:

Glad to leave the marina with my new engine. Jay who runs the pilot boat, the boat that takes Pilots in and out…off and on cruise ships, at the sea buoy, accompanied me over to the mooring field at Garrison Bight…Those guys, around the various ports, who run these boats…really know how to handle a boat…Coming up on a 600 ft cruise ship, a skyscraper, running slow ahead to let a pilot off or on with his briefcase, climbing a Jacobs ladder, is pretty hairy boat handling, particularly coming down the ladder outbound, especially the last few steps, syncopated timing required on the wheel and clutches is not something to take for granted. Good boat handling must be routine not to shorten a pilots career.

Mark told me to run the engine at various speeds to break in the rings…most economical speed seems to be 2200 RPM’s where she was doing almost 6 knots. Had her up to about 2400 when she started to squat…I checked the bilges and they were filled with water. Jay brought her down or the main cabin would have been a swimming pool, water coming in the old exhaust thru hull.

Trying to find a couple of recreational sailors with passports in Key West proved difficult…Some of the good sailors don’t sober up until about 1 PM if ever, and think that a passport is some bar they were in last week…Key West being 4 miles by 2 with 66 bars is notoriously and historically permissive in this area. I had adverts posted all over town but the results were zero….I was slightly disappointed when The Swedish bikini team didn’t call; but, I guess they were tied up, no doubt, doing a Victoria Secret Shoot.

So strumming my six string on a windless Sunday at sunset watching the wheel free turn gently, on 2 foot seas, I only faintly remembered my brains being kicked out for five days last year single handing WorldWind, finding out the hard way, that my auto pilot didn’t work on a heading to Panama ; Nevertheless, pain fades, in the light of a new brilliant idea. After all, wasn't I a boat designer, my job finding solutions, this logic bolstered with having been a professional wheel man at one time, from dinghies to 700 ft ships, faintly recalling that rarely had I needed to turn a ships wheel more than an eight of a turn to keep her on, once I had her on course.. It just might work, I’m sure it will work.

I had some small stuff tied to one side of the split backstay and another on the other side both coming to a point wrapped around the king spoke at rudder amidships, separating again in another neat looking triangle. Each respective end crisply tied off on the support rail in front of the wheel base… That’s it, tear down the adverts, the sailing board now set for Mexico. I was delayed a couple of weeks.. high winds.. rain squalls.. gusts sometimes over 45mph, day after day. I patiently sat on the hook waiting for this massive low pressure area to pass. I looked at the brightside though, The constant form of blustery energy, kept my wind generator continuously chugging and churning. My size 4D twin AGM batteries were well charged, providing ample power to my inverter keeping my refrigeration consistingly cold without aid of my generator, that task, a heavy haul out from the hold.

Even before fetching the sea buoy the seas were running six feet…Unusual I thought at first.. So close in ? It was a beautiful morning. Well got to remember I guess, Key West is an Island, out on the high seas, that would account for it. I couldn’t wait to put my self styled steering system into operation.. Trying to deal with the buffeting turbulence, watching out for the sport fisherman, their powerfull multi engines hooked up, their wakes adding to typical channel confusion on a nice day, I couldn’t get the damn system to work. I blamed it on my lack of focus, on the task at hand, and swore I’d get it to work a little further out. So I steamed out, hand lightly on the wheel. About five miles southwest of the sea buoy, on a course of 235, on a, rhrumb line to Mexico, things began to settle out. The summer sun was climbing high, thin scattered fair weather clouds sustained promise of a great day after so much constant and continuous bad weather. I was en route at last. Seas had turned from green to blue. Vessel riding easy in a calm summer day’s rhythm at sea… ….Damn it, I got it to work…The wind and seas were at my back seas running maybe 2 feet. She seems to hold true between 227 and 240..I would have been taken off the wheel immediately on a ship for that atrocious helmansship but for my purposes that was just fine…Wow this is great.. remembering the words Red Johnson spit out with certainty and conviction, when he looked around and asked me where’s your crew.. Don’t have one Red.. well damn, your own company at sea is all you need.

I had it going good, I didn’t want to come up wind and disassemble four ropes that I had concocted to tweak the system.. so I brought the engine down to dead slow ahead.. I heeded Larry’s wisdom last year .. Tuck two reefs in the main.. single handed.. Admittedly, I made 7.5 knots to Key West full and by in force 6..but the quid pro quo… it paid the month’s rent off in John Smiddle's sail loft, mending my sails, thanks to my aggressive seamanship. Then I had a crew of two, who signed off quickly with no sails and a bad engine.

