New Orleans and West

December 7, 2008


After our 2 night stay in the Rigolets we headed up into Lake Pontchartrain and under the I-10 bridge which was a 75’ tall interstate that we could easily pass under with our 64‘ mast. This was the second bridge we had passed under since Marathon Key and even though we had a chance to measure the height of the mast when it was pulled from the boat to confirm the height, it still looked like we would hit it when we went under it.
About 100 yards after the bridge we made a right and headed towards shore to Oak Harbor marina following the markers for the channel. We had talked to the harbormaster and asked about the depth going into the harbor. He said with our 7’ draft it normally wouldn’t be a problem but we were at low tide and it was the lowest tide he had seen in 2 years. He also told us that he bottom was soft mud and that we should be able to power thru it.
About 500 feet from the marina the depth sounder said we should be aground and the boat started to slow down. During the worst of this we showed a depth of -1.2 feet and we were moving at 1.2 knots with the throttle wide open. We finally made it to the harbor where the depth was over 10 feet.
There where 2 docks in a harbor that could easily hold 10 docks, we later found out that there were 10 docks before hurricane Katrina but they were all destroyed. We found our slip, docked the boat and went to check in. It was nice to be safely tied to a dock with shore power.
Later that night while waiting for a pizza to be delivered, the gate guard showed me pictures of the destruction with 40 foot power boats lodged between the condo buildings that surrounded the marina. The guard told me that he had taped an illegal parking ticket onto the hull of a boat and when the owner arrived to survey the damage he thanked him for making him laugh instead of crying.
Additional pictures taken by a resident during the hurricane showed that the water had raised up 6 feet out of the harbor and another 8 feet to the balconies on the second floor. There were pictures of the road that led to the condo/marina complex. It was lined with dozens of boats that had floated past the condos and were stopped by the row of trees next to the road.
It’s one thing to see these images on TV but it is completely different to see them in the place where it happened. This perspective greatly increases the impact of the images.
The next morning we motored a short distance to get fuel and were surprised to see diesel at $4.65 per gallon, not that it mattered, they were closed during the week in the off season. We had some fuel, not sure how much, and 20 miles to go across Lake Pontchartrain to get to New Orleans where we could hopefully get some fuel.
There was a decent breeze so we sailed most of the way across the Lake and after some research on the internet we found that there was a gas dock open just around the corner from the city marina where we had reserved a slip for the night.
We filled up and were pleased to find that their diesel was only $2.58 per gallon, a full two dollars cheaper than the place that was closed.
We entered the marina and went down between the wrong docks and had to turn around. The boat is 47 feet long but with the dinghy hanging off of the davits in back we were about 52 foot long and the distance between the 2 docks was about 60 feet. Julie offered to spin the boat around and I gladly let her. After a successful 6 point turn we went around to the correct slip.
Going ashore to check in we found the main building empty but spotted a worksite trailer a little further down on the seawall. We walked down and checked in. It had been had ripped thru over three years before they were still working out of a temporary facility and would be for few more months until repairs were complete.
Inland from the marina was a 10 foot tall concrete wall with huge steel doors opened to provide access to the marina. Later we found out that we were in the 9th ward where some of the levees had been breached during Katrina.
While walking to a local grocery store we passed an empty store front in an otherwise occupied and busy strip mall with water marks on it that were 8 feet up. A block away there was a townhouse complex with about 150 upscale units that was completely unoccupied. There were signs of work being done on some of them but many of them sat there with windows and garage doors torn off, it was odd to say the least.
We were still beat so we rented a car and decided to do some errands and some sightseeing.
When we had to get towed in the Rigolets the Sea Tow captain asked if we were going to the French Quarter and suggested that we go to Pat O’Brien’s. We said we would go there and he told us to call him when we arrived, it seems that his best friend from college was the general manager and he wanted us to get the royal treatment after all of our problems.
Upon arriving at Pat O’Brien’s we gave captain Christian from Sea Tow a call and he said he would give us a call right back. We were standing in the courtyard when we saw a guy walk down the stairs talking on his cell phone and looking around. I asked if he was talking to Christian and he said yes to me, goodbye to Christian and introduced himself.
For the next hour we got free drinks, a tour and a detailed history of the original French Quarter drinking establishment which had it’s roots in the speakeasy days and created the infamous rum drink called a Hurricane.
We ate a tasty dinner at the Gumbo Shop and strolled around for an hour taking in the sights of the French Quarter, which is actually a National Park. The only park that liquor is not only allowed but appears to be encouraged. This would be evident by the fact that after dark the streets in the Quarter are barricaded off and you can roam the streets sipping your favorite libations.
At the far end of one of the streets we strolled down we came into an area that was filled with topless bars. There was even one that claimed on it’s marquee that they had the most gorgeous transvestites anywhere. We turned around and headed back when we were confronted by a hawker trying to sell the bare wares that were inside the doors of the establishment. We said no thanks to which he replied “ It’s OK, couples are welcome, it’s family night”. We burst out laughing and kept walking.
The next day was Sunday and we left the city marina and sailed 5 or so miles to the mouth of the industrial canal to another marina where we would spend the night and venture off at first light. The next day we had the task of getting thru the canal and all of the barges and ships that traverse it. Like all vessels we had to use the industrial locks that keep Lake Pontchartrain out of New Orleans then venture down a few miles of the Mississippi then as far down the ICW as we could get.
Sunday morning we left the marina and motored a mile to the first draw bridge in the industrial canal and requested an opening. The bridge tender replied that the traffic gate (just like a gate at a train crossing) was malfunctioning and it would take a little time to stop traffic. After 15 minutes we called back and asked humbly, as we always did, what was going on and how long it was going to be, He came back that the electrician would be there in ½ hour to fix the gate. We replied that we were going to find somewhere to park and asked that he gave us a call on the radio when the gate was fixed, he agreed to do that.
We went back to the marina where we had spent the night and finally at 9:00 we got the call from the bridge tender that we could come thru and we did.
As we motored down the Industrial Canal we first passed by a facility that built huge 100 foot plus luxury yachts and then hundreds of fishing boats and ships that had been destroyed and washed up on the shore by Katina. The scenery ran from one extreme to the other.
Our next huge obstacle was the Industrial Locks that according to some of the guides are almost impossible to get thru and pleasure craft were not welcome. Julie was concerned about going thru the locks so she had called the day before to speak with the lock master to ask about procedures.
As we approached the locks we radioed ahead to request an opening to which they replied that they would open momentarily and that we should drive in and they would throw us lines to hang on to when the gate on the other side opened.
To those who are not familiar with locks, they are a means to bring boats from one body of water to another that is at a different height. The basic theory behind them is that a boat pulls into a lock and watertight doors close behind them. There are doors on the other end of the lock that then open allowing water to enter or exit the locks until the water is the same level as the water outside of it. The level of the water can change in a lock anywhere from a few inches to 40 feet depending.
You may ask why anyone would want to do this and there are numerous reasons. The Panama canal joins the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans shortening the trip from Japan to New York by thousands and thousands of miles. The canal does not go straight across the Isthmus of Panama but goes up over a mountain range that runs through the center of the country. Boats are raised up going thru locks up to the crest of this ridge and lowered down thru the other side using additional locks.
Where we were the locks separated Lake Pontchartrain from the Mississippi river and the change was only a raise of a foot though during the spring flood season the difference was 14 feet or so.
Anyway we entered the locks and immediately the guys on the lock yelled down that we were under arrest. I didn’t get it at first but Julie was laughing and I realized that she had quoted the one guide book that talked about getting crushed or getting arrested. Seems she had mentioned that we were coming through in the morning aboard a 47’ sailboat that didn’t want to get squished and apparently we were the only vessel that matched that description this morning.
We talked to the lockmaster and got as much “local knowledge” that he could spare regarding the next leg of the days travels. The entire process took 15 minutes and we were not crushed by a barge or arrested.
While in the lock we had tried to contact the bridge tender in the draw bridge that was 100 feet beyond the exit of the locks to no avail. The lockmaster suggested that they were probably in the bathroom and called them on the phone. We now had an appointment for a bridge opening as soon as the locks open.
We bid the folks at the lock farewell, passed under the drawbridge and headed down toward the Mississippi.















