Hold the Flowers

The condolences are appreciated, but premature. Barry lives! Not 10 minutes ago he was lying in state atop Alana's cabintop when, miraculously he sprang back to life, scaring the heck out of a couple of mourners. I'm not a believer in reincarnation, so I can only assume that this morning's shock was merely a stunner not the fatal jolt I had suspected. He's now topside climbing up and down the shrouds, seemingly without a care in the world. I have to admit that I'm happy to have him back; he's a constant trial, but he's MY trial. Welcome home Barry!

Cancel the Shelter

I'm sorry to report that Barry's unhealthy fixation with electricity has finally done him in. His opposable thumbs enabled him to get the breaker panel open this morning. He apparently amused himself licking and probing the 12-volt side, but he either deliberately or accidental strayed into the 110-volt section and now the whole boat smells of burnt monkey fur. RIP Barry.

Shock the Monkey

I took advantage of the early hour and overcast skies to do a little cleaning and polishing on deck this morning. I am finding Savannah to be oppressively hot and humid, something I'll no doubt get used to after a while. While I worked, Barry amused himself by repeatedly thrusting his tongue into an electrical socket. I wouldn't have minded particularly, but he kept tripping the breaker, causing the crucial air conditioner to shut off. I'm thinking seriously about dropping him off at a local shelter.

Fin

1,124 miles after leaving Pensacola, Alana is safely moored at Isle of Hope Marina, Savannah, GA. It is about 16 miles from here to the sea via swamps and ditches with a 10-foot tidal range and some significant currents, so I don't think we'll be doing too many spur-of-the-moment little day trips. It feels good to be here at last. I should be giving Alana a thorough washdown, but given the heat, the humidity and the fact I was up all night, she might have to be content with a quick rinse. Early mornings and late evenings look like they'll be the productive hours around here.

On the Road Again

You know it's going to be a good day when it starts out with a particularly good breakfast. I just enjoyed one of my favorites, an avocado, tomato and Marmite, open-faced sandwich on sourdough toast - mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Once this update is posted I'll start getting ready to weigh anchor around 11 o'clock. I'm eager to get going, but as there will not be much in the way of wind until this afternoon, there's no reason to rush. Once the winds do develop, all forecasts agree that the next 48 hours or so should be perfect. There should be 9-12 knots out of the east and southeast, ideal for my planned north-northeast track to Wassaw Sound.

I'm Alive!

I awoke this morning, so I can only assume that the jhadi cabbie did not behead me in my sleep. I did spend some uneasy moments before falling asleep, staring up at the open hatch above my bunk and waiting for a jambiya-wielding arm to reach down for my throat. Alana is again back in her favorite Jacksonville anchorage waiting for the weather to improve. There is virtually no wind at the moment, making things pretty hot and bug-friendly at the moment. Jacksonville is supposed to see 90 degrees today, but as we're anchored in a 77-degree river, we'll not see 90. It is now looking like Friday afternoon will produce the necessary steady winds. I'm more than ready to get going.

I met a couple of pretty cool dudes yesterday. They were delivering a 61-foot sport fisherman (down, Conor, down!) named Huntress to Hatteras, NC. They approached the marina as I sat in Alana's cockpit eating chicken wings. I assured them that fuel was available, but that nobody would be around unto 8 o'clock tomorrow, then granted them permission to tie up at the fuel dock overnight. I helped with their lines and was rewarded with a large quantity of Havana iced coffee, a product developed by the boat's owner. It packs a serious caffeine wallop, so it will be important to keep Barry out of it. I'd much rather deal with a drunken Barry than a hopped up Barry. They need to average 20 knots between here and Hatteras to meet their deadline, and given the sea state, I can only assume that Huntress is in for a beating. It must be cool to be able to just beat the crap out of a million-dollar boat.

