to rein in the zealots. I know there are a lot of bums living on boats; there are dozens of boats in Key West that have not moved in years and are obviously disposing of their sewage improperly, but I rather resent being lumped in with those tramps.

Once I leave here tomorrow, the plan is to head down to Miami Beach to get a little fuel, then head south to an anchorage off Key Biscayne for the night. Sunday I’ll actually start my trip down the Keys toward Key West and the Gulf.

It smells like the soup is almost ready, so I’ll sign off.

Dec 3: Gold Coast

Leaving the anchorage this morning I passed a sailboat (pictured above) which reminded me that I am not the only one with problems, and that in fact, my problems are relatively minor.

Today was a good sailing day, not because the autopilot worked flawlessly; it didn’t, but because the winds were relatively steady, from the right direction, and it was warm. Even the occasional showers were pleasantly warm. I took the opportunity for a little nude sailing, being careful to avoid anything approaching a sunburn, and made it as far as Palm Beach. Alana is anchored about 400 yards off Rush Limbaugh’s rather nice house. It’s not the best anchorage, there being a significant southerly swell, but it will be worth it if he invites me in for coffee and bagels tomorrow morning. I’ll introduce him to Marmite and he can fill me in on The Bamster’s latest efforts to destroy America.

As I alluded to above, the autopilot still is not right. It works most of the time, but still has the annoying habit of tripping off the line as soon as one starts to relax, confident that it is finally fixed. All I can guess is that there may be air trapped in the hydraulics. I’m cycling the rudder back and forth here at anchor in the hope of working any bubbles through the system, but so far, little seems to have changed. At least there are plenty of anchorages between here and Key West, so I don’t have to worry about trying to sail through the nights; I’ll just sail by day and anchor by night until I get to Pensacola. It will be a hassle, there’s no denying that, but it is certainly doable.

The plan was to enjoy a tasty salad upon dropping the hook, but as today’s trip took longer than expected (they all do), I have opted for some warmed up leftover fried chicken. I’ll eat my greens tomorrow.

Dec 2: Fort Pierce

Last night’s weather turned out a lot lousier than the forecast predicted. The winds were in the low twenties, gusting to 30 and the seas were sloppy. I was dead tired when Alana eventually reached Fort Pierce and it was probably as much luck as skill that allowed me to reach the anchorage at 5:45 this morning without grounding. The anchorage is southeast of Causeway Island and the plan is to spend Wednesday night here until some adverse weather blows through, and then sail at 10:00 Thursday at high tide.

After a good hour or two of sleep, I headed out in the dingy to locate some hydraulic fluid for the steering ram. It took a while, but I eventually located a quart, marked at $23, $4 below the actual price, so I saved a few bucks there. The fluid level in the hydraulic ram was indeed low. After topping it off, I have had the system steering a course, using the tidal current over the rudder. It has been doing fine, with none of the “rudder response failure” alarms that plagued me yesterday. I’m not ready to declare victory yet, I’ve been burned by premature “Mission Accomplished” announcements a few times already, but I am optimistic. Why checking the fluid level in the ram is not included in the troubleshooting guide I don’t know, but I’m feeling a little stupid for not having checked it out earlier.

Dec 1: Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank……. (sort of)

Alana left Cape Marina in Port Canaveral this morning and is sliding slowly southward at about 3 knots, paralleling the Florida coast at a distance of about 5 nautical miles.

I spent most of Saturday and Sunday installing a complete new autopilot system (everything but the hydraulic pump and ram). I discovered that the new control head is smaller than the old one, so I was forced to cut a new opening in the panel at the navigation station, leaving the old unit in place.

I wish I could say that the autopilot was 100% right, but it is not. It is a whole lot better than the old one, but I am still experiencing very intermittent rudder response failures. I know the system is wired correctly and that all connections are clean and tight, so I am now wondering if perhaps the hydraulic fluid for the ram is just low. I don’t have any fluid aboard, so I’ll not open the reservoir for fear of spilling, but at the first opportunity I plan to slip ashore and get some fluid. I climbed down in the engine room today and observed that the ram was not actually moving every time I heard the pump kick on, so I think that my hypothesis may well be correct. Occasional steering alarms are most certainly a nuisance, but I nevertheless feel a great sense of freedom. I can now leave the helm long enough to raise/lower sails, prepare a meal or catch a quick nap. I’ll watch it through the night and maybe slide into Fort Pierce or another inlet tomorrow for fluid. Anchoring tomorrow night would also keep me out of the southerly winds forecast for Wednesday night.