Industrial Locks with drawbridge beyond



Our next goal was to head south 5 miles down the Mississippi, turn left into the Algiers canal and locks. As we motored out into the Mississippi we passed ships that were washed up on the shore from Katrina and many more that were anchored in the river in designated anchorages. There were ships ranging from 400 to 800 feet long from ports all around the world sitting at anchor waiting for something.
We quickly found ourselves nearing the Algiers locks so we contacted the lockmaster and asked to be allowed to pass thru. He told us that there 4 barges heading eastward, opposite from our westward course, that would be coming thru in a little bit and told us to wait outside the locks off to the side to wait for them.

Ships at anchor on the Mississippi

Boats on the shore after Katrina

It was pretty windy and we were having a hard time staying in one place so we turned around and head the ¼ mile back to the Mississippi river where we could go in slow circles and have some control. As soon as we headed out the lockmaster came on the radio and scolded us for leaving the staging area. Julie explained that we did not steer well at low speed so we need to retreat to where we had more room to maneuver. The lockmaster quickly came back and told us to stay in the area we were to the south of the opening to the Algiers canal until the first barge came though then we were to come into the locks and pass through.
What he hadn’t said was we were to come thru and get the hell out of the way but that unspoken direction seemed pretty obvious to us. Even though we have equal rights to the waterways with commercial traffic and equal responsibilities we were learning that the professionals would just as soon let us go thru early and have us out of their way.
We successfully passed thru the Algiers locks and continued on towards the city of Lafitte where we would make a slight detour of a couple of miles to a marina where we were told they had 7’ depths and we could spend the night. Along the ICW from New Orleans until you get to Galveston there are very few marinas designed for larger boats, especially a sailboat, since the water outside of the ICW tends to run on the shallow side in the bayous and swamps. Not to mention the hurricane damage.
We motored 3 miles down to the marina in Lafitte (which was named after the 19th century pirate Jean Lafitte) and proceeded to get stuck before we could even enter the small harbor. We decided to try to tie up along the outside break wall, along the main channel, but ran aground about 5 feet from the shore. Apparently the woman that told us that our 7 foot draft was no problem didn’t know what she was talking about ,so we motored back to where we had turned off of the ICW and found a place to anchor for the night.
The next morning we continued west down the ICW with no particular destination since there were no marinas for several hundred miles beyond this. We had left civilization for a while and enjoyed the scenery.
That evening we anchored on the side of the ICW in a small bay ,surround by swamps and a handful of small trees, that was not full of oil harvesting equipment.
I took Ziggy to shore and both of us almost fell victim to the quicksand like mud. I put him on shore with his lifejacket on and he tried to walk inland. Within 5 feet he sank in ¾ of the way up his legs, struggled to get out and made it to a tuft of grass in this muddy bog. For the first time ever he went potty, “Good boy go potty”, while wearing his lifejacket.
I coaxed him back into the dinghy and tried to row back out where it was deep enough to motor back to the boat. Somehow we had gotten stuck in the mud so I tried to use the oar to push away from land, I soon discovered that we were definitely stuck.
I jumped off of the front of the dinghy onto a piece of wood and used the oar to shove the dinghy further away then laid a branch in the mud to step on to get back in the dinghy. After a minute more of pushing we were back in deeper water. Ziggy was going to have to wait until we found real land the next day before he had the chance to get back to shore.
Back on the boat we set up a lantern in the cockpit, put together some snacks and poured a glass of wine so we could relax, reflect on the day and enjoy this unique landscape. Then the mosquitoes came. I wanted to get a picture of our repast in the setting sun and Julie agreed to pose even though the swarm was arriving. I took a few shots when she proclaimed that we were done and we both grabbed our snacks and stuff and dashed below and closed up the cabin. Thank goodness it was late fall otherwise the bugs would have been really bad .

The Rigolets

November 29, 2008

We left the anchorage at Horn Island and continued on our passage westward thru the Mississippi Sound on our way toward Lake Pontchartrain that would take us into the New Orleans area and on to the ICW. We had made the decision to come inland to utilize the protection of the ICW. The other option was going around the Mississippi river delta which was a 200+ mile trip thru the gulf and the weather forecast was not great. The inland trip follows the twists and curves of the ICW as it connects the dots of existing rivers and lakes. It’s about 150 miles further and 3 days longer but much safer.
The weather had been decent but the forecast was for high winds and scattered thunderstorms. As the skies around us started to darken we turned on the weather function on our Garmin which was fed by our XM Radio. With this service we could overlay wind speed and direction on the map along with full blown weather radar. The weather radar showed storm cells all around us. The storm cell show as symbols that can be highlighted with a cursor that shows the speed and direction of these cells.
It looked like we were going to get lucky, most of the cells were directly west of us and heading northeast meaning they should miss us. The forecast proved true, so we missed the 60 mph winds that were associated with these cells, but we still motored thru 30+ mph winds and plenty of rain which lasted for a couple of hours.















Birds around a fishing boat


At the end of the day we anchored just a ¼ mile from the Mississippi sound off of Catfish Point in a group of islands called the Rigolet’s (Rigolees to those in the know). We found a small channel off of the ICW that was deep enough to anchor and settled in. I took Ziggy ashore and found the bank was not solid but mostly swamp. It was almost dusk and I kept hearing strange sounds that sounded a lot like people talking in the distance but I knew that the only signs of civilization for miles around was a train track and an old decrepit oil platform. Julie heard the same sounds and called me back to the boat.
She went online and we listened to the sounds of alligator territory calls which sounded like people talking in the distance, a little scary. We decided to find some real land before we took Ziggy ashore in the morning.
As we sat in the cockpit in the setting sun the old oil platform took on a very eerie look. The platform was a metal building probably 75’ by 150’ sitting on a steel frame about 40 feet off of the water. The legs on the platform were twisted on one side and the whole thing leaned. The building itself was rusted and parts of the roof and some of the walls were missing, it had the look of some battle robot from some sci-fi movie.
















