Sunrise N of Elliott Key
I awoke to the familiar sounds of mosquitoes buzzing my head. Yep, the breeze had eased a bit and a few hearty mosquitoes had actually made it the three to five miles from land… all the way out here just to bite me! And for those of you who really know me… yes, I’m still mosquito bait so others don’t get bit! So at 4 am I’m curling-up in the cockpit again. Outside where the breeze is strong enough to blow the bugs off me. And that is where I was when Phil awoke about dawn. Raisin Bran and fresh milk gone, we started in on the frosted mini-wheats and boxed milk. When I pulled the orange juice out of the “ice”box, it was almost empty. We hadn’t even opened it! But the heat from running the engine had been enough to start fermentation. Sur enough, it had exploded along the seams and flooded into the bilge. As I mentioned this to Phil, a big smile grew across his face. “Mystery solved!” he exclaimed. “That wasn’t’ three gallons of diesel in the bilge yesterday. It was half a gallon of OJ, two gallons of melted ice and quart of diesel!”
The clouds never lifted for a sunrise, so soon we were cleaning-up a bit (amazing how much gets left “handy” when we’re underway and too tired to care). Phil was putting some spare parts into storage below the settee, when he looked up and saw a tug boat bringing a large barge through the ICW. In a flash, Phil was on the VHF checking-out the ICW depth. Sure enough, according to the captain of Boca Chica the main channel was reported at 7’ But he cautioned us that the ICW is a lot shallower further south. We thanked him for the warning and explained that we had already done our homework from Card Bank south to Tarpon Basin.
Since Spun Key has no depth finder, let me explain how we had such valuable info (which no one else seemed to). Although I had wanted to purchase a depth finder in March (to use as a fish finder), Phil kept reminding me that with clear water and only 8 feet of depth I really didn’t need one down here in the Everglades. I’m sure Phil regretted his having talked me out of it now that we were buying this deep draft sailboat. But we did the next best thing. We tied a big lead fishing weight (a one pound ball) onto a little rope and used it as a plumb line. One Sunday in late June, we checked the tide charts and ran the entire path from Tarpon Basin to Card Sound Bank at low tide. Which isn’t easy since there is almost a two hour delay in tides as they work their way through each body of water. Tarpon Basin being a full six hours later than the Ocean. But we were glad we did it as there are three places where the ICW was definitely less than seven feet. Safely packed inside our outdated paper chart Ziploc were those notes. Written on Gold Bond paper (and we treated those pages just like gold – knowing they were the secret password for getting home).
Thankful that Boca Chica’s report would save us reliving those umpteen tosses of the lead weight, we weighed anchor and motored into the ICW’s cut through Featherbed Bank. But once again we had only 4-10” of clearance under our keel. And no way of knowing which given our depth finder’s quirkiness. By now we have Saturday morning traffic zipping through the cut, unaware that their wake alone could lift and drop our 6,000 pounds of lead (and 16,000 pounds of boat) into the coral bank! This time we didn’t even try the VHF.
Phil stayed at the helm while I played desperate blond charades. Crossing my arms in an X didn’t work. Doing the “throat slice” maneuver (for cut your engine) was also no good either. But giving them the “thumbs down” definitely drew their attention! Who was I to critique them? And so they slowed and I was able to yell over our explanation about why they should slow down.
Now I can’t really say the passage through Featherbed Bank was really all that stressful, but we sure didn’t feel like going any further. Maybe it was the accumulated lack of sleep. Maybe it was Phil’s nostalgia to revisit Elliott Key (a place he has previously sailed to from Tarpon Basin in the old Cal 28). But I think it was mainly our longing to finally savor some of the “cruising life” (instead of the passage, delivery driver’s drudge). And so, we motored over towards the Marina Cove for some R&R.
Noon Anchor east of Marina @ Elliott Key
As you may know, Elliott Key on a Saturday is the “sandbar” or “party cove” of Miami. And even though we only had a couple hours of sun during the day, weather was not important to the yachts and partiers that frequent the island. I counted more than 50 boats scattered along the northwest side of the island. Some had three dinghies tied astern and some had none. We anchored farther from shore than anyone. Although we could say it was due to the deep draft, we mainly just wanted quiet.