I just wasted 10 minutes trying to get a decent picture of a pod of dolphins that were swimming circles around Alana. They never surface where I had the camera pointed, so they whole thing was an exercise in futility. I’ve seen a number of large game fish (Wahoo?) jumping out of the water. I’d put a lure in, but the only thing I’m really interested in catching is a Mahi Mahi, and I really don’t feel like cleaning up the mess which any fish that size would make of Alana. Once the sun goes down in about a half hour, I’ll get busy on dinner. It will be some sort of wild mushroom stuffed pasta shells with Alfredo sauce. I see a nearly-full moon rising in the east, so hopefully I can look forward to a moonlit evening of smooth sailing.

Nov 30: Back Aboard

After a great weekend with Jessica and her family, I got back to Alana yesterday and immediately got busy installing her new autopilot. Naturally, the job proved a little larger than I anticipated, but all indications are that the project was a success. The weekend spent in Inverness was great, but of course it was accompanied with the usual, always-unhappy goodbyes. At least I know I'll see Jess again in a few weeks, and I can look forward to spending Christmas with my family in Ohio.

After some first-light laundering of my dirty clothes, I'll be heading out tomorrow. The tide will be ebbing all morning, so there is no particular rush, but I'd like to get out of here by 9:00 at the latest. I don't have a particular destination in mind, but with Wednesday forecast to be a poor sailing day, I'd like to make some southing while I can. I have a rough, very flexible goal of reaching Key West in about a week.

Nov 24: Canaveral

Holy cow, I'm as tired as I have ever been. As stated earlier, Alana's autopilot crapped out once and for all as soon as I left Jacksonville. This meant 33 straight hours of hand steering, something I am not eager to try again. The weather was fair, with light winds, so my hat is off to anyone that has steered this long in foul weather. I fell asleep at the helm a few times, either banging my head on the wheel, or feeling it snap back on my slender neck.....what a terrible feeling that is; I think it might be the last sensation Saddam Hussein experienced!

I had reserved a slip at Cape Marina and was struck by its affordability. Once I checked it out today, I understood the pricing. It was bordered on one side by a million-dollar sport fisherman and on the other by what appeared to be surplus WWII tank obstacles. I managed to secure a floating slip for roughly twice the price, but when one factors in all the fiberglass repairs, I think it was a sound decision.

The above sign captures the spirit of Port Canaveral pretty well. It's good to be here; good to be in a place that offers tasty burgers, but I have no plans to move here. I have a short list of things to take care of tomorrow, then it is off to Inverness to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with Jessica and her family. I'll be back Sunday evening, and will do my best to get the new autopilot installed Monday

Nov 23: South to Port Canaveral

The alarm went off at 3:00 this morning, letting me know it was time to fire up the generator to warm some water for a shower. It’s a good feeling to step up to the control panel, confident the generator will start immediately and continue running until told otherwise. The Mayport area was pretty foggy, with about ¼-mile visibility, but I weighed anchor anyway. I was pretty sure that there would not be many recreational idiots running around at that hour and the commercial guys were doing a good job of informing every one of their activities via security calls on channel 13. I waited for an inbound car carrier to clear, then motored out through the jetties.

The troublesome autopilot is performing as poorly as it ever has, refusing to do its duty about 90% of the time. It was previously unreliable, but more often than not, seemed inclined to work more than half the time. Anyway, I have had enough. I opened the remote the other day (it is much more than a mere remote and appears to contain about ½ the system’s “brains”) and found it to have a great deal of gunk and corrosion on its circuit board, microchips, etc. I cleaned it up as best I could with contact cleaner achieving nothing other than the complete disabling of the LCD display. It sill worked, I just couldn’t read the display. Yesterday, I spent a good deal of time trying to locate a replacement without any luck. Simrad no longer manufactures my particular system and not even the over-stock and surplus stores seemed to have any in stock. Rather than mess around any longer with trying to make an obsolete system work, I decided to just bite the bullet and order a new one. Thankfully my trackline takes me close enough to shore to maintain a good cellular connection, so I was able to go online and figure out what I wanted, and then call Defender to order the system. Sunday, the very helpful lady who helped me out, went way out of her way to get me what I needed. The kit I wanted was backordered, but she made a number of calls to other dealers, struck a few deals on the side, and was able to piece together all the components for me. She has promised to monitor the receiving and shipping of my order and assures me that my stuff will arrive in Port Canaveral by Friday. The world needs more people like Sunday, though they don’t necessarily need to be named Sunday.