Old oil rig




The next morning it was sunny but very windy. We pulled anchor and motored over to the railroad bridge that was about a mile away and tried to call them on the radio to have them open up. We ended up talking to several bridge tenders until we were able to determine which bridge we were looking at.
You would think that if they heard someone on the radio saying “Railroad bridge tender, this is the sail vessel Second Star, come in please” and they looked out the window of the tender building and saw a sailboat sitting in front of the bridge they might reply. Apparently that’s not how it goes, we have found that unless you know the correct name of the bridge they don’t often reply even if they are the only bridge within radio range.
The 500 page federal guide we downloaded doesn’t help much either, they often have the wrong name and inevitably the phone number they provide ended up dumping us into to the voicemail of some young woman. We had better luck using Google earth to identify the river or island names that were closest to the bridge we were trying to contact.
Something else we learned fairly quickly was that we were far more successful if Julie made the call. Most of the bridge tenders dealt with tugboats, fisherman and ships and enjoyed talking to women. Julie started using her maple syrup with powdered sugar voice which worked even better. I wonder why she doesn’t talk to me like that anymore.
After passing by the bridge we head up Pearl River and it was just a few miles to go before we got to Lake Pontchartrain. We were only ½ mile past the bridge when the engine sputtered, running at only an idle. I knew immediately what was wrong.
We have 3 fuel tanks on the boat and I always kept 2 open until they were almost empty when I would open the 3rd tank. I then knew it was time to refuel and we had 33 gallons and about another 100 miles worth of fuel.
I had noticed the previous day that the 2 tanks were getting low but I had never opened the 3rd tank. I ran below and opened the 3rd tank but the engine was still barely running. I went below to kill the engine so I could quickly bleed the air out of the system that was sucked in when the other tanks went empty.
I was down below pumping the purge as quick as I could but there was still a ton of air burbling out of the drain tube into the jar I was draining it into.
Julie yelled down below that we were getting close to shore. We had been in the middle of the channel which was about ½ mile wide so I figured that she was just panicking. I told her to hold on, and that we would be running again.
She yelled a minute later that we were getting close and I asked how deep the water was she replied that it was 15’. I told her that I would be done soon. 15 seconds later she yelled again and I asked again how deep it was and she said 10 feet.
I ran up top and to the bow to drop the anchor which I did… just as we ran aground.
The boat was parallel to the shore being pushed towards it by the wind, we spent the next 1 ½ hours trying to get the boat out of the mud bank. The first thing I did was finish bleeding the air out of the system which took another 15 minutes. We tried to power out of the mud but being parallel to the shore we only seemed to get stuck even worse.
Using the dinghy I took the second, smaller anchor about 150 feet out into river and set it as best as I could with the dinghy. We tied the anchor line to the spinnaker halyard and cranked it in with a winch. This technique, called kedging, did 2 things, first it pulled the boat away from the shore, second it tipped the boat over since we were pulling from the top of the mast which effectively raised the keel up. Unfortunately the tide was going out and after 30 minutes of grinding the winch as hard as we could we realized that this wasn’t going to work.
We got online and called SeaTow which is a nationwide company that rescues stuck and stranded boaters. We had signed up for SeaTow at a cost of $140 per year early on in the trip as we had read about the cost of a typical tow running over $1,000. Looks like our insurance was going to pay off.
An hour later the SeaTow boat arrived and fed us a line. He tightened up the line and gave his twin 200 horsepower engine full throttle. The bow of the boat pivoted out and we started moving across the channel. About 300 feet out we were doing 6 knots when the boat suddenly pirouetted around and came to a stop. Apparently we had come to the end of the line on our 55 pound anchor. I had untied the second anchor and put a lifejacket on the line as it was shorter than the primary anchor. I never thought we would be pulled out as far as we were.
It was about 2:00 in the afternoon and the wind was getting stronger so we decided to motor the 5 miles or so to the marina and come back in the morning to get our 2 anchors. We motored up the river which took us to Lake Pontchartrain where the north west winds were whipping up some good size waves.
We were motoring about 200 yards from the rocky north shore when the engine started to stammer again. This was not good at all, the wind was driving us towards the shore and we had no anchors to stop us if the engine died.
We decided to set the sail and turn back towards the relative shelter of the river and the engine stopped sputtering. Our plan now was to go back where we had lost our anchors so I could grab the line for the second anchor we had dropped with life vest tied to it. This should be easy enough to do in the dinghy and when I had it Julie would drive the boat up to me and so I would pass it up to her and we could anchor. It was set far enough from the shore that we should have no problem getting stuck again.
As we got down to the area where the anchors were I dropped the sail and got into the dinghy. I had the life vest and the anchor line in the dinghy when I waved to Julie at the far side of the channel. She waved back at me frantically and I realized that something was wrong.
I dropped the line, sped across the channel and found out that the engine was barely running.
I got aboard and we discussed the situation. We were about ½ mile from the railroad bridge with the wind blowing us towards the portion of it that did not open. The engine was barely running. We still had no anchor. It was almost dusk. We decided to use what little power we had and the wind behind our backs to run the boat on to the shore which we did.
We called SeaTow again and talked to them about our situation. They were reluctant to come out because they had to cross Lake Pontchartrain and it was getting really rough. In the end they agreed to come out and set an anchor for us so we wouldn’t drift into the bridge if we broke free from the mud when the tide came in and the engine didn’t run.
They showed up just after dusk and dropped an anchor about 150’ upwind in the channel from where we were stuck. He let out some line, cleated off the anchor line on the bow of their boat and backed up under full power to set the anchor.
They tried to get close to us to hand us the line when I noticed that the end of the anchor line was wrapped around their outboard. The assistant on the boat almost fell in while we doing this but managed to hang on. It took them about 10 minutes but they finally got untangled and handed us the anchor line. They agreed to get us in the morning if we couldn’t get off in the night when the tide broke us free.
Shortly after they left I found that the fuel line going to the engine had kinked shutting off the fuel. I cut the wire tie that was used to hold the fuel line in place where it went around a 2” diameter support, which allowed the line to straighten out. We tried the engine and it ran flawlessly.
I went to sleep while Julie sat up on watch. She woke me up about midnight with the sensation of the boat moving freely in the waves, we were not completely free but we were not hard aground.
We backed out of the mud and started drifting downstream waiting for the anchor to stop us. We had gone much farther than I expected so I went forward and started pulling in the anchor line. It didn’t take long to realize that there was no anchor at the end of the line.
We now had another dilemma. We had anchor line in the water so we couldn’t motor forward and we were drifting towards a fishing boat that had anchored in the channel with it’s nets out, trying to catch fish as they came by in the tidal current. By the time we had all of the anchor line on board we were 100 feet from the fishing boat. Apparently we scared the captain of that boat as he was waving his flashlight madly at us. We motored away trying to decide what to do next.
We decided to break the law and tie up to one of the ICW markers. There was one across the channel in the lee of land which would give us shelter from the waves so we headed over.
I was on the bow of the boat as Julie guided the boat towards the marker, which is basically a telephone pole set in the riverbed with a red triangle and a flashing red light on it telling all that saw it where the channel was. We were about 50 feet away when we ran aground.
I jumped into the dinghy, Julie fed the anchor line into it and I started heading towards the marker. I was about 15 feet away when I heard Julie yelling. I turned around and realized that the boat was no longer stuck and she was drifting away.
I climbed back into the boat and we drove into the mud again only this time we were going 3 knots not ½ knot like we were the first time. It held this time and I was able to get the boat tied to the marker. Since it was high tide the water would only get shallower, so we decided to back the boat out of the mud. Julie powered up in reverse and soon we were out. With the boat safely tied to the marker we went to bed and slept soundly.
The next day it was windier than it had been and it was very cold so we decided to spend the next 24 hours there.
The fuel gauge for the 3rd tank showed that we had less than ¼ tank which was a little disconcerting since the we were not sure how soon we could get fuel. Many of the marinas in the New Orleans area were destroyed by Katrina and we couldn’t find out on the internet if any were open or if fuel was available.
With this uncertainty about our fuel situation we didn’t want to run the gen-set to run our sanders or even the space heater. We cleaned the boat thoroughly but spent most of the day reading and talking. It was odd to just sit around like this since we have always been hardworking and not the type to just sit around all day. We finally got comfortable with the fact that we were stuck and actually had a mini vacation.
The next day the wind died and the temperature was supposed to climb into the 60’s, so it was time to go anchor hunting. We motored down to where we had been stuck and I did as we had planned and easily retrieved the smaller anchor which we tied the boat to.
With the boat firmly anchored it was time to retrieve the other anchor which was a 2 month old Delta anchor along with a 1 month old 75 foot length of 3/8” chain and 175’ feet of ¾” anchor line that in total cost about $1,000.
I had paid attention to several landmarks around where we had dropped the anchor so I changed into my dry suit. The dry suit was not a diving type of dry suit but a sailing type for small boats that I had bought years before when racing Lasers (a 1 man racing boat that tips easily) on Lake Michigan in the fall.
We hopped into the dinghy headed towards shore where I hopped out of the dinghy and walked around the area I thought the anchor should be.
It was hard to walk around since the bottom was all mud. There was a semi-hard mantle or crust on top that you could walk on most of the time but occasionally the crust would break and I would sink into the incredibly soft mud below. One time I sucked in so deep I almost panicked, OK, maybe I panicked a little. After that I held on to the dinghy while I walked around.
After a half hour or so we decided to try a different tack and went back to the boat, changed back into dry clothes and McGyver’ed a treble hook using 2 gaff hooks, a boat hook and a 5lb lead weight. We tied a line to treble hook and tied it to dinghy and motored slowly back and forth for about ½ hour hoping to snag the chain or line. We were just about ready to throw the towel in but on the last pass we caught the chain. We pulled the chain up enough to tie a line with a life vest to it and went back to the boat where I changed back into my dry suit.
We went out to where we had snagged the chain and pulled it up to the dinghy again and pulled ourselves hand over hand along on the chain towards where the anchor was. When we got to where we could not pull the chain up anymore I jumped in the water which was about 50 degrees and used my feet to follow the chain.
About 6 feet further it disappeared into the soft mud where the water was about 5 feet deep. When I had dropped the anchor originally I had managed to drop it in about 3 feet of water just as we ran aground. The anchor had also been about 20 feet closer to the shore and barely hooked into the mud.
I cleared as much of the mud away from the chain as I could with my feet and then dove down and started clearing as much as I could with my hands. The mud was soft and cleared away easily but after a dozen or so dives my hands were 2 feet down into the mud, about 6 feet underwater, and I still hadn’t touched the top of the anchor.
We determined that when the tow boat had pulled us out to the middle of the channel and we came to the end of the anchor line the 40,000lbs of boat moving at 6 knots had pulled the anchor to some incredible depth in the mud.
The only way to pull the anchor out was either tie a line to the head of the anchor or to use the boat to pull it out backwards. I couldn’t reach the head of the anchor and the only way to pull it backwards would be with a bulldozer or crane on the beach. We realized that we could not salvage our new anchor so we decided to try to salvage the chain and line.
We went back to the boat and I changed out of my leaky dry suit and into my clothes and we went back out to pull the line out so we could retrieve it. We took the line that was around the chain and using a sawing motion slowly worked down the chain towards where we thought the end of the line would be. We only went about 30 feet along the chain before we were on the anchor line meaning that 40 feet of chain was buried in the mud. We later heard a story of a boat having it’s anchor 20’ deep in the mud under similar circumstances, this was a commercial boat and they had a nearby barge and crane that they used to pull it up.
We went as far as we could out on the line but it was apparently snagged or caught on something so tightly we could not lift it up into the dinghy. We decided that the best way to salvage the line and chain was to cut the chain off where it disappeared into the mud, drag it back to the boat and use the diesel to pull the line free.
So it was back to the boat and into my swimsuit this time, the dry suit leaked so badly and was so cold it just didn’t seem worth it.
I brought along the bolt cutters and went back to the float that we had left tied to the chain and jumped into the water. The chain was in water about 4 ½ feet deep so I had to dive down to get the bolt cutters on the chain in the muddy water. After a few tries I was ready to go, held my depth, dove down and pulled the handles of the 30” bolt cutters together and nothing happened. After a few more tries I realized that the 3/8” high test chain was much stronger than I and my bolt cutters.
2 hours later which included three 15 minute forays in the 56 degree water, each followed by bouts of shivering and shaking, we loaded up and took off for the marina that we had been trying to get to 3 days earlier.
Reflecting on this fiasco it all started because I was soooo very smart. Had I actually paid attention to Julie when she was telling me we were going to run aground this never would have happened. But I knew I could get the engine started long before this happened and that she was just overreacting. Maybe I’ll listen to her next time………………….. I hope I listen to her next time instead of being such a know it all.

