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.