It looks like I’ll be hand steering the remaining 120 or so miles to Port Canaveral. There is virtually no wind at the moment, so I am motoring until some builds. Alana needs to average 4.8 knots if I am to get to the marina by the slack water predicted for noon tomorrow, so I can’t afford to sit around and wait on the wind.

Nov 22: Mayport, FL

Alana anchored in the St. Johns River, just north of the Bar Cut Range, at about 2:45 this morning. I had not originally planned to get here so early, but favorable winds allowed Alana and me to make pretty good time down the Georgia coast. It took a while for the anchor to grab the hard bottom, and I was starting to despair, but we have since been through both flood and ebb tides without dragging, so I am beginning to relax.

Today is forecast to be one filled with rain and light winds, a good day to chillax in port, tidy up, feast and get ready to do it again tomorrow. The next planned stop is Cape Canaveral, where I hope to arrive Tuesday. I’ll then rent a car and spend Thanksgiving with Jessica and her family in Inverness, FL before resuming my journey toward Pensacola.

Alana is 1,600 sailing miles into this adventure. I see that we are 886 nautical miles from Salem, MA where it all began. This 2:1 ratio is skewed by the week spent tooling around in the Chesapeake Bay, but is still a little startling. I think that it is also distorted by the fact that I have for the most part, been sailing regardless of the wind direction. If the circumstances permitted, I could certainly have improved the ration by hanging out in ports until ideal winds present themselves. I have generally taken the approach that some distance toward my destination is better than none, so have wasted a lot of time beating to windward – not Alana’s best point of sail. I think that I probably need to tighten the forestay to get a little sag out of the headsails, but for now, I'm just going to live with it.

Nov 21: Georgia on My Mind

The sun will be coming up in about a half hour and I’m more than ready. I doubt it got much below the mid-50s last night, but it was a damp, penetrating sort of chilliness. I’ve been making good time, Sapelo Island being just 12 miles ahead, so I’m going to continue on down the coast, perhaps as far as Jacksonville, Fl before taking a break. Unfortunately there are not a lot of great anchorages between here and Florida, and the few there are, call for motoring a long way up rivers and sounds, wasting all sorts of time and fuel. Assuming the autopilot continues in its current spirit of cooperation, I think I’ll stay out again tonight, heaving-to for a few hours if I get tired.

Since departing Charleston the winds have been out of the north or northeast, making for easy 5-knot sailing under genoa alone. It is supposed to veer toward the east today and be southerly by Tuesday, those southerlies being a large part of my motivation to press on while I have the wind on my side.

Just before sunset last night I saw a large shark fin pass down Alana’s side. I jumped to get a lure in the water, but I was either too late or he was not sufficiently intrigued by the lure. I’m not sure what I would have been able to do with such a fish, I suppose he would have just stripped all the line off my reel, but it would have been fun while it lasted.

I took about a dozen 15-minute naps last night and am feeling reasonably fresh this morning. I think that breakfast and a couple of more naps in the warm sunshine, which appears to be just around the corner, will set me up for another fine day of sailing. When not napping, I listened to a variety of classic rock right wing talk on Sirius, as well as a couple of literary tales ready by B. J. Harrison. I sipped coffee and hot chocolate, chewed jerky, messed with the sails and stared at the stars; were it 20 degrees warmer, it would have been perfect.

Nov 20: South from Charleston

Alana won her anchor at high tide this morning and rode the ebb current out of Charleston Harbor.

I can’t pass the Charleston jetties without thinking of the case of the S/V Morning Dew which, back in the late 90s, plowed into the north jetty costing all four persons aboard their lives. At a time before everyone had a GPS, I recall that Morning Dew was trying to enter Charleston in the wee hours of the morning in fog, a few days after Christmas. They thought they were between the jetties (largely submerged jetties with rocks peaking above the surface here and there), but in fact were north of the north jetty. A passing boat reported hearing cries for help and notified the Coast Guard, but could not locate the source of the yelling. The CG’s response left much to be desired and after much litigation and congressional investigation, a great many policy changes were put in place. This was one of the truly shameful events in CG history, ranking up there with the Simas Kadurka incident. I shall endeavor to keep Alana off the rocks.