Port St. Joe to Mississippi

11/24/2008

We had arrived in Port St Joe yesterday around 5:00 after our big 33 hour jump from Tampa and motored up to the dock in light winds. We checked in with the harbor master, took showers and went up to the restaurant to have dinner.
The restaurant had a fairly extensive seafood menu as many do along the coast, but one item on their menu appealed to us more than the others, “Cook your Catch”. In other words, they would cook the tuna we caught the day before and we wouldn’t have to clean it. We ordered and the waitress said most people cleaned their own fish, but one of the guys in the kitchen would do it for a couple of bucks.
The guy came out and we walked back to the fish cleaning tables by the dock. A nice gentleman at another table informed us that we were Americans and wouldn’t like this fish. It turns out that we hadn’t caught a tuna but a bonito which is not really considered an edible fish. We ordered dinner and quickly went to sleep.
The next morning we fueled up and walked to a nearby grocery store and filled our fridge. We also stopped at boating/fishing store and got some more fishing gear, as I was determined to catch dinner some day. (fyi, if you are 3 miles offshore, you are in international waters and do not need a fishing license. )
Our destination today was Panama City which was a mere 45 miles or so west along the Florida panhandle. The day was pretty uneventful and we ended up motoring the last bit across the bay to the Panama City‘s city Marina. As we motored across we saw flocks and flocks of pelicans, seagulls and a slew of other types of diving birds feasting on the fish in the bay. They would all swarm to one area and then to another as a group, taking off, diving and landing in waves. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

A Flock of Pelicans

A Flock Of Seagulls

We pulled into the marina at 5:15 only to find out that we were finally back in the Central time zone and it was 4:15. Not that we have much use for clocks or calendars, we actually have more use for docks and colanders (yes, we cook real food on board). If the weather is good and the sun is up we sail, we don’t often know what day it is or have a clue as to the date.

We walked to the downtown district and enjoyed window shopping for a bit. It was nice to stretch our legs and see some of the Christmas decorations. Going back to the discussion about time, it’s almost feels as if time has stopped for us, but it keeps on marching in the world around us.
The next day our goal was to make it to Destin Florida so we headed out into the Gulf of Mexico. It was cool with a so-so breeze, not much in the way of waves, so we motor-sailed. The day was pretty uneventful until we got to Destin.
As we approached the harbor mouth we talked to a couple of marinas about staying the night. They said that the last hurricane had pushed a sand bar across the mouth of the channel where they were all located and the depth was 6 foot max. They suggested that we come into the harbor and anchor at the west end near the highway bridge.
We were a little worried about entering the harbor itself since the guide book we were using claimed that the sand bars at the harbor mouth shift on a regular basis and that the buoys aren’t moved all the time. Sounds just like our mast misadventure back near Tampa but this time there were only 1-2 foot waves instead of the 3-4 foot waves that we had back then.
We motored slowly into the harbor mouth without incident and found our anchorage. We were about 150’ from a bridge with 30 foot clearance and just around the corner from the ocean. We dropped 2 anchors each facing a different direction since the tides and currents going in and out ran as high as 3 knots in either direction. We didn‘t want to wake up with the boat at sea or against a bridge.
We also set the anchor drag alarm on the chart plotter for 75’. If the GPS in the Garmin detects that we have moved more that 75’ it will set off an alarm.
I went to Radio Shack to pick up a replacement TV antenna since our previous one fell apart. It picks up both standard TV and the new HD signals. HD is awesome, it can be further off target than the regular channels with amazing clarity.
We took Ziggy to the beach so he could do his thing and he went absolutely nuts. Destin has the whitest beaches that I have ever seen. The sand was incredibly fine and flew around him as he ran and cut in tight circles. He was acting the same way he did when he used to play in the snow back in Illinois.
The next morning we took off heading further west along the Florida panhandle the date was November 25th, it was 2 days until Thanksgiving. It had dawned on us a couple of day before that we had first sailed into Florida on October 28th, we had been in Florida for a month and wanted out.
We joked about calling the consulate so they could help us get out or confessing to a crime in another state so we could get extradited. But this wasn’t funny anymore.
We had originally planned on getting to Corpus Christi on December 1st and yes that is in 2008. We thought this was very do-able since sailing straight thru at 6 knots would take 2 weeks. But with less than a week left on our original deadline we had about 800 miles left to go……. It wasn’t going to happen.
Our goal for today was to get out of Florida and into Alabama, nothing personal all you Floridians, but we wanted to get done.
We started motoring and a couple of hours later we were joined by a family of dolphins who stayed with us for a good half hour. The water here was clearer than anywhere else we had seen, and maybe even clearer than in the Caribbean, so we could see the dolphins when they would dive down to 20 feet or so.