Fort George

Alana is now moored at the Morningstar Fort George Marina on the west bank of the St. Johns river. I came in this morning to top off water and stock up on groceries so that I can continue waiting out in the anchorage in relative comfort. It is now looking like Saturday may be the day I can finally continue on toward Savannah.

I was originally supposed to be mooring in Mayport, on the other side of the river, but it turned out that there was a butthead in Alana's assigned spot. He was to have moved forward to make room, but refused to do so, saying that it would be "impossible" to get out if Alana were astern of his boat. The other Morningstar facility, located almost directly across the river, had plenty of space so I quickly agreed to tie up there instead. This was a mistake. The marina is brand new, the staff and manager couldn't be friendlier or more accommodating, but there is nothing nearby. It was a $60 cab ride to Publix. This side of the river is little more than swamp.

Today's real adventure was the cab ride. I called Jacksonville Yellow Cab and arranged for a pickup. The dispatcher assured me that someone would be here to pick me up within 20 minutes. This sounded reasonable, considering the remoteness of the location, and I continued puttering about the boat. A few minutes later I received a call from what sounded like a middle-eastern gentleman. He sounded, I assume, like most of the far off voices intercepted by the NSA planning bombings and other nefarious acts. I assured him that I was indeed the infidel that had called for a ride and he told me, I think, that he would be here in 10 minutes. I stationed myself out by the main drag in order to make myself as easy as possible to spot, and waited. After about 10 minutes I saw a cab. I was about to wave it down when I observed that the driver was an older, blond lady bearing no resemblance whatsoever to Osama bin Laden. She had a pink bunny on her dash saying "Jessus Loves Me" with no mention of Allah, so I felt confident in concluding that this was not my cab. After another 5 or 10 minutes the same cab returned, stopped beside me and the driver, who reminded me more than a little of Agnes Skinner (The Simpsons), asked if I had called for a cab. I told her that I had, but that I was expecting a male driver. She told me that since she was there I should just go with her. I demurred initially, feeling that it was only right to wait for they guy that was supposedly on his way. She told me something to the effect of, "He may be coming or he may not be. All you owe him is a call to cancel. That's how it works in this business." As someone that respects my elders and someone without an insider's knowledge of the cabbie code of ethics, I hopped in her cab and immediately called Osama bin Drivin' to cancel. He was understandably angry and told me, I think, that he had driven a long way to get me and was close. I apologized again and hung up the phone. No sooner had I hung up than we spotted another cab, a minivan, coming toward up in the opposite direction. This second cab, also festooned in Yellow Cab livery, screeched to a stop, honked its horn and did a u-turn to give chase. Agnes of God kept driving, monitored her mirrors and shared her opinions on, "that Arab pri*#." It was looking like we might be able to make a clean getaway when we were trapped by a drawbridge. Sensing danger, Agnes of God called her dispatcher to apprise them of the situation. The dispatcher, who had apparently told Osama that he had no beef as long as the customer cancelled before being picked up, was treated to a play by play of the situation. Agnes described how Osama had leaped from his van and was pounding on our windows, yelling and waving his arms wildly. Why neither Agnes nor I thought to lock the doors I don't know, but the next thing I knew Osama had the rear door open and was attempting to extract me from the cab, screaming, "He's my fare, he's my fare." Agnes unleashed a torrent of profanity, several phrases of which almost certainly constituted hate crimes, and punched the gas. Simultaneously, I wrenched my arm from Osama's clammy grasp and he tumbled out the door and the door slammed shut. Agnes expertly locked the doors and braked hard to avoid rear-ending the car in front of us, never for a moment letting up her play by play with the dispatcher. Realizing that his jihad had failed, Osama slunk back to his cab, vowing vengeance. The bridge opened and we went on our not-so-merry way to Publix. We parked in one of the designated handicapped parking spots (Agnes, who showed no sign of any disability beyond chronic racial insensitivity) had a handy placard which she hung from the mirror, then we both went shopping.