With the autopilot being entirely unreliable, my plans are flexible. I’m hoping to get to Sapelo Island tomorrow, but that may be a bit ambitious if I have to hand-steer all the way. Given the northwesterly winds, I suppose I could always nose up to the beach, drop the hook and take a nap if I get tired. It is less than 300 miles to Port Canaveral, so I don’t need to kill myself to get there by Wednesday. Truth be told, Canaveral is just a goal. I can always leave Alana a bit north of Canaveral while I meet Jessica for Thanksgiving if necessary.

Nov 19: Chillin' in Charleston

Today was a day or resting and catching up. I slept in until 7:00, then took care of a number of little projects, a process I refer to as, "puttering." My putterings included some weather research and the laying of track lines as far a Key West. An assessment of the weather indicated a 10:00 departure tomorrow (Friday) morning, with the goal of reaching Sapelo Sound, GA Saturday afternoon. I'll overnight there, then continue south on Sunday when the winds are again favorable. I just hope this batch of forecasters has done a better job than the one that got me caught in that mess the night before last.

I happened to notice the old Coast Guard Cutter INGHAM being towed past Alana's anchorage this afternoon. Believe it or not I once had orders to that ship before trading them to an "A"-school classmate. This may rate as one of the finest decisions I ever made, as I ended up on the cutter BEAR, which I enjoyed, and my classmate never got underway on INGHAM which was very much nearing the end of its useful life. Here is a link to some information of INGHAM for those few who may be interested: http://semperparatus.com/cutter_ingham.html

Nov 18: Myrtle Beach to Charleston

Yesterday was a day of contrasts. It started out rather well: great winds, caught a large bonito (released), autopilot working more often then not, etc. I coasted down the coast, maintaining a cellular connection so that I could say goodnight to Jessica once she completed studying. I next headed a little off shore, intending to gybe back toward the coast by sunrise, but was overcome some lousy weather. The forecast spoke of a "slight chance of rain, but what I encountered was torrential. It poured down in buckets and the winds whipped up to 25-30 knots. It was a pitch black night with overcast skies and no moon, so there really wasn't much warning of the pending change. Naturally my old enemy, the autopilot, chose this moment to crap out for the rest of the day, so I found myself extremely busy steering, reefing, heaving to, etc. After getting my butt kicked for the 6 hours preceding sunrise, and hearing a not-so-great forecast for Thursday, I opted to head to Charleston. Of course I arrived at the peak of the ebb tide, so the always-long transit seemed to take forever.

After hours of chilly rain, the sun emerged as I entered Charleston Harbor. I dropped the hook, stripped off my soaking wet clothing and jumped into the shower. I wolfed down a bowl of beans, hung up my wet items to dry and am now updating the blog. I can't wait to get some sleep, something I'm going to do right now. I'll make a decision about tomorrow some time later this evening after checking out the forecasts.

Nov 17: Southport, NC to Myrtle Beach, SC

After taking some time to recheck those connections I could get in the autopilot wiring, I left Bald Head Island around 10:00 this morning. The autopilot worked flawlessly for about the first hour and I was just starting to think that perhaps it wasn’t the biggest piece of crap on earth when, true to form, it gave up again. It is very frustrating, but for now I’ll have to work around it. It goes for long periods without a glitch, then despite there being no appreciable change in the environments, turns into a recalcitrant hunk of junk. On the bright side, the sun is out and the winds are favorable, so there are things to appreciated, and oh, I DON’T HAVE TO GO TO WORK TODAY! My “work” will consist of hand steering as necessary.

I incorporated Myrtle Beach into the title of this entry not because I plan to stop there, but because I am guessing that I may be able to access the internet off that locale later this evening as I sail past. I’m planning to take full advantage of the next few days’ winds to make serious progress. Should weather of a casualty of some sort force me into port, so be it, but I’m planning to stay out, sail as much as possible, and heave to every once in a while to rest.

I’m starting to see shrimp boats, confirming that the sun on my back has already suggested – I’m getting closer to Florida and further from New England….good riddance!

Nov 15/16: Morehead City to Bald Head Island

I left Morehead City this morning, a couple hours later than expected. It took forever for the current to switch and the fog to lift, but once they eventually did, I wasted no time getting back out to sea. There was a healthy 10-knot breeze this morning, but it has since dropped to 5 or less. Damn it, I should have just dealt with some sloppy seas yesterday. At least I’d have some good wind now.