Clear water and a Pod of Dolphins

There was mom and dad and 2 smaller ones that seemed to swim as fast as and jump as high as their parents, it was incredibly entertaining.
We motored westward and entered the ICW at Santa Rosa Island and continued on about 15 miles to a small lake and up to what had been a marina complex but after a hurricane a few years back was only a restaurant and bar. There was no current in this stretch so we anchored at the end of where the docks had been feeling comfortable about where we were parked for the night.
The restaurant was called Pirates Cove and was a cool looking building with metal siding and roof. It had a large screened in seating area on one side and had the look of a great summertime party place. The sign on the front door said that they were closed for the Thanksgiving weekend but we had read on their website that they were having a community potluck Thanksgiving dinner that evening.
Some hippy looking guy in his mid 20’s was sitting on an old ugly sailboat on which he appeared to be living. We talked to him and asked about the restaurant, he said that it was closed for the holiday. I asked him about his boat and he said that it was only about 15 years old and that it was a custom built boat off the lines of a wooden boat. Looking closely at the boat you could see the weave of the heavy fiberglass that it was made of, it was some of the worst fiberglass work I had ever seen.
Looking into the boat, it was full of clothes and other junk with a small area cleared on one of the bunks to sleep on, it was kind of like a nest or something. Hard to believe that someone was living like this but it takes all kinds.
It was about 4:30 so we went back to the boat and hung out waiting to see if anyone showed up. About 6:00 we noticed a handful of cars parked by the restaurant so I went up to see what was up. Walking into the bar there was about 20 people chatting, I walked up and asked who was in charge. I was informed that the owner was in the kitchen and they pointed past the bar where I saw the kitchen.
There were 2 men there, one heavyset younger guy and a trim old guy with longer white hair and a full white beard. I walked in, introduced myself and told them that Julie and I had been on the road for 6 weeks and would like to join them for Thanksgiving dinner.
I must’ve sounded pretty pathetic because the skinny guy with the Santa Claus hairdo stepped forward, gave me a big hug and said that they would be glad to have us join them. I thanked them and told them we would be back in a little bit with mashed potatoes, since that was the only thing we had enough of for the potluck.
We showed up 20 minutes later with our pot of mashed potatoes made of 4 packets of seasoned instant mashed potatoes and were welcomed by quite a few people in the group.
The party was underway so we got in the end of the buffet line and filled our plates with turkey, ham, sausage, vegetables with melted cheese, all sorts of potatoes with melted cheese and more dishes with cheese. You gotta love the south, they’ve yet to embrace healthy eating at the cost of flavor.
With our plates full we wandered out to the screened in porch and sat at a table that happened to be next to “Santa Claus”.
We talked as we ate and found out that Santa and Mrs. Claus had lived on a sailboat in the Caribbean, much of the time on a boat without an engine, living off of the fruits of the sea and land. They lived this nomadic lifestyle for almost 20 years, but ended up in Alabama 10 years ago and started building small wooden boats for a living.
The next morning we awoke feeling a little more content and headed down the ICW for Mobile Bay. Mobile Bay is pretty good sized, 10 miles or so across and 30 miles long, stretching from the Gulf of Mexico up to Mobile. There is some ship traffic running north and south in channels that run thru the bay which aside from the channels is only about 5 feet deep. The bay has dozens of oil and natural gas rigs dotting the horizon.
After motoring east thru Mobile Bay we entered Mississippi sound which is a body of water defined by the coast of Alabama and Mississippi to the north and a string of islands to the south. Beyond these islands was the Gulf of Mexico. We left Alabama and entered Mississippi, this was the shortest time we had spent in any state. We were very happy to have another state under our keel.
There were no marinas on this stretch of our journey and we hadn’t picked an anchorage for the night since we were not sure how far we would get due to the weather. Now we were looking for a safe place to anchor for the night. The winds were out of the south so our thought was to anchor on the north side of one of the barrier islands that defined Mississippi sound. Looking at the chart plotter, Google Earth and internet searches we decided to tuck in behind the end of Horn Island. It was the tallest island around and long enough to give us some shelter from the winds and waves coming in off of the Gulf.
We dropped anchor and both of us jumped in the dinghy with Ziggy to go ashore for a bit. The island was about ½ mile wide and about 10 miles long, with the highest point, a dune, about 40 feet tall.

Notice Ziggy, our 70lb mutt to the left in the picture.

We landed near a huge channel marker that was sitting on the beach about 70 feet from the water. It was about 30’ tall overall and the lower portion was about 15’ across and it had to weigh several tons. It must have broken loose and washed ashore during a hurricane to get something that big that far ashore.

We goofed off for a while and headed back to the boat before sunset, we ate well and slept well that night.

Tampa Bay to Port St. Joe, FL

November 22 - 23, 2008

The most amazing thing happened today, we woke up before dawn and went back to sleep for another hour. The next thing we did was start the engine, which actually cranked over just fine relieving me greatly as I had dreamed that I had tried to start the engine and the engine battery was dead as a doornail, not that I actually know anything about the specifics of doornails and their afterlife.
This wouldn’t be so bad except that when we woke up before dawn the space heater we had been running when we went to bed was off. The reason it was off was not because someone had turned it off but because the house batteries had dropped to a low enough voltage that the inverter shut itself down.
Seems like the only time we really sleep well is when we are moored to a dock with our power cords plugged in along with cable TV and of course the ever popular wireless connection for the laptops.
When in doubt we always start the big engine first (the Yanmar) as it always starts immediately. With it running we crank up the Westerbeke which runs the big generator and then turn off the Yanmar.
The Westerbeke provides 8000 watts of power which is more than enough for the coffee pot and the microwave plus whatever. It also charges the batteries thru the inverter at 125 amps plus another 50 or so amps with it’s own alternator, which is enough to get them topped off in about ½ hour.
With this done I took Ziggy to shore to do his thing while Julie made coffee and stowed everything. Back on board we weighed anchor and motored out to leave the Tampa Bay area for the 4th or was it the 40th time. On the way thru the bay we rigged the staysail and our makeshift plastic tarp bimini top which in conjunction with the original plastic windows, that were not destroyed in a storm a month ago, provide decent enough protection from the winds and occasional waves.
Leaving the harbor we had to follow a channel west for about 6 miles to clear the shoals that lie to the north and west of the harbor mouth. The winds where on our beam (side of the boat) so we set the staysail and main to help us along. A little while later we set the new genoa and started to move along at over 8 knots, we cut the engine and settled in at 6 ½ knots which is a little over our target of 6 knots.
When we reached the last marker and hardened up ( sailed closer to the direction that the wind was coming from) we were on course. The winds were about 12 knots and we were close reaching at 7 to 7 ½ knots; fair sailing indeed.
The forecasted high for the day on shore was 70 degrees, offshore where we were the high was going to be in the low 60’s and with the wind it seemed much cooler. So we were bundled up in fleeces and foul weather jackets with hats and gloves.
We wanted to keep warm as this was going to be our longest leg by far on the trip. Our destination was up near the panhandle of Florida, a city called Port St. Joe which was 200 miles away. At our target speed of 6 knots we would be wailing, I mean sailing, for 33 hours and should get into the harbor before sunset tomorrow.
We had intended to stay near shore (no more than 20 miles out) but this was going to add several hours to the trip. But with more faith in the boat than our ability to dock at night we decided to cut straight across. This, as the crow flies, route would take us 70 miles off shore but we felt good about the boat and our abilities plus the forecast was for reaching (wind from the side) blowing 10-15 knots with 2-4 foot waves, perfect conditions for this boat. If all went to hell we have our emergency satellite transponder that sends our location out if activated. We also have our dinghy plus a 6 man inflatable life raft made by a company named Winslow which is supposed to be the very best. Buying the life raft and satellite transponder is kind of like buying insurance, you hate to spend the money but you wouldn’t be without it.
As we sailed north we were greeted by 5 dolphins that stayed with us for over ½ hour, which was by far the longest we have had a group stay with us. They would swim next to the boat alone and in groups then they all migrated towards the bow (front). They would swerve and weave from side to side moving at what appeared to be twice our speed of 7 knots.
Quite often one of them would swim about a foot below the water directly in front of the bow with it’s tail almost touching it as it moved up and down thru the waves. After a minute or so the dolphin would move off to the side to catch a breath with a telltale snort as they sucked air in thru their blowhole.
The curious thing is that one would move away from the bow to catch a breath, another would move right in to take it’s place, this must be the cool spot to hang out.
After the dolphins took off we decided to try to catch some fish for dinner. We had tried fishing in the past but at the speeds we travel all the lure seems to do is dance along the surface where no respectable fish would hang out. Julie suggested using the 5 lb lead weight that came with the boat as a sinker but I was afraid it would break the fishing line.
Just for grins I took about 30 feet of 1/8” nylon line and tied it to the weight along with another lure on a short fishing line. This rig sunk about 2 feet in the water but was so close to the boat I figured we had a better chance of clubbing a fish than catching it.
But this little trial provided the inspiration for something that ultimately would work. We took the lure off of the weight and the 1/8 line and tied a simple overhand knot around the fishing line near the weight. We lowered the 5 lb weight into the water which dragged the fishing line down with it. Looking back, the lure had disappeared and by our best guess was running about 5 feet deep. This had potential as our sonar/fish finder showed fish at about this depth.
About 2 hours later while I was typing this I heard the sound of the fishing reel run so I jumped up, set the drag and 5 minutes later landed what we thought was an 8 lb tuna
Sure wish I had watched a fish cleaning video on You-Tube, it’s been over 30 years since I’ve cleaned a fish and I didn’t do that many.

The good news is we have a book on cruising cooking and the author highly recommends cooking Tuna as a steak cut, I can do that. We figured it would be better to clean the fish in port. Sharp knives and big waves don’t make for fun times.