Osama has tried to call me since I returned to Alana. I don't know what he wants, and am not really inclined to chat with him, but if he persists, I may just be forced to. I just hope he doesn't return to the marina and slash my throat as I sleep. At least I can take comfort in the fact that his are not a vengeful people.

And Now We Wait

I checked the forecast as soon as I awoke this morning, hoping that the outlook might have changed since yesterday's gloom and doom predictions. Not much has changed. As you can see from the graphic (may need to click on it) the low south of Bermuda is going to continue pumping air from the northeast. This is forecast to continue for at least 3 or 4 days and will then be followed by a couple days of light and variable puffs. As you can imagine, neither condition is any good if one is trying to sail from Jacksonville to Savannah. This is particularly disappointing because it means I will not get to spend Memorial Day weekend in Mobile with Jessica as we had hoped.

I've been passing the time performing small chores around the boat, such as cleaning the shower drain filter, reading and listening to the radio. I'm husbanding food and water, hoping that I don't have to run of the river to resupply.

Barry baked a batch of cookies today - amazing what a gentle waterboarding can do for a miscreant's outlook. He's a slow learner, so I am not yet ready to declare him "rehabilitated," but the signs are positive. I'll eat just one or two initially and remain alert for signs of cannabis or ex-lax. As Ronald Reagan would have suggested, I'll, "trust but, verify."

So Near, But Yet So Far....

I dropped the hook this morning, just north of the main ship channel in the St. Johns River (the entrance to Jacksonville). I was originally planning to stay overnight, then head north on the final leg of this trip tomorrow, but circumstances have changed. The potential storm south of Bermuda is looking like it will, at the very least, create strong northerlies for the next few days, northerlies that would make the Jacksonville - Savannah run a miserable ordeal. For a while I toyed with the idea of leaving tonight (after a nap) and trying to stay ahead of the storm, but a reassessment of the forecast and a nagging feeling that I should stay in safe harbor, have led me to hunker down instead. This isn't the best anchorage for "hunkering," but I think it will do. Alana is in about 25 feet of water between the main channel to the south and a sandy beach to the north. The currents in the river are rather strong and there is not much protection from the wind, but it is another 11 miles up the river to the next viable anchorage. Any strong winds from the north will tend to push us toward the deep channel, not toward the beach, so with two GPS alarms set, I feel reasonably secure. Everything is laid out in readiness to get underway at a moment's notice if necessary.

I'll not be living in luxury while waiting out the weather. There is no convenient way to get supplies from here, so I'll be making do with what I have. I have: more than 50% water, plenty of beans, plenty of rice, 1/2 a gallon of milk, some bread, 1/2 a box of Goldfish, a sleave of bagels, a generator, a number of onions, canned soup, a stereo, a computer, pumpkin seeds, and dozens of shorts and t-shirts. Of greater concern is Barry. He's got enough issues under normal conditions; I shudder to think what he might get up to should he be stricken with cabin fever!

Off Daytona

The GPS reads 1.5 knots and the seas are glassy; there’s an easterly swell left over from when we did have wind and Alana’s creaking and groaning as she wallows along. Things should pick up this afternoon, hopefully enough to get us to Jacksonville between 2 and 5 o’clock Monday morning when the current should be flooding.

I had a stalker for a while yesterday. A stupid looking seabird, one with a very round, owl-like head, joined up with us. It was either very tame, very stupid, or both, because it would fly slowly along beside the cockpit, just beyond arm’s reach. It was not in any way deterred by yelling, waving or obscene gestures. Even after I resorted to whacking it with a fishing pole it only left briefly, collected its thoughts on the water, then returned to flap along beside us. I’ve never known a seabird to go 20 seconds without moving its bowels, so it was important to me that this one not do so on either myself or Alana. Completely unconcerned with me, the bird landed atop the bimini, not a foot above my head. I could see the dark shape of its duck-like feet through the canvas and I was just waiting for the wet blob of guano to soak into the canvas. I repeatedly struck the canvas from below, but it wasn’t until the third or fourth blow launched it physically into the air that it gave up. No doubt he returned during the night to exact his revenge; I just haven’t discovered it yet.