The autopilot, I’m sorry to report, is still acting up. It does OK for a while, but then goes through periods of rebellion. So far I’ve resisted the strong temptation to smash it to pieces with a winch handle, but I’m not sure how long I can maintain my current level of restraint. The autopilot really is a key piece of equipment, particularly when sailing alone. It probably isn’t absolutely essential, but it’s very close. I shall have to make a concerted effort to whip it into shape once I get to Bald Head Island tomorrow.

The need to stay close to the wheel has curtailed my culinary plans. There has not been sufficient time to assemble fancy sandwiches, so I enjoyed a box of the tasty soup Mom sent down with Dad for lunch and will be having leftover chicken and rice for dinner.

Monday. dawned with an escort of porpoises (dolphins?) shepherding Alana safely across Frying pan Shoals, the extensive area of shoals that extends south of Cape Fear, adding about 30 miles to an approach from the east. I drifted off the cape, awaiting slack water, then headed up the river at around 1:00 p.m., finding that the recent rains were providing plenty of flow, regardless of the state of tide. To get into Bald Island Marina, Alana had to make a 90 degree starboard turn across the current and enter a narrow cut leading to the basin. After coordinating with a ferry and a dredge, we went for it, and using 90% of available power and about a 40% crab angle, we made it. This was not a maneuver for the faint of heart, and could easily have gone wrong. Thank goodness it didn't.

Bald Island is a golf cart community. Thing are starting to slow for the winter, so I was able to get a reasonably priced slip. I got 3 loads of laundry done (the primary reason for the visit), but found no real grocery store. I got the essentials taken care of: laundry, fuel and water, so will just "rough it" food-wise for the next few days. The pan is to depart late tomorrow morning after what I hope will be successful autopilot repairs, then head down the coast as far as I can go over the next few days of favorable weather. I'll make it further if the autopilot get fixed, but barring that, I'll just look for opportunities to rest as they come along.

Finally, Hope of Better Weather

This morning brought a real improvement in the weather. The gales have diminished to a good breeze and the clouds have thinned to the point one can at least guess what time of day it might be by looking at the sky. As you can see by the mildew on The Head's hat, it has been a sodden week holed up aboard Alana. I now have towels, cloths, rags and clothing drying on the lifelines, giving the normally squared away Alana somewhat of a Haitian freight look.

I could certainly have left today, but have opted to let the seas settle a little while I make leisurely preparations to leave around high tide tomorrow morning (around 6:30). I've got the dingy ready to tow, tracklines laid, the port anchor is secured for sea, the oil has been changed in the generator; about the only significant thing left to do today is the 50-hour valve adjustment on the generator necessitated by the recent replacement of most of its major organs. Once that is completed I'll set about relaxing the rest of the day.

Delays, Delays

The remnants of Ida continue to haunt me. It looks like I’ll need to wait until Sunday morning before I can slide out of here, so I am resigned to life in this 37-foot bubble for at least a couple more days. I’m doing what I can to be ready to leave, but until the wind and rain abate at least a little, there is not a lot to be done. Eating rice and beans, listening to Rush and checking engine and generator oil levels are a few of the options available to me.

I have reserved a slip at Bald Head Island Marina, just inside the mouth of the Cape Fear River. I plan on staying just one night, enough time to buy some stores and do a couple loads of laundry. It would be great if I could take care of those items here, while wasting away in Morehead City, but the river is just too rough to allow me to take the dingy to and fro. Once leaving Bald Head Island I will need to pick up the pace significantly if I plan to get to Pensacola before the onset of next year’s hurricane season.

The Boy in the Bubble

The wind and rain arrived during the night, necessitating a couple of forays out into the deluge to check on this and that. Alana rode her CQR anchor with its all-chain rode and I kept the Bruce at the short stay just in case. I figured there was less chance of a tangle that way, and the anchorage is sufficiently large that I was confident I could set the Bruce in plenty of time if the CQR dragged (it did not). I never noticed sustained winds over 31 knots, so other than the discomfort of getting wet on deck and damp below deck, things were not too bad. After being cooped up for a few days, I'm really looking forward to doing some sailing in nice fresh, warm, sunny air.

The rain stopped at sunrise, allowing me to get some cool, high-velocity air moving through the boat to freshen things up a little. Like yesterday, I expect most of today will be devoted to reading and snacking. I just started a book on the Japanese war crime trials.