We had Dinty Moore stew for dinner (a favorite of our sailing buddy Lee) cooked in the microwave, add some crackers and it is a feast fit for a king. That and it warmed us up and filled our stomachs for the long night ahead which is important ‘cause there aren’t any White Castle’s or Denny’s where we can stop in to grab a bite.
The sun set around 6:00 with only a cloud or 2 to be seen which was a good sign. Around 6:30 we saw a boat in the distance ahead of us so we turned on the radar to see where it was heading. The radar has a function where you can draw a line on the map towards a target and you can watch which direction it is moving relative to your movement. After about 10 minutes we were able to figure out that it was moving to the left about 3 miles ahead of us and that it was probably as close as it would get.
The radar is great for night sailing especially if the visibility is poor. There is another function that allows you to create arcs or circles around the boat at distance that you can define. If anything shows up on the radar in these areas an alarm goes off notifying you that a boat or land is in this area.
Tonight the visibility is to the horizon so we will only turn the radar on every ½ hour or so since it draws so much power. Just did the Radar check and nothing to be seen out to 16 miles.
It is also important to do a visible check every 20 minutes or so to see if something is sneaking up on you like a freighter, which can travel 2 miles in about 10 minutes. it’s also a great opportunity to peak out from under the “bimini” and see the stars.
There are 2 brilliant stars or most likely planets setting to the west. The first one is about 10 degrees above the horizon, the second one is about 5 degrees above the horizon and a little to the right. On the horizon directly in line with these to planets is the freighter we saw earlier.
It is a strange thing to be sailing out here like this. I have sailed the Mackinac race 12 times and Julie has 2 under her belt. Lake Michigan at it’s widest point is about 100 miles wide so you can be 50 miles from shore in this race. At night with a little haze or fog it may seem like you are the only boat out there, all alone with your crew of 8 or so.
When the dawn breaks and the haze burns off you can always see a half dozen or so of your competitors and maybe even the Coast Guard cutter that herds it’s flock of sailboats up the lake.
As I am writing this we are 61 miles from the nearest land, about 80 miles from the nearest Coast Guard base which is in Tampa and probably 20 miles away from the freighter that passed in front of us 2 hours ago.
Not that we need any help but it is a little odd and maybe unnerving to be out this far so alone. I suspect as we grow more experienced and confident in the boat this uneasiness will subside but I don’t know if it will ever go away.
Fear is not always a bad thing. If we didn’t fear harm we would be far more likely to walk into traffic. If I didn’t have an underlying fear of what could go wrong I wouldn’t check the things that need to be checked on a regular basis. It is this checking that keeps us safe on our way by preventing the things we fear.
It is 8:48 pm, Julie is sleeping, the sky is full of stars and my favorite constellation Orion just showed up to the east. The wind is blowing about 13 knots directly off of our beam, the waves are 2-3 feet and we are close reaching with the Main, Full Genoa and Staysail at over 7 knots. This is has to be some of the best sailing I’ve done since we started this journey which according to the trip odometer on the Garmin has taken us 1228 nautical miles. I almost wrote knotical miles which would have been wrong which reminded me of the following true story.
While rebuilding the house in Las Cruces that we currently have for sale we built some cabinets and “built ins” out of a wood called Knotty Alder. Knotty Alder has a warmth similar to Hickory along with some knots that give it character so it is a popular wood these days, it is also cheap. The local lumber yard sells this by the board foot so there is no SKU or bar code for it. You just tell them what kind of wood it is and how many board feet you have and they look it up and charge you accordingly.
I went in to purchase a few boards to finish up a piece we were working on and brought them up to the check out where a new “girl” was working. She was in her mid 20’s and had only been there a week so I didn’t think she would identify the wood so I said I had 15 board foot of Knotty Alder. She looked at me with this confused look and said “Naughty Elder, is that an account name?” I managed to not say anything crude or laugh as I explained about the Knotty Alder and went on my way.
Back to the boat, it is just eating it’s way thru the waves with power rhythm and authority. It kind of reminded me of riding a thoroughbred at a gallop. We had the good fortune of strong steady winds all night with average speeds of over 7 knots. Late into the night the waves did pick up and the wind favored us with about two hours of speeds between 8 ½ -9 ½ knots. A little disconcerting when you can’t see a thing. We are taking turns sleeping. With only two of us, we both have to be on deck, in case something goes wrong. It is cold but thankfully our friend Rick left his sleeping bag.
Sometime about 3 in the morning I noticed some strange waves next to the boat and spotted a large flash of silver just below the water. At first I thought it was the Loch Ness monster then I remembered I wasn’t in Scotland.
As I watched I realized it was a group of dolphins and my initial reaction was that they were a bunch of teenage hoodlum dolphins that were trying to steal our hubcaps. I wasn’t worried because unbeknownst to these young punks the wheels had come off this baby a long time ago.
The sun came up and we had already put over 120 miles behind us but still had another 80 miles to go. The wind slowed and came in from the south warming things up so we showered and relaxed in the cockpit in shorts and T-shirts while the autopilot dutifully guided us along.
The day has been fun but it really started to cool down around 1:00 as the wind filled in from the north, the good news is there are no waves and we have a full suit of sails up along with a little engine assist doing ~ 8 knots to get to the dock in Port St Joseph, FL before sunset.
After 33 hours on the water with only a few hours of sleep we’re getting a little goofy, singing along with the XM - Summer Love from the musical Grease and dancing with the dog.
Sorry if this went on so long but this is the first real-time blog that I’ve had a chance to write. All the rest have been recollections, some as old as 2 weeks but this was pretty much written while it happened.
By the way I want everyone to know that I write this but Julie embellishes, edits, corrects and punctuates.

And as I (Julie) am currently embellishing, I have to say that his Johnson isn’t as big and impressive as it looks. The camera does add ten pounds you know. And occasionally, no matter how many times you pull it, it just won’t start!

Tampa Boatyard

Tampa Bay boatyard
We didn’t go to a boatyard in Tampa or even in the bay but we ended up about 5 miles down the ICW from Tampa Bay at a place called Snead Island Boat Works. We decided to go there because they actually had a crane. We needed a crane because after our last sail with the mast “shrinking” again we decided that there was a problem not with the hull or mast step but with the mast itself and it needed to come out.
We had talked to several boat yards and Snead Island was the only one that had their own crane, they were also highly recommended on several websites. I talked to the yard manager on the phone before we arrived and told him that we needed to have the mast pulled and that I wanted to do some of the work myself. After a bit of chit chat and telling him that I had worked in a boat yard for 5 years he said this would be OK. Quite a few boat yards won’t let you do any major repairs on your own boats, I think the main reason for this is because of liability issues.
We arrived late in the afternoon and softly ran aground trying to dock on the wall outside off the marina. One of the yard managers came out and told us that we needed to come into the basin and dock on the wall that was just thru the entrance and 10 feet to the left where it was deeper. We spun back into the open bay and slowly approached the narrow entrance to their marina and put the boat into reverse, which we had recently discovered pushed the stern to starboard and the bow to port. (which means the back of the boat went right and the front went left).
Julie was standing at the middle of the boat with a line that she threw to the man waiting on shore who wrapped it around a cleat and stopped us.
The yard manger, Steve, came over and talked to us about everything we needed to do to get ready to pull the mast in the morning. Julie and I spent the next 2 hours loosening shrouds, removing the boom and other hardware plus disconnecting wires for the instruments and lights that are on the mast.
8:30 the next morning we heard the crane pull up and we grabbed Ziggy and got off of the boat. Being a person that is not capable of staying away from “the action” I ended up back on the boat to help the yard manager, Steve, attach the cable from the crane to a piece of webbing which was wrapped around the mast. Next we tied a rope thru the webbing and the crane operator reeled in the cable which slid the webbing up the mast to a point a little more than half way up the mast. We then tied the rope onto the winches on the mast which kept the webbing from sliding any further up the mast.
I volunteered to go below to help guide the mast thru the cabin to keep it from banging in to things. Next there was discussion between Steve and the crane operator such as “boom up”, swing left” to get the crane lined up with the mast and then “cable up” which is the command to start the process of lifting the mast out of the boat.
The mast stuck a little as the crane started to lift it. You could tell because the boat lifted just a little maybe an inch and then when the mast “popped”. In a previous life working in a boat yard I helped pull to a hundred masts but had never had this happen. As the mast came out from the darkness of the bilge I could see that the base of it was jagged, looking kind of like piece of torn paper. This would explain everything, the shortening of the mast causing the loose rigging without the base of the mast moving down. When the mast was pulled up thru the deck I asked Steve if he had ever seen this before. He told me that he had a handful of times and that it was not that uncommon on older boats. The crane swung the mast over to the side and it was laid down on saw horses.




