There was to have been a Delta IV rocket launch last night and I would have been well positioned to see it as we sailed past Cape Canaveral, but for whatever reason it was postponed 24 hours – bummer.

I’ve sailed 956 miles since leaving Pensacola and will have only about 100 to go upon leaving Jacksonville. Those last 100 have the potential to be some of the trickier and more frustrating of the trip. The winds look like they’ll be a bit too northerly for an easy transit and there appear to be any number of ways to run aground while negotiating the swamps surrounding Savannah. I’ll definitely be calling the marina for some local knowledge before leaving the safety of the deep blue sea.

No keepers so far, Conor. Your patented lure has scored some Bonito, but so far the Mahi Mahi have eluded me. I’m guessing it is just too shallow as I have rarely been in more than 100 feet of water, even 16 miles off as I am now.

Barry underwent an enhanced interrogation this afternoon. Under intense questioning he revealed that he was sent here to make my life miserable, a mission he has so far executed flawlessly. I still believe he has some redeeming qualities; they are just deeply buried.

Next Stop, Jacksonville

We weighed anchor this morning around 7:00 and are slowly sliding north toward Cape Canaveral at a not-so-exciting 2.5-3.0 knots. The winds should be picking up this afternoon and blowing 10-15 for the next three days, so help is on the way.

The outgoing ebb current created some very large standing waves between the Fort Pierce jetties as we motored out this morning. Alana completely buried her bow a few times, grinding almost to a stop as she did so. I suppose that irregularities on the bottom were forcing water up into large, unexpected and steep waves. Anyway, we made it out safely and immediately sought calmer waters by clearing north of the inlet.

Once everything was squared away on deck and all three sails set and drawing, I deployed Conor’s patented fishing lure. His “lure” is more of an “array” consisting of a torpedo-like item with stumpy wings that thrashes the surface. The torpedo is followed by three pink plastic squid and then, bringing up the rear, a green and yellow feathered lure containing the hook. Conor has assured me that this rig cannot fail, though I suspect he forgot to factor in my ineptitude when making that claim – I’ll keep you posted.

It looks like I'll be losing my cell signal before Conor's wonder-lure has a chance to work it's magic. I'll save those trophy shots for tomorrow or the next day.

I don't know why, but for some reason I am unable to upload picture right now. Oh well, no great loss, I'll try again another time.

Fort Pierce

I dropped the hook this morning at about 9 o'clock, just south of Causeway Island in Fort Pierce, in just about the exact same spot we occupied back on December 2. This time however, my time has been spent napping and eating, not running around looking for hydraulic fluid for the autopilot.

Yesterday's sail up from Miami was largely uneventful, just good winds and small seas. The wind dropped off a little during the night, meaning that we missed the flood current and had to enter port on the ebb, but other than that everything went smoothly. I did see one of the largest sport fishing boats I have ever seen off of West Palm Beach. I don't know if it is really even"sport" or "fishing" if you approach it that way. Why not just buy Starkist or Chicken of the Sea?

The anchorage here in Fort Pierce is rather unremarkable, but it is one of only a couple readily accessible anchorages between Miami and Jacksonville. All the others involve considerable transits up or down the ICW, making them unattractive to me.

The plan is to shoot straight from here to Jacksonville. We'll ride the ebb out tomorrow morning then work our way north (hopefully with minimal tacking), arriving in Jax Sunday night or Monday morning. There are some light winds in the forecast, so no one should be unduly alarmed if I don't actually get to Jax on Monday.