We are supposed to get another batch of not-so-great weather tomorrow, nothing that would be unbearable at sea, but I am resisting the temptation to rush south too soon. It still looks like a Saturday departure will be the best plan.

Fresh Water Washdown

The rain arrived this morning, just in time to ensure I’d be soaked while setting out a second anchor. The winds are not predicted to start howling until late this afternoon, but I think the rain is here to stay, at least until the end of the week. I have all the supplies I need, including a couple of good books, so other than the damps that come with a buttoned up boat, things should be fine. Unfortunately, the currents are strong enough to spin Alana around, regardless of the wind direction, so it is not always possible to keep the companionway open.

It looks I have fixed the autopilot. I didn’t find any loose connections, but did discover that a rudder feedback parameter was incorrectly programmed into the system’s “brain.” I know for a fact that I didn’t change it, so for now I’ll attribute it to a glitch. I’ve had it steering a course here, anchored in the current and it has had no difficulties, so for now I’m going to stop worrying about it. The true test will come once this weather passes through and I head south again.

Happily, there is nothing else that needed fixing, so I spent the rest of the day nibbling, reading, watching a couple shows on Hulu, and just generally being lazy. It’s a good thing I’m not inclined toward obesity.

I think tonight may be a long night. Until the anchors have proven themselves in 40 knots of wind (plus current), I’ll probably spend a fair amount of time staring at the plotter. Both plotters are set to alarm if we drag, it’s just hard, and perhaps stupid, to bet everything on hearing an alarm in the middle of a howling gale.

Nov 10: Y'all Goin' Parachutin'?

First thing this morning I weighed anchor and move into the harbor. I managed to get a little sleep last night, but that was only because I had beedn up for three days. Under normal conditions the rolling, and accompanying banging of every locker. would have kept me up all night. I moved inside the harbor, to a spot just off Tombstone Point, west of Morehead City Channel. The currents here are significant, the wakes are a little annoying, but I think it is definitely an improvement. When the weather kicks up over the next few days I'll have to worry about dragging onto a lee shore, but I'm confident I'll be alerted in time to take action. I have two GPS plotters watching over me, and no plans to leave Alana again until the storm passes.

Today, I made a couple runs into town for fuel, water, paper towels and milk. I left the dingy at the public dock, but not wanting to leave an expensive inflatable life jacket unattended, wore the itto the store. The very nice southern belle working the checkout asked me, "Y'all goin' parachutin'?" I guess she thought that the manual release on my life jacket looked like a ripcord.

Once the running about was done, I busied myself cleaning up the boat and adjusting the shroud/stay tensions. Next comes a tasty chicken dinner, postponed from last night due to excessive rolling.

Nov 9: Hatteras to Cape Lookout

Hatteras, for all my worrying, was a non-event. The sun was setting as I motored south through the glass-smooth water, wishing that there was at least sufficient wind to push Alana along. I would normally have waited for the wind to appear, after all the scenery was OK, but with the weather forecast to go to hell Wednesday, I thought it appropriate to motor-sail through the night.

Originally, I was planning to get a slip in Beaufort, but since I’ll likely need to stay until Friday when the weather is expected to break, I instead dropped the hook in Onslow Bay, just east of the channel leading into Beaufort and Morehead City. As I type, Alana is rolling furiously back and forth as though she’s trying to buck off her hatches. There is no wind at the moment so she is just wallowing in the trough. Tomorrow I’ll make a couple of dingy runs into town to pick up some diesel, water and a couple other essentials. Once the shopping is done, I plan to investigate a recurring problem with Alana’s autopilot. It's intermittent, so I’m hoping it is as simple as a loose connection,

I caught a small Bonito today. He/she was immediately paroled as they are too bloody to make good eating. It shouldn’t be too long before I’m far enough south to start catching some Mahi Mahi.

Nov 8: Just North of Hatteras

There is not a whole lot to report today. This morning’s breeze was nice, allowing me to steer pretty much in the direction I wanted to go, but as predicted, conditions have turned light and variable. Barring dramatic changes, it looks like I’ll be doing well to anchor off Beaufort, NC some time tomorrow (Monday) night. The weather is not supposed to turn lousy until Wednesday, so sliding into Beaufort first thing Tuesday morning should be fine.

It actually got warm enough in the sun today to remove my jacket. It will be cool tonight, but soaking up some sunshine was fun while it lasted.