I figured I could get away with a down wind set on the main, besides the vessel is labor intensive. Gear can get a bit heavy on a 40 footer. I’d would have had to disassemble my jury rigged currently functioning steering system…now starting to crudely resemble a history channel mechanical marvel. Out on deck almost five hours, It didn’t seem like I did much; but, the heat and the events made me a bit tired. Just a half hour’s rest would be nice. The main sail came up. I had four turns around the winch. The Lewmar #40 winch, the round turns, laboring the last several feet. The designer had the specs right but apparently he forgot to add in the frictional resistance of the fairlead block for the aft halyard lead, also the cleats too small accommodating the five eights inch tail line. It takes too much time to secure…“Whatever the case, I’ll just deal with it“. The high clew Yankee rolled off the Harken furler easily enough. She’s holding an acceptable course. My log says engine stopped at 12:30 PM, I was underway 5 hours. She wasn’t making much speed barely 3 knots. I figured though wind would pick up, be patient. I went down and got the staysail that clews on to a club foot with a self tailing traveller arrangement with one long sheet…There wasn’t enough lift in the sail to raise the blocks off the deck in these light conditions…so I jury rigged a short sheet, tied it off the rail doing the best I can to give her some air on a starboard tack.

It’s a difficult boat to get around in…I took the dinghy off it’s chocks a few days before and put it aft on these questionable davits. It seems like I jumped through a couple of hoops tripping my way to the traveller and main sheet. The traveller a difficult configuration. It takes time just to figure which rope to pull.. I’m not going into the blame game; but, it’s haphazard. The preventer set in order to deter an accidental jibe. She was on her way doing 4 knots. I figured I did my job, now let her take it from here.

I envy these modern boats…They are not built very well but I drool at the design work geared for cruising. Many earlier edition shortcomings, like Worldwind’s corrected . Mine doesn’t have any designed sun covering…Down below it was a boiler room and the sun beating down on deck, would make your eyebrows crawl…A couple of misguided friends, who read too many boating magazines, thought I was a fool, but I learned this seaman’s trick while in China, Use an umbrella. So I broke out my designer golf umbrella.. with colors, hunter green and white matching ship’s colors…I grabbed a cold uncooked hot dog, a piece of sourdough bread and a Pepsi.. The cockpit is a torture pit on this boat. It has it’s merits though, which I won’t go into. Suffice it to say she is ergo metrically challenged. So I laid a cockpit cushion across the transom between the lazarette and the propane locker with a pillow propped against the only vertical support, the wind vane stanchion.. Need to conserve energy. She was still holding course.. but more and more she was easing left. The head sails on the point of luff.. I new she’d jibe at 210, so I tightened up on my starboard rig wire to eliminate some left rudder…Now I’m starting to get into the devils work shop.. because things became more complicated…She now started to take on more right rudder…and drifting up to 270..unacceptable..I didn’t want to bear too far north off a 235 especially since she was averaging a 240..The point is I wasn’t getting any rest.. Constant energy draining attention. The line on the port running backstay was loose…The bite from the block jam cleat wasn’t holding her tight.. Probably needed lubrication…getting frustrated, I’ll jam it all right.. so I jammed it with my foot.. The only thing accomplished was I hurt my foot… I was down to arduous, brain numbing haphazard sailing mode… impatiently tying a granny around the combing rail. Had to get back to the wheel quickly…She was running high again…running on 290..the sails were hardening on a close reach.. beautiful sailing but the wrong direction…As the wind increased things became more and more difficult…Short on patience, she kept coming right toward the wind, I couldn’t counter with left rudder because I had to take my rig from hell adjustments apart…..Just as I got her back on course the wind died…I looked at my watch it was 5:30.. 1730 hrs…non stop since 6:30 AM I decided to take the headsails down reefed in on the furler.. The staysail isn’t that big…just let her go; thankfully, she came down quickly on a down wind takedown…I checked my position, it was 17:50 when I started engines…..I figured now with headsails down.. maybe I could stabilize the helm within reason. The best that I could do was a 270..I checked my GPS plotted my position…I was on the rhrumb line…Fudging a bit in order to remain optimistic., I quickly credited myself with 35 miles, course made good…Between everything I was tired, I put in an honest day’s work…with no possible relief in sight.. I had the engine on about an hour to charge batteries….The wind picked up conveniently allowing me cut the engine at 18:50 now sailing on the main alone

I was in the shipping lanes…most of the vessels…were probably running from Miami and Houston.. knew the drill well.. Been on the run many times.. It gave me a feeling of nostalgia of life gone past, wondering if they picked me up on radar, probably not, maybe a visual always worth more than a passing glance…It was after 7 PM 1900 hrs or more.. I looked at the skies…it was like the Indians circling the wagons, waiting for the kill.. We weren’t in for scattered showers but a full squall. I got everything loose off deck,. grabbed my foul weather jacket, closed the hatches.. At least the heat had dissipated. I grabbed a piece of cheese .and a orange soda.. I wasn’t hungry, a bad sign, not much fuel in my system for energy. This of course adds to the fatigue..