North From Miami

Alana slipped out of Miamarina first thing this morning. I stopped briefly at Miami Beach Marina on the way out to top off on diesel, and am now sailing easily north past Fort Lauderdale. The weather is close to perfect and predicted to stay that way for at least a couple days. Today's easterlies are supposed to back to the northeast tomorrow, so I'm angling offshore a little so that I don't get pinched against the coast tomorrow. I'll likely be out of cellular range tonight, but if the winds do back as predicted, should be back within range tomorrow some time.

Barry's a bit under the weather today. I returned from my foray to the grocery store to find that he had broken into the liquor locker. We can now add temperance to the list of valuable lessons he's learned during this trip.

I don't yet know what the our next port will be, either Port Canaveral or Jacksonville, I suppose. The sailing is so pleasant at the moment that I'd hate to waste time on an unnecessary port visit.

Relaxing in Miami

Not a whole lot of note happened today. I walked what seemed like 26 miles to the nearest Publix to buy some greens, then spent the rest of the day washing and squaring away the boat. Unfortunately, Captain Brown, one of my Coast Guard heroes, had to cancel his visit, so I'll just have to wait for him to catch up in Savannah.

Tomorrow's winds look light, making it tempting to stay another day, but I'm leaving anyway. I suppose that Fort Pierce or Port Canaveral will be the next stop.

Miami

Alana is enjoying a rare visit to a marina. Normally we anchor out and save money, but every few weeks it doesn't hurt to do it in style. She is at Miamarina (stupid name, but nice enough place) in downtown Miami. She certainly looks more affordable than most of her neighbors, but is also one of the more attractive vessels I can see. After a quick burger, Alana enjoyed a freshwater wash down and some tidying-up.

Last night the wind dropped to nothing, or next to nothing, requiring that we motor-sail the last 60 miles to Miami. Thankfully, it was smooth enough not to require too much engine power, so we just purred along at about 4.5 knots. Due to the proximity of shoals, I never allowed myself to nap for more than 10 minutes at a shot. I found this to be far, far, lest restful than the 22-minute naps I had been taking further off.

Leaving Key West Behind

We slipped out of Key West about 20 minutes before sunrise this morning. There was little other activity in the harbor, Key West fishermen apparently not being adherants of the, "early bird get's the worm" philosophy.

The winds are blowing at 15 to 18 knots out of the southeast, and there is enough south in the wind to let Alana beat along her track to Miami - barely. The forecast is good today and tonight, with a drop in wind speed predicted for tomorrow. I suppose I’ll sail through the night in order to take advantage of the breeze while it lasts. I’m following Hawk Channel, a very convenient natural channel between the Keys and the offshore reef. I had toyed with the idea of sailing outside the reef in order to take advantage of the Gulf Stream, but since safe passages back through the reef are few and far between, I elected to stay inside; it just provides more options, even if I’m giving up a little speed.

Alana enjoyed a brief race with some crazy Germans in a 47-ft catamaran. In the end the cat’s longer waterline proved too much for Alana and de Fuhrer blitzed past on our port side.

Barry’s mischievous nature got the better of him again. I caught him playing Russian roulette (with a single-shot flare pistol) and narrowly avoided tragedy by slapping the pistol out of his hands. I wonder if he has any idea how much a face full of burning phosphorous would hurt, never mind the fact that he could easily have started a hard-to-extinguish fire!

Which One Doesn't Belong?

I took a couple pictures this morning of some of my more colorful Key West neighbors. Most, obviously not all, appear to be full time live-aboards with considerable collections of "stuff" on deck. The "stuff" is typically protected by a mean-looking (not Elena Kagan mean-looking, but pretty mean-looking) dog of questionable pedigree. Many have signs cautioning against coming aboard or taking their "stuff."

There, I Fixed It should send a correspondent to Key West; there are some of the most amazing work-arounds, jury rigs and engineering solutions to be seen and documented. If you click on the 3rd picture you may be able to make out the steering/propulsion arrangement for the vessel. There are a number of 2x4" boards gripping a small, nearly submerged outboard motor like chopsticks. The boards are somehow linked to PVC pipes which serve as a tiller. I assume that this arrangement is to get around Florida law which requires a vessel to be operable in order to be classified as a "cruiser." If your boat can theoretically be navigated you can call yourself a "cruiser" and live aboard. If your boat cannot be operated, you are a bum an may not live aboard. I guess that this is based on the idea that these guys could conceivably get out to the 3-mile line to pump sewage, but it is clear to me that they never do.