Just before sunset, Phil and I took Spun Key into the marina. Since August is the hottest month, there were only three boats in the campground marina. The biggest was booming a Cuban Karaoke for the 10 adults dancing, clapping, singing and smooching along the dock. Their kids seemed equally absorbed in a water volleyball game out in the swimming area. Phil and I were just looking at the nature center and preparing to hike a bit of the island, when I started to get the mosquito buzz. Just like Key Largo, the sunset seems to be the trumpeter charge for mosquitoes. And that’s when we realized our mistake… the bug repellants was still on Our Tern! As we walked back the boat as directly as possible, I managed to kill at least a dozen of the mosquito warriors. A number I was proud of given we were all moving targets. But back on the boat, when I applied the liquid Benadryl I counted far more bites on me. Phil spent sunset taping nylon window screen over the hatches and companionway while I cooked Chicken ala Chez (aka canned chicken and boxed mac n cheese)! We dined inside, listening to the music of the mosquitoes swarming at our window screens and watched the pink neon Miami sunset. Tired and content, we headed to bed.
But when we turned on the lights in the v-berth, the mosquitoes were thick! We spent the first 30 minutes at war. Although they clearly had us out numbered, cutting off their supply line had been the turning point to our victory. And so, with just a rogue buzz here and there, we pulled the sheet over us, tucked the sides tightly under us, and prepared to defend our face as needed. It wasn’t pretty, but sleep did come.
Sunday, Aug 10, 2008
Sunrise Anchor @ Elliott Key Marina
This time it was not the buzzing of mosquitoes that woke me, but the itching from their bites. As I reached for my Benadryl liquid, I noticed the winds were steady outside the cabin. The buzzing swarm had left. I took down the window screen and threw myself into the wind of the cockpit. So as the sun rose over Miami, I enjoyed another hot water shower in the cockpit having now learned to ignore that sulfur smell that reminds me hot springs and spas.
As Phil and I ate our mini-wheats, we noticed the sun was short lived. Everywhere low rain clouds were building. It was time to go home. Time to see if those lead weight readings we took were good or if all those shallow ICW warnings we true. Phil punched the Card Bank location into the GPS and discovered high tide was only a few hours away. We fired-up the Universal 24 and off we went - in search of the ICW narrows near Caesar’s Creek.
About 60 minutes into our voyage, we spied the markers listed on the paper chart. We veered east to be sure we took the center of the ICW near Caesar’s Creek passage out to the Atlantic. Just like the map showed, there were two markers in line, then a sharp turn to the west. But as we approached, we struck ground. And after a couple more quick taps, we were halted there. Although we had expected it to happen at some point, this sure didn’t seem like the time and place. We had run a ground near a pass said to be almost 10 feet deep. Even if it was low tide, the half moon wouldn’t give us that much shift of tide. And this sure didn’t seem like a place for silt to pile-up. I walked out to the bow-sprit and sat as far forward as possible. Phil gunned the engine and we slowly backed out. We almost ran over Spun Key in the process, but we were free and moving again. Phil backed us out to the mail channel again as we both scratched our heads in disbelief and dread. Anchoring here and running depth checks in Spun Key on a rainy day was not something we looked forward to. But you do what you have to do.
As we looked around for a place to anchor, I noticed a boat speeding south off to the west of us. And then I saw another, headed north along the same path. And as I started to tell Phil, he points to the GPS and says “Oh, Man! Next time things get strange; remind me to check all our electronics!” Sure enough, the GPS showed us about a mile short of Caesar’s Creek. A quick cross check with the paper charts confirmed our suspicions…we had been fooled by decoys. We had found a set of markers that were not even on the charts! They had been added to mark a sharp bend in the entrance of the channel leading into Caesar’s Creek. Although a bit humbling, we were both happy with the results. In the school of hard knocks, we had gotten off easy again!
The rest of the trip south was pretty routine. We were motoring along at four knots while a big rainstorm followed us and built into a thunderstorm. About half the time we were ahead of it and in the sun. The other half it was nipping at our heels and rainy on us. I must have covered and uncovered Cuka six times that day. Each time we came to a passage (through narrows or under a bridge), boats coming north would slow way down, stare long and hard look at the rainstorm behind us, and take a vote. Should risk the weather or turn back. Most did turn back. But the two that did head north took enough time to zip the isinglass or break out the rain gear before punching their throttle for full speed (trying to cover as much distance as possible before they were sucked into the cool wind as the disappeared into the big grey rain clouds).