Mast out of the boat


With the mast laying down we were able to look into it and saw that the aluminum on the inside of the mast had never been painted or treated in any manor from the factory. This lack of any protective coating allowed saltwater to attack and finally corrode enough of it away so that it was weaker than the loads generated when we ran aground causing it to crumble. The mast was pitted and pretty heavily corroded up to about 4” inside the mast.
A little later I found a piece of the original mast about 1 ½” tall and 1/3 of the original diameter on the ground next to where the mast was set down. It must have been wedged inside when the mast crumbled and fell out as it was being lowered. It was very corroded and by my estimation weighed less than half of what it should have.
Looking inside of the mast step I found a mixture of sludge and crumbled aluminum about 3 inches deep. I scooped it out, cleaned the step which is an oval shaped stainless steel plate with vertical collar welded to it in the shape of the mast. There were six ½” bolts sticking up out of the bottom of the bilge that were used to hold the mast step in place.
Steve said the way to fix it was to cut off the bad part of the mast and build the mast step up the amount that we cut off of the mast. Cutting off everything that was bad would leave a strong mast, building up the area under the mast step would leave the mast the same height. This made sense and I agreed to the idea, he said he would stop by later with a Skilsaw to chop the mast base down and take a look to see what could be done to build the mast step up.



















Mast chunk on left - Chopped off piece on right



I had worked thru a couple of ideas and called my very good friend and long time sailing and boat modifying buddy Jack to bounce a couple of ideas off of him. I asked him what he thought the load on the mast was and he guessed 30,000 lbs after I gave him the size and weight of the boat.
With that guess under our belt Jack asked for the dimensions of the mast cross section and the thickness of the mast (for those of you that don‘t know, aluminum masts on boats are not solid, they are hollow) our mast is 9” from front to back, 7” wide and 3/16” thick.
Jack calculated the total number of square inches and multiplied it by the strength of aluminum and divided by 3 for the safety margin designers put in “just in case” all in his head and came up with a number that was close to his original guess.
This information was important so I could use a material strong enough so that it wouldn’t compress under the loads of the mast. 30,000 pounds is quite a force but the base of the stainless steel mast step is oval measuring 11” by 13”. Roughly, the base of the step has an area of 140 square inches. Dividing 30,000 lbs by 140 square inches gives 214 lbs per square inch. To put this number in perspective, if a 120lb woman wearing high heels puts all of her weight on one heel that is ½” by ½” she is asserting 480lbs per square inch on the floor (½ X ½ = ¼ Square inch with 120 lbs of force on it, multiply this 120 by 4 to get the force generated on 1 square inch and you get 480 lbs per square inch). This was not an insurmountable task.
Steve showed up on his lunch hour and cut the mast base off which took a few minutes, he then came below and looked at the mast step. He suggested using pieces of mahogany marine plywood with waterproof glue stacked up with layers of fiberglass matte (which is kind of like felt) between each layer.
I agreed and he had his ship’s carpenter cut me enough pieces to account for the 5 ½ “ of mast that was gone.
I cleaned out the bilge and ground away the surface of the fiberglass where the plywood was going to be stacked to give a good clean bond area and since it was now 6:00 we called it a day.
When we first arrived at the yard we told them we were going to have the mast pulled and go anchor in the harbor to work on the boat. They suggest we just stay on their seawall and use their facilities, we took them up on this without a second thought.
We had dinner and went off to their shower facilities which were quite nice. We have a shower on the boat that works just fine. The water is heated via a 20 gallon or so water heater in the bilge which is heated thru the “radiator” on the engine or by regular old 120V AC. But showering on most boats is kind of like showering in a closet that also has the head ( toilet) and sink, so showering on shore is always a treat.
The next morning I laid down 3 layers of fiberglass cloth on the bottom of the bilge where the new plywood base was going to go plus an additional 4 inches around the area to tie the new mast step into the hull, these 3 layers were about 3/16” total. I bolted down the first layer of plywood and plenty of epoxy oozed out ensuring a good solid bas and bond. Each additional piece of plywood was coated on all sides with epoxy to keep water out and another layer of fiberglass matte was place between each layer to ensure the strongest buildup possible. I secured each layer to the one below with matte and epoxy with 20 drywall screws.
With 8 layers of the Okum marine plywood installed I had regained the 5 ½ “ that had been cut off of the mast. I added 4 layers of fiberglass ( 8 oz biaxial with matte if you really must know) to make a solid bed for the stainless steel mast step and called it a day.
We were low on provisions so I grabbed my back pack and hiked 2.8 miles to the meat market and another ¼ mile to the produce stand and returned to the boat almost 2 hours later with 20 pounds of great stuff and demanded a back rub. Yes I can be quite the whiner.
Around 10:00 the next morning they re-stepped the mast and we spent most of the rest of the day reattaching shroud, electronics and the rest of the stuff that goes in and around the mast. We finished up around 3 in the afternoon and decided to stay until the morning, just so we could relax a little bit and use their showers again.
We had installed a 4 cubic foot fridge/freezer which is about 3 times the size of a dorm fridge while we were here. We used about 15lbs of ice per day at about $4.00 per day so spending $178.00 at Lowes for this fridge had a fairly quick payback. The fridge was about 1” too wide to get down below so we gut off some of the main hatch trim and glued it back on after we got the fridge down. There is a seat in the hallway heading back towards the aft cabin that was a waste of space and fortunately the fridge fit in the space with about ¼” to spare.
The next morning I remembered that our stuffing box was still leaking, I talked to Steve about borrowing a couple of 3” open end wrenches ( aka huge mongo wrenches) to adjust the stuffing box. He chuckled and said “you don’t do it that way, I’ll send someone over to show you”. 30 minutes later one of the mechanics stopped by with a pair of Channel Locks ( great big pliers ) and a hammer.
This guy whacked the lock nut a few times with the hammer and it broke free from the cap nut, he then spun the cap nut down until it stopped leaking. It took him 3 minutes with $30.00 worth of tools to do what I had not been able to accomplish over 3 hours with $50.00 worth of tools I had purchased for the job. So much for what I know.
With the mast and stuffing box done we were excited to get going, our problems were behind us and the forecast was great. Julie turned the key to start the engine and nothing happened.
I asked if she had turned the key and she gave me that look. I asked her to turn it again and when nothing happened again I almost snapped or maybe I did.
We had just spent 3 days repairing the collapsed mast base. Just before that we had rebuilt the starter on the gen-set. Before that we had replaced the headsail that tore itself up in Charleston. Before that we had replaced the alternator on the Yanmar diesel. Before that we had replaced the batteries. Before that we had repainted the boat. Before that we had rebuilt the rudder.
We were going thru money like a drunk sailor. Coincidence????? I think not.
Going back to being a kid working on cars with my dad, I decided to start with some of the basics: a starter is nothing but an electric motor that turns the engine fast enough to get the pistons to start firing, at which time the engine is running and you step on the gas and go.
I went to the engine room and had Julie turn the key again. I heard the distinct click of the solenoid, or Bendix, pulling in, which should provide the required power to make the starter run. The next step was to check the power cables coming in to the starter to see if they were loose. Great news, the first wire I wiggled, the main wire to the starter was incredibly loose.
I found the right wrench, tightened it up and confidently asked Julie to start the engine. Nothing happened.
This time I really lost it, going on about pieces of poop and not catching a break. Julie was wondering about my sanity (even more than usual) and asked what was going on.
I explained that if tightening the wire hadn’t worked the problem was most likely that the starter itself was burned out, probably because of the loose connection and it would take 2-5 days and several hundred dollars at least to have it rebuilt or replaced.
After my “little” tirade I asked her to try to start it a couple more times. I heard the sound of an electrical arc that was away from the starter at the back of the engine. It turned out that the main engine ground cable was corroded where it attached to the engine block. After the 5 minutes it took to clean and reassemble everything the engine started flawlessly and we where on our merry way.
We chose to cross Tampa Bay and exit there instead of exiting thru the channel where we had run aground 4 days earlier. It was a little further but the Tampa Bay channel was deep enough for ocean going ships and there was no chance for us to run aground here.
We felt bad about the time and money it took to repair the mast after grounding but on the other hand felt pretty good as similar loads could be generated on the mast while sailing in high winds and pounding seas. If we were sailing with 40 knots of wind and 20 foot waves and the mast base collapsed, loosening the shrouds the way it did, the mast would have certainly fallen. Now imagine if this happened in the middle of a stormy night, 80 miles from land.
Our little mishap was probably a blessing in disguise.