Key West, Key Shmest

The winds continue to howl out of the east and are forecast to do so at least until Monday when they should veer to the southeast. I can live with southeast. Southeast winds will mean a bumpy beat to windward for the first part of Alana's Key West to Miami, but if that is the price of escaping, so be it.

This morning I took the dink into town to do a load of laundry and fill a couple more jugs of fuel and water. I figure that if I bring at least 6 gallons of water every day, I will be close to topped off by the time we leave.

I have been trying to understand the appeal of Key West. If your lifestyle demands an atmosphere of extreme, overwhelming tolerance, I guess I can see why you'd want to put up with the long drive to anywhere, the high prices, the t-shirt shops and and "trains" of tourist wending their way through the streets for fleeting glimpses of spots Ernest Hemingway may once have picked his nose or moved his bowels. You really have to wonder about a place which where Jimmy Buffet is a deity.

Barry wanted to go into town today, probably to buy a rainbow flag for Alana's starboard signal halyard, but instead managed to injure himself. He has been cautioned repeatedly about the hazards posed by deck locker lids, but in his haste to get ashore managed to drop one on himself. Doubtless there are internal injuries in addition to the minor scrapes visible on his back. I just hope he has finally learned his lesson.

Anchored, Key West

Sometime early yesterday afternoon it became clear that I am not going to reach Key West today. The 20+ knot winds dwindled to nothing, making it impossible to average the 4.9 knots required for a daylight arrival. There are so many derelict vessels cluttering the anchorages of Key West that I am not going to risk a midnight arrival with no moon. I’ll loiter off the sea buoy if necessary, and then pull in Thursday morning.

Drifting around sweating as love bugs took over the ship was not pleasant. I thought perhaps I had brought them with me, so I set about smashing them by the dozen, turning the cockpit into something resembling Gettysburg, the day after. Alas, before I had even rinsed away the carnage, a whole new batch of bugs had taken the places of their fallen comrades. Apparently they are capable of flying 10 or 12miles out to sea, copulating all the way.

Were I a more experienced sailor, I probably would not have been surprised by the rapid increase in wind speeds as soon as the sun set both Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Within 10 minutes the winds increased from 10-12 to 22-25, with gusts of 29. Reefing and unreefing took me frequently from the cockpit, and the wild gyrations of the boat in beam seas required a firm handhold at all times. Neither night allowed for much sleep, but both days provided opportunities for some naps.

Barry’s been on a PR campaign of sorts. He has volunteered to help with some basic chores, and insisted on letting go the anchor this morning. He was nearly drowned when his opposable thumbs became jammed in the chain, but I was able to winch him back aboard without serious injury.

Once things cool down a little I’ll be making a dingy run to get some fuel and water. Neither is really necessary, but it seems prudent to top off whenever the opportunity presents itself. The forecast is calling for strong easterlies for at least the next few days. I don’t mind being stuck in KW for a while waiting on the wind. I detest motoring, especially into the wind, so some uncharacteristic patience might be called for. Perhaps I can introduce Barry to some of the interesting types than inhabit Key West.

Next Stop, Key West

Taking Mike’s recommendation, I gave Barry a time out this morning. He spent several hours in the dingy, being dragged ignominiously behind Alana without a drop of water or so much as a peanut to eat. Once allowed back aboard, he said all the right things and exuded contrition, but something tells me he has yet to learn his lesson. Time will tell, but my gut tells me that he is far from rehabilitated.

