From NASCAR to NASA

From Palm Coast we made the short trip to Daytona Beach. The winds continued to blow so flags looked like they were starched, and the temperature still felt like we were north of the Mason-Dixon line. We stayed one night at Caribbean Jack’s, a restaurant and marina. The highlight of our stay in Daytona was cheeseburgers at Caribbean Jack’s.

Each evening we look at several weather websites for their forecasts. The consensus for our next travel day was 13 mph winds from the north. Our travels would take us through the Mosquito Lagoon. John looked forward to transiting the area again. While bringing our boat home from Miami two years ago, he raved about the clear waters with large fish, turtles, dolphins and manatees.

We pulled away from the dock in Daytona Beach on Friday morning at 0900. Winds blew 12 knots, as expected. As the day progressed, the winds grew. By the time we reached Mosquito Lagoon the winds had strengthened to 28 knots. The waters were quite choppy. While the views were still beautiful, we saw no fish. Turning into the Haulover Canal and passing under the bridge were real sport in all the wind and current. John handled the boat like it was no big deal. I’m glad I did not have to be at the helm!

We arrived in Titusville at 1500. Winds were still 28-30 knots from the north. We had heard several people on the radio who were docking at the Titusville Municipal Marina. Listening to their challenges helped us decide to throw out our anchor instead. Anchoring was uneventful and soon we were settled in place. The Titusville anchorage is just outside the marina with a lovely view of the space shuttle assembly building in the distance. The only unfortunate part was that the anchorage is not protected in any direction, especially not from north or east winds. Consequently, the boat surfed in two to three foot waves. Typically, we let out seven feet of anchor rode (chain) for every foot of water depth. We were in seven feet of water. Under normal circumstances we would let out about 50 feet of rode. That day we let out 100 feet, because the winds and waves were so strong. We wanted to give the anchor every chance to hold and not drag along the bottom.

With the anchor in place, I reclined in the cockpit like Cleopatra on her royal barge and enjoyed a glass of pinot noir while watching the sunset. Pink, orange, and red filled the clouds. With dishes washed and put away after a delicious dinner of a steak and vegetable stir-fry, we settled in to read. Suddenly, we heard a TTHHHWUMMPP at the bow. We rushed up the companion way to see what hit us, thinking another boat came too close. It turned out to be a manatee – perhaps a manatee with a headache. My thoughts went to the mangled front end of our corvette years ago after we hit a deer. I checked the bilge to ensure we were not taking on water. Island Packet (our boat brand) makes a very strong hull. The boat seemed fine.

That night, I slept like a baby – a hungry, colicky baby. John got up about every two hours to make sure the anchor was holding. It held like it was welded to the bottom.

The next morning, the winds still howled at over 20 knots. We decided to swing on the anchor that day and depart for Melbourne on Sunday. We scoured the inside of the boat and caught up on communications with family members.

On Sunday morning, we started the engine at 0800. I took the helm and John went forward to wash the anchor and rode as it emerged from the water. I was concerned that the anchor would be dug in so strongly that we would have trouble extricating it. My job is to move the boat while pressing a button in the cockpit that causes the windlass to bring up the anchor. John tells me which direction to move the bow so the anchor comes straight up. And, he uses the hose on the bow to wash the mud off the chain as it leaves the water. Well, that’s what normally happens. On that day, the windlass went on strike. Thank goodness we have redundant systems. John Rahm, human windlass was on the job. As he pulled up the first twenty feet of heavy chain, I could hear him muttering about 50 feet being enough and what made him think we needed 100 feet out. It wasn’t long before I heard him say, “Okay, the anchor is free, drive on” and the 60-pound CQR anchor became visible over the water. Frankly, I thought the whole process went much

It's Not What Happens to You, It's How You Handle It - Or, Sh_t Happens

For those of you who think cruising is full of idyllic romance, rainbows without rain, sunshine, and butterflies this blog entry is for you. The day had been perfect. We awakened at 0530, enjoyed coffee in bed and a leisurely start. We prepared the boat for departure from St Augustine in the usual way. We unplugged the shore power cord and set the lines so I could retrieve them from the boat as we pulled away. After completing the pre-castoff checklist, we departed on time at 0645. The boat practically sailed itself away from the dock and into the channel at Camachee Cove Marina. We arrived at the Bridge of Lions by 0717, in time to see a brilliant sunrise through the clouds, and motored through the bridge during the 0730 opening. We were on our way to Palm Coast. Along the way, the temperature was a balmy 40 degrees and the sun shined brightly. We saw a bald eagle couple perched together in a leafless tree along the AICW. Numerous dolphins swam up to greet us and escort us along the waterway.

We arrived at Palm Coast Marina about 4.5 hours later. Winds were 15 knots from the north. John skillfully turned the boat around in a narrow canal and backed it down the canal 100 yards in front of a low bridge in order to dock for fuel and pumping out. John executed the maneuvers so well and landed so gently at the dock that the seasoned dockmaster gave him a “nicely done”. We added 23 gallons of diesel fuel to our tanks. Then it was time to pump out the holding tank.

The holding tank is a 60-gallon tank in the boat for holding what gets flushed down the heads. Marinas have pumps and hoses that suck the waste out of the boat. Today, our holding tank was 55-gallons full. I did not read the cruising guide closely enough and failed to notice that Old Faithful erupts at the marina pump out station on certain days at about noon. As John held the suction hose over the pump out fitting things were going smoothly. Suddenly, the pump seemed to stop. The dockmaster suggested that John break the seal and reseat the suction fitting. When John broke the seal, the Old Faithful geyser of holding tank contents erupted from the pump out fitting catching John in the chest, with collateral damage around his face, legs, hat, and shoes, in addition to splattering the side of the boat. It was one of the nastier things I’ve seen in my adult life. I am pleased with myself, because I did not laugh, nor did I say “sh_t happens”. The contents of our holding tank were two weeks old. You can imagine the stench. John showed considerable restraint. I did hear a few very technical pump-out words. All in all he showed great strength of character.

Despite the events at the pump out station, we still needed to move the boat into our slip at the marina. Winds were howling. Currents were swift. I worked hard moving around the boat to stay upwind of John. In our next skillful maneuver, John backed us into our slip. My job was to catch the first piling in the slip and walk the line up to the bow. I caught the piling, and as I gently pulled the line taught it slipped right off of the top. It reminded me of the scene in the movie Tin Cup when Kevin Costner hits the golf ball over 200 yards over a lake and onto the green, only to have the ball roll off of the green and into the lake. So, we ended up a little bit too far over onto the other side of the slip. That’s why they call those things “rub rails”, right?

We finished securing the lines and fenders. Then, John peeled off his clothes and jumped into the shower. I bagged his clothes, hat, and shoes, along with the Cheer, Clorox, Spray and Wash, and a roll of quarters, and headed to the laundry room. Two hot washings later, his clothes, hat, and shoes were like new.

If I were coaching clients who had this kind of day, I would ask them what the gift was in this event that they perceived as bad. I'm thinking of something like the gift of perserverance that develops our maturity and humility. For me, the gift is that I used to think John’s boat shoes were smelly. Now I hardly notice them.