Sunset from the boatyard.

Sarasota to Tampa Inlet and Back Again

We got up just about dawn and started our morning ritual, take Ziggy ashore, make coffee, check the engine for oil, clean up, store everything, weigh anchor and motor away. Our destination that evening was Clearwater, FL which was about a 40 mile trip. This was going to be our jumping off point for the 180 mile trip up to the panhandle of Florida.
The channels in and out of Sarasota harbor were too shallow for us to pass thru so we started up the ICW towards Longboat pass which showed plenty of depth for us to exit. The trip up was about 10 miles so we enjoyed the scenery and warm weather.
About ½ way on our little journey we ran aground in the center of the ICW and had to spin the boat and motor back towards a side to get going again. This was not the first time we had gotten stuck and by far not the worst.
Coming out of Dismal key we got stuck so badly we ended up using the dinghy tied to a halyard (one of the lines that pulls sails up to the top of the mast) to lean the boat over far enough to get the keel out of the sand so we could go. I had the 9.9 horsepower outboard at full throttle and the boat leaned about 25 degrees lifting the keel up by a foot or so. After it started to move I still kept pulling until we had a foot or two of water beneath the keel.
The ICW is supposed to be a minimum of 10 feet deep along this stretch but there is always drifting of sand and mud along the way. Federal funding to keep the ICW has been cut in the past few decades and they do the best they can to keep it safe, having us get stuck occasionally is lower on their priority list.
We got down to Longboat pass, hailed the bridge tender over our marine radio and he told us he would have it opened up right when we got there, which he did.

Bridge at Longboat Pass

We passed thru and we motored down the channel at about 7 knots to fight the 3 foot waves coming at us, following the buoys out about 3 miles to where we could turn north and head for Clearwater.
Julie turned north a few hundred yards past the last buoy in 20 feet of water and I went below. About 15 seconds later the boat slammed so hard I was thrown to my knees, we had run aground. I got up and ran back up top where Julie was throttling up the diesel to full power and trying to turn back to where we had come from.
At first we stayed put rising up and slamming on the hard sand bottom with each wave. At one point we were over so far that a large wave broke over our port aft (back left) quarter and splashed up into the raised cockpit.
I was getting pretty frightened at this point. Boats sink occasionally but I suspect more are swamped while being dragged sideways up on a beach or rocks. The 40 some foot boat that we saw on it’s side at Marco Island was swamped after it swung on it’s anchor into shallow water at high tide. When the tide went out, a difference of about 4 feet, it laid over so far that water came in the hatches and filled it up. It was totaled in virtually no wind or waves.
We were out in 3 foot waves and about 15 knots of wind, being pushed towards the beach. Fortunately we had not put our sails up yet which would have driven us on shore. Thankfully the 100 horsepower, inter-cooled, turbocharged Yanmar diesel screaming at full speed was able to push us towards deeper water. At first we only moved a foot or two at a time as we raised up on a wave, only to crash back down on the sand, but after about 30 seconds we were back in deeper water.
We both looked at the map and buoys and everything said we should have been in 25 feet of water but apparently a recent hurricane had move the shoal further out. Hurricanes and currents change the contour of sandy bottoms, especially near inlets, on a regular basis. Quite often maps and guide books warn of this. Usually, however, the Coast Guard, NOAA or maybe it’s the buoy police move them to prevent mariners from hitting obstructions.
We regrouped, pointed the boat north, still motoring and Julie insisted that something was wrong with the “feel” of the boat. I assured her all was well and told her that she was just a little shaken up from our grounding. It was then that both of us noticed that the shrouds that hold the mast up were all loose and that the mast was flopping around like crazy. This was not good at all.
I grabbed a couple of heavy dock lines and laced them around the shrouds from side to side to tighten them up. When I got done it looked like a spider had made a giant blue web at the base of the mast, but it was no longer flopping around.
We turned back around and headed for the drawbridge and the ICW where we could find an anchorage and assess the damage. We found a spot to anchor near a marina and restaurant about 3 miles from the draw bridge.

Drying Laundry While Waiting

I could only think of 3 reasons why the mast would have “shrunk” like it did. 1) The mast step collapsed. 2) The chain plates or tangs that the shrouds attach to at the deck pulled up. 3) The hull was damaged and the keel and mast step that sits on top of it had moved down. Julie thought that the mast might have been collapsing in on itself, I didn’t think that this was possible.
I spent 5 minutes with my head in the bilge (crawlspace) studying the mast step (cup that the base of the mast sits in) and the surrounding fiberglass to see if the mast step had collapsed, but could not see a sign of damage. Option 1, the mast step collapsing had been ruled out.
Next I looked at where the chain plates attached to the fiberglass bulkheads (supporting walls) inside the boat and found no sign of movement or damage. Had the chain plates pulled up there would have been dents where the washers on the back had been for the last 30 years, but as far as I could tell they hadn’t move 1/16th of an inch let alone the 1 inch or so the shrouds had loosened. Option 2, the chain plates pulling up had also been ruled out.
After we ran aground, one of the first things I did immediately after the mast was tied in place was go below and look in the bilge to see if we were taking on water. The fact that there was no water leaking into the boat indicated that the hull was intact. Once we were at anchor, I donned my snorkel gear and dove in. Visibility was not very good here so I ran my hands over the bottom of the keel and over the entire area where the keel met the hull top to bottom several feet “looking” for a crack or some sign of damage, there was nothing. This ruled out Option 3, meaning there was nothing wrong.
OK, something was definitely wrong. but I had not figured it out. I looked around for other clues and saw the stainless steel cable that runs from the mast step to the mast collar, which is bolted to the bottom of the deck. I put my hand on it and it seemed to be just as tight as it was previously, I asked Julie to feel it and she agreed with my observation.
I realized that if the mast step had moved down causing the rigging to slacken this cable would be incredibly tight, trying to pull the cabin top down 1 inch. This meant the mast step had not moved at all, which was a very good thing.
But something had moved and the only thing that I could think of was that the last time the mast was stepped something was in between the mast and the bottom of the step keeping it up until we hit bottom so hard. I really couldn’t think of what could have held it up, a piece of wood, some misplaced bolt, I didn’t know. What I did know was that the previous owners had done a lot of goofy things and this was probably just one more.
We tightened the rig up, did some other maintenance on the boat, had dinner and went to bed.
We awoke the next morning and the weather forecast had changed to crappy, so we decided to rest up do some shopping and do some more work on the boat.
We were anchored off of Anna Maria Island which turns out has a free trolley, so we hopped on board and went about 3 miles up where there was a grocery store, a hardware store and the ever popular West Marine. We got everything we needed and headed back to the boat via the trolley.
Since we were anchored we did not have shore power to charge the batteries so about 2:00 I tried to start the Westerbeke generator to charge everything up. When I flipped the start switch all I heard was a click, not the sound of the starter motor. I tried a few more times and still no starter, only a click.
As a kid I used to help my dad work on the family cars and back in the 60’s and 70’s starters were not near as reliable as they are nowadays, so I got to learn a fair amount about starters.
The fact that there was a click meant that the solenoid that pushes the starter gear in and closes the contacts to provide the starter motor with the 70 or so amps of current that it needs was working. The next thing to do was to check the power wire coming into the solenoid, it was fine, the wire going out to the motor wiggled easily and I realized that the wire was completely gone, only the insulation was left.
It was easy enough to fix this problem, it only took an hour to get to the hardware store to get a soldering iron and some heavy wire and another hour to completely disassemble the starter and solder the new wire in place.
The next morning we decided to take the ICW up another 9 miles or so into Tampa Bay and exit thru a shipping channel so there was no chance of running aground again. We motored across the bay and raised the new headsail and the mainsail when we got far enough out into the channel . With about 10 knots of wind and 2 foot seas we reached along at about 6 knots admiring our pretty new sail.
About 10 minutes later I raised the staysail and got my camera to take a couple of pictures of our baby with her full suit of sails slicing thru the water.
When I was done I put the camera below and came up to find Julie asking “Why are the shrouds loose again?”. I told her to spin into the wind and start the engine but only go fast enough to keep the boat pointed into the wind. While she did this I dropped the staysail and rolled up the main and genoa (headsail) reduce the strain on the mast and rigging. We turned around and headed back towards the protected waters of Tampa Bay.

Our Beautiful New Sails