We left Anna Maria Island at 4:30 this morning. Alana is beating into a 20 knot wind, so it is not the most pleasant of days. The forecast called for these same winds to persist through the next week or so, so waiting for “perfect” conditions was not an option.

I’m posting this entry a little early today in anticipation of losing the cell signal in the very near future. I shall, I expect be incommunicado until Wednesday night when I should be arriving in Key West.

On the Forth Day He Rested

Today is about relaxing. I have no plans to go ashore or anything, just read, nap, eat, nap, listen to the radio, nap, snack and sleep.

The winds eventually did swing around to the east as they had been predicted to do, making this rather unprotected anchorage far more comfortable than when we first arrived late yesterday. Generally speaking, I'll take a bumpier, more exposed anchorage over a perfect "nook" requiring a long transit in and out of a harbor. It saves so much time, and often fuel, not to have to drone up some interminable channel, ALWAYS against the tide/current. It will be nice to weigh anchor before dawn tomorrow, probably without even starting the engine, and be in my "at-sea" routine 5 minutes later, sipping coffee and looking forward to a picturesque sunrise.

Barry continues to be cause for concern. I found him "huffing" (I think that's what the kids call it) an air horn this morning. I guess he figured that I wouldn't notice the ear-splitting blasts of sound that accompanied his huffs. He got two good ones in before I managed to get the horn away; whether those two huffs were enough to destroy his brain, only time will tell. So far Jessica's chaperon seems to be the one in need of being chaperoned.

As I alluded to earlier, the plan is to leave for Key West early tomorrow. The winds are forecast to be 15-20 knots out of the east and southeast, so I should be able to get to KW before too late on Wednesday. If there is too much of a southerly component to the winds I'll have to shoot straight for KW rather than hugging the coast, so it is quite likely that I will be out of cellular range all of tomorrow and most of the day on Wednesday. If they end up being pure easterlies, I'll hug the coast as long as possible to take advantage of the lee and cellular connectivity.

Anna Maria Island

Greetings from Anna Maria Island just south of Tampa Bay. I wimped out of the multi-hour trip up into Tampa Bay and opted intead to continue on a little further south. My anchorage selection was based on promises of easterly winds over the next few days. So far those winds have not manifested themselves, so the anchorage is a little rough, but I hame keeping my fingers crossed. I really need a good night's rest.

Barry continued to do his own thing. I found him shinnying either up or down the radar post; I’m not sure which. Apparently he feels he is bulletproof and is not worried about falling overboard or radiating his reproductive organs. This is not going to end well.

I’ll be checking out the weather forecast closely tonight and making a decision in the morning about the run down to Key West. A day of rest here would feel good, but one hates to miss a prime weather window.

Middle of Nowhere

As you have doubtless deduced, I was not able to get an internet connection as I passed St. Joseph Point around midnight last night. My track to Tampa Bay will keep me about 70 miles offshore, so I’ll have to send one fat (phat?) update one I reach my next stop, St. Pete sometime in the p.m. tomorrow (Sunday).

Last night was another long one. Rather than going to sleep after passing St. Joseph Point I found myself having to wend my way through a small fishing fleet working the banks south of the point. The thick fog and the fishermen’s steadfast refusal to answer radio calls made for a few stressful hours, but in the end everything worked out fine and I was able to commence 22 minute naps at around 4:00 this morning. As I write it is nearly lunch time and the fog is starting to burn off. I’m eager to secure the radar as it sucks a lot of electricity from the batteries.

Having an autopilot makes a huge difference. It is so nice to be able to move around the boat taking care of the myriad little items that require attention, not the least of which is meal preparation.

Today was so much better than yesterday. I didn’t have to fix anything and the winds were nearly perfect. They blew 10-13 knots out of the west and are to veer to the north after midnight. I really couldn’t have asked for more. As there was nothing to fix and little in the way of sail tweaking to do, I busied myself reading a book Mom gave me for Christmas. It is Rainbow’s End by Lauren St. John and describes the author’s life growing up on a farm in Africa. So far it is terrific and has brought back many memories, fond and otherwise.