I saw a lot of fish slapping around on the surface, including one very large one (4-5 feet) that leaped clear of the water. I couldn’t identify it, but I have a line out now in the hope of perhaps snagging dinner.

Nov 7-8: South from Cape Charles

I spent some time this morning looking at various forecasts and hoping for an “ideal” weather window for rounding Hatteras. Nothing ideal appeared, but a Nor’easter is predicted for Wednesday, so I decided to just get going. I’m beating south at the moment and anticipating that the winds tonight and tomorrow will be light and variable, meaning a lot of sail changes/adjustments, so sleep is going to be difficult. I’m going to be one tired camper three days from now, but the most challenging part of this trip should be behind me.

As luck would have it, the winds remained pretty steady, dropping from 17-24 kts to 12–15 kts around midnight. I got to reef the sails a few times to keep the lee rail above water, but experienced no real difficulties. The skies were clear and I had the moon to keep me company as I nibbled on various snack foods and a toasted turkey/cheese bagel.

I had an unpleasant surprise this morning (Sunday) around 4:00 when I started my old nemesis, the generator, to charge batteries. The loud exhaust sound and high RPMs signaled some sort of problem, and then the generator shut itself down, a light indicating a high exhaust temperature. I checked the strainers, finding them clean, then removed all the gear stowed forward of the generator compartment. Once I was able to access the offending machine, I restarted it to see if I could get any visual clues as to what the problem was and immediately noticed the toothed belt which drives the water pump, recently tightened by Charles, was not driving the pump. I discovered that most of the teeth were missing from the belt which was very close to breaking. I managed to install a replacement without great difficulty, grateful that I did not have to replace the impeller, and the generator returned to normal.

Sunday morning dawned with a beautiful sunrise and a perfect breeze from the southwest, allowing Alana to steer directly for the next waypoint off Diamond Shoals on what I hope will be one, uninterrupted starboard tack.

Nov 6: Portsmouth to Cape Charles

Dad left before the crack of dawn this morning for his long drive back to Ohio. I spent the morning taking care of some minor chores and hoping that the strong north winds would die down a little. The winds eventually did moderate by about 1:00 in the afternoon, allowing me to depart Tidewater Yacht without mishap. It was sunny by quite chilly on the way out of Chesapeake Bay and became positively chilly once the sun went down.

I dropped the hook in the mouth of the bay, just south of Cape Charles, just before 10:00 this evening. I’ll sit here and await a weather window which will allow me to get around Cape Hatteras, hopefully in the next few days.

Dad will be missed. True, I do now get to listen to whatever music I like, but everything is just a little more complicated by one’s self. I find that more thought must go into every evolution in order to avoid unnecessary running around, and of course tethering oneself to jacklines on the deck can add tangles and tripping hazards.

I'll decide in the morning whether to stay here, head for Hatteras or look for another spot to await the weather I need. I had planned to wait in Rudee Inlet just south of Virginia Beach, but the grounding in Willoughby Channel has frankly got me a little gun shy.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Today was a pretty long day. It began out in the anchorage just south of Hospital Point, a little after midnight, when I was jolted from a deep sleep (one gets tired kedging grounded boats free of the bottom) by the banging and scraping of an object against Alana's hull. Not sure whether it was perhaps a buoy or another boat I woke Dad and leaped on deck to investigate. I found that Alana was still securely anchored in her original location, but that a squall had swung one of her neighbors with an excessively long rode into Alana. All of the dozen or so anchored boats seemed to be pointing in a different direction, each responding to the winds and currents in their own unique manner. Of course, like the grounding, this was my fault. The vessel the bumped us was there first, so it was my responsibility to stay clear of her. Of course I had no way of knowing in the dark how much chain the other boat had out, and I should probably assumed the worst, but I didn't. There was insufficient room to move without encroaching on the channel, so I sat up most of the night in the cockpit to prevent a recurrence.

The good news is that neither boat suffered any damage. Alana's wooden rub rail did its job and Bill, the owner of the other boat barely bothered to come on deck after the incident (this make me think that perhaps it was a routine event for him).

Around 8:00 Dad and I weighed anchor and moored in slip D-49 at Tidewater Yacht. We washed down and organized the boat, then Dad drove me around to run some errands . Upon getting back to the boat I repaired the head faucet which was accidentally wrenched from the counter when Alana took a roll, and Dad completed a repair/upgrade of the doors to the chain locker. We celebrated our respective successes with a tasty spaghetti dinner, then went to Food Lion for groceries.