I have not seen another boat since leaving the fishing fleet behind early this morning. This, combined with good winds and no fog, should make for a relatively peaceful night of 22-minute naps. I’m very much looking forward to some real sleep when I get to St. Pete tomorrow.

Off Panama City

Last night passed uneventfully. The winds remained light and southerly and the autopilot guided Alana easily toward the east at about 3 knots while I enjoyed a series of approximately 36 22-minute naps. The winds have continued light this morning, but are forecast to pick up after lunch.

Once Jessica found out that Mike would not be coming along, she decided that I needed some sort of simian chaperone to keep me on the straight and narrow. Barry seems more interested in doing his own thing than protecting my virtue, so I’m not sure of his value as a chaperone, but at least he should be good for a few laughs. He didn’t seem to take my safety brief very seriously, and this, combined with The Head’s obvious jealousy make me think that he may not make it all the way to Savannah. He has already hit the beer kind of hard and seems way too curious for his own good. The bottom line is this; Barry’s in way over his head!

I had a brief scare this morning while charging batteries with the generator. I noticed white smoke/steam spewing from the exhaust and quickly shut the generator down. I experience a very brief bout of depression as I considered a variety of expensive, time-consuming explanations, but was ultimately relieved to find that the raw water strainer was simply clogged with grass...or so I thought.

This afternoon I decided to give the batteries another quick charge (AGM batteries don’t really care how often they are charged and a partial charge is OK). Upon starting the generator I immediately noticed a louder, throatier than normal exhaust note which indicates raw water is not being properly pumped into the mixing elbow to cool the exhaust. I again pulled out all the food and gear I keep stowed in front of the generator compartment, crawled back to once again confront my nemesis and discovered that the raw water pump impeller had indeed been destroyed. I carry several spares, so this was not a disaster, just a pain in the butt. The pump is located on the rear of what was a pretty hot engine, jammed into a pretty tight little spot, making what should be a rather simple fix painful and difficult. Somehow I managed to avoid dropping any of the tiny wing-nuts or washers and completed the repair successfully in time to enjoy Mark Levin on the Sirius radio.

The rest of the day passed smoothly enough, though I do now regret not having steered a little further offshore last night. I now have to tack south to clear the shoals which extend south of St. Joseph Point (SE of Panama City) which is a little aggravating. I’m hoping to pick up a cell signal as I pass St. Joseph Point tonight (Friday the 7th) otherwise it may be a couple days before I again have a signal off Tampa.

Run Away........

I drove back to Pensacola last night from Savannah in order to get Alana out of the path of the ever-growing Deepwater Horizon slick lurking to the SW. The winds, which luckily have been out of the north for a while, have kept the oil away from Pensacola for the last few days, but starting tonight, they are forecast to be out of the southwest, then west. The oil is coming and it is time to beat feet to the east. I plan on hugging the coast of Florida most of the way to Key West. It adds a couple hundred miles, but it will make it much easier to stay in touch with those that worry about me.

This morning was spent topping off fuel, water and groceries, then I said goodbye to Dave and Jessica, a pair of ducks which inhabit the marina, before sailing on the ebb at around 1:45 p.m. Jessica earned her name by quacking incessantly as she swims along in her man's wake, doubtless offering wise observations on a variety of subjects. Dave earned his name by displaying a large number if excellent attributes, a few of which include: resplendent plumage, exceptional swimming abilities, outstanding judgement, a powerful intellect, and a Job-like ability to accept hardship and criticism.

Alas, Mike was not able to take enough time away from work to join me on this trip as we had planned. It's a bit of a bummer not to have him here, but with the autopilot seemingly on my side, I'm not expecting too much hardship.

The plan is to sail on through the night, making as much easting as possible while we have favorable winds. I may or may not duck into Panama City for a rest, but if the autopilot continues to perform, will probably just keep going.