Dad leaves in the morning, and depending on the weather, I'll start making my way toward Pensacola. I just hope that this recent string of mishaps is about to come to an end.

Doh!

Thank goodness there are no pictures of today’s fiasco. Today, I managed to run Alana aground. I could tell myself that it really wasn’t my fault; we WERE in the middle of a marked channel supposedly dredged to 10 feet, but I didn’t feel good going in and I should have stepped back a few steps to rethink the plan. Here is what happened:

We were intending to anchor in Willoughby Bay, just inside the Hampton tunnel. We turned south between markers 1 and 2 and had a clear view of 3 ahead. These are all fixed aids, so there was little doubt about their position, but an uncharted green can buoy labeled 1A was in what appeared to be the middle of the channel between beacons 1 and 3. This is the point at which I should have retreated, but instead I altered course to starboard so as to leave 1A to port. Almost immediately Alana ground to a halt in the mud, defying my brief attempt to power back into the channel. Dad helped me quickly rig the dingy so that we could get a kedge upwind, and here is where I screwed up again. I chose the starboard CQR with an all-chain rode and quickly discovered that the dingy’s 6hp motor simply lacked the umph to overcome the weight of the chain which kept me from being able to effectively set the CQR. I dropped the CQR where it was and returned to Alana for the Bruce anchor. The Bruce’s rode is primarily 5/8” 3-strand so I had no difficulty carrying it as far up wind as I could before dropping it from the dingy. That accomplished, Dad and I heaved around on the line, maintaining a steady strain in order to draw the boat a little closer to good water every time a swell lifted her from the mud. While this was going on I used the dingy and considerable effort to retrieve the CQR and its chain (we couldn’t risk heaving around with the windlass for fear of breaking out the Bruce). I parked the dingy alongside Alana’s bow and Dad used the windlass to recover the CQR and chain without further incident. We got lucky in that we ran aground right at low tide, so I never really doubted that we would eventually float free, but just to help the process along, we pumped both water tanks overboard. Once Alana floated free I became concerned that we would not be able to retrieve the Bruce in the normal manner without drawing Alana into the shoal water on the opposite side of the channel, so we marked the line with a fender, threw the whole mess overboard and motored across the ship channel and a safe, temporary anchorage. Once safely anchored, I returned to the scene of my humiliation in the dingy and recovered the Bruce and its nylon rode.

Alana suffered only some very minor scratched to her paint where I ground the chain between the dingy and her hull, so in the end there was no real harm done. I just feel stupid at having gotten myself into the situation to begin with. We did alright freeing ourselves; there just should never have been anything to free ourselves from.

Once the whole grounding was behind us we transited down to the anchorage off of Tidewater Yacht Marina where we’ll be tying up tomorrow. Dinner consisted of green bean casserole, a change from the planned spaghetti, but without any potable water aboard, spaghetti was out of the question.

Day 5: Onancock to Mobjack Bay

After a good night’s sleep aboard a rock-steady boat, Dad and I slipped out of Onancock Creek a little before eight o’clock this morning. We found little or no wind once we stood into Chesapeake Bay, so took the opportunity to polish some brightwork around the boat. By no means did we get it all, not even close, but I think that polishing a piece here and there whenever things are slow will eventually get her appearance up. It is nice to have time to worry about cosmetics now that she is mechanically sound.

When the breeze eventually did appear it was from the southwest, not the forecast northwest, preventing us from steering straight for Mobjack Bay. Nevertheless, it was a nice sunny day with very pleasant conditions, even if they were not ideal. We nibbled Goldfish and jerky for tea, then enjoyed a tasty salad for lunch, all the while resolving weighty issues of the day. The serene, not slow, serene pace of today’s sail allowed us to take care of a number of stupid little chores which are difficult or impossible under windier conditions. As previously described, we did some polishing, whipped some lines, repositioned some shackles and removed a stain, all minor tasks, but important nevertheless.

As the sun got lower in the sky we bundled up with a few extra layers, anticipating a crisp, cool evening of smooth sailing under a almost-full moon. Homemade French Onion soup was on the menu for dinner and it felt and tasted mighty good with temperatures in the low 40s.

Unfortunately the winds dropped to virtually zip when we were about 5 miles from our anchorage, and since neither of us had the patience to wait for their inevitable return, we motored the rest of the way.