The Dink

The sky closing in on me, blacker and blacker…I saw this ship bearing down on me. I estimated distance maybe 8 miles. .I smiled, many times in this position professionally a crossing situation, Irrespective, that I was under sail and had right of way, I was crossing his starboard side and had the right of way if an imagined equal.. The wind started to whip up real good. The vessel bobbing back and forth....The ship curiously coming at me…I laughed.. He could do what ever he wanted. Take me on the right or left.. He’d probably come right but I was all over the place.. I was bracing on getting hammered…I looked at the dink in it’s fragile precarious perch.. and said you are on your own, but I’ll do my best…The rain came in so hard it was like drill bits against my exposed parts…The storm was coming directly out of the north…The wind gusts were running well over 40 kts maybe higher ..the seas 10 to 12 feet.. The vessel climbing high with seas off the stbd bow…My spirit was elevated probably by adrenalin.. It was the cathedral experience that Joseph Campbell talks about…The seas brought me to a higher plane…The vessel’s stern would come down though and slam…ropes are no match mating with sea…I had one goal, protect the dink…If I kept her on a 330...that’s where she wanted to go anyway.. The stern slam was more diagonal and less horizontal on the wave…the dink bow was higher on the slam… my spirit cheered by holding our own, It was depressing though to think I was sailing 90 degrees off course…With a crack crew, sheets easing , I would have been able to make at the least a course of 250 on the same stbd tack…and thought about my racing days… opportunistically making speed and distance surfing down hill on favorable wind and seas. But I neither had the energy, everything was haphazard …jury rigged lines everyway and I was completely in a defensive mode…My mind not remembering, at this point, not focused, what line I rigged to go where. I needed to focus on task at hand…If you don’t, things can get even worse…threatening the vessel and life.. Sometimes it takes a lot for me to wake up. An inner voice protect the dink…forget about course made good…keep it simple…stay with the 330..Wow look at the rainbow to the northeast the broadest bands of color I ever seen…The rainbow seemed to be moving north rapidly and I knew it would be over shortly As the wind and sea eased off, quickly I noticed dead ahead not more than a half a mile, the ship that was coming at me…was steaming dead slow and shortly after, mesmerizing me it seemed, I was staring at her port profile, not more than a few hundred yards from me stopped, I couldn’t quite comprehend the situation. She was sleek gray sailing in ballast with bright red bottom paint,. probably European I thought.. Her name in bright letters broadside, easily readable, but I couldn’t take her in…I was exhausted.. the wind had put lines everywhere…My vessel was now all over the place as I was trying to bring her around back on course. 235.. I looked at the baggy reefs, nothing I could do to make her look smart. The center support rope on the dink that held her high had drooped, and she had come down about 6 critical inches…The ship came around, her bow now pointing at my stern maybe a 100 yards or so…Nice seamanship I thought. Crew started to come forward…I was embarrassed, probably the chief mate and the watch…I felt bad…I was OK my vessel was OK.. but it was an expensive proposition for the ship. He had to come down from sea speed to maneuvering speed and bring her revs down to half ahead, slow, dead slow, .probably bridge control mode…not a routine procedure for a ship of this size. The captain sure knew how to handle a ship.. The crew was yelling to me, I couldn’t comprehend, probably, I guess, it sounded like, “are you all right“…I was to weak to answer at this point…Yes I’m OK…and under my breath.. ”If I figure out where I’m going“…For some reason, the Bee Gee’s song entered my mind…I saw John Travolta discoing to “I’m Going Nowhere“…Then I did the thing that I was most proud of It was the right thing to do. I signaled to this fine captain that I was OK.. I literally crawled out of the cockpit, over that damn bridge deck, stumbled below, and turned my running lights on. Just by mere coincidence it was the exact right time, and knew the Captain would take it as a signal everything Ok. Next thing I knew the ship faded as quickly as she came upon me.. It was now dark, no moon, no light.. I was back steering manual of course, by compass, the self styled steering rig, low on my priority list...My eyes were closing…How the devil am I going to stay awake.. The only thing I could figure out, she wanted to come right to a 330 closer to the wind…If I closed my eyes I could use a bit of left rudder .Maybe I could buy just 5 minutes rest doing this. She would luff at 210 and only slam thanks to the preventer from an unwanted jibe to wake me up.. This wouldn’t do damage but it would wake me…This went on for about a half hour I guess…No light, but the leach on the main was skewed dimly seen contrasting with the sails background.…The port running backstay and the early granny knot came undone…The stay lightly rapped around…With great effort I fixed a simple task…I went back to my routine…Every time the prevent jibe slammed I woke up but effectively running near to course.. I couldn’t see a hand in front of me.. too difficult to estimate the height of the sea down wind, but when the fitting went on the preventer and she jibed, I knew instantly, alone and exhausted, I was in a dangerous situation…The preventer is a single handed absolute necessity…Thankfully the preventer blocks and jam cleat Ok.. For some strange reason, there was a cheap plastic fitting put on as an afterthought on the mid boom.… Gratefully relieved, I moved it aft to a ring bale that secured part of the main sheet where I had employed it in the past… Secured, I figured I dodged a bullet. I couldn’t continue the way I was going, so I garnered up my fading energies to focus on my half assed jury rigged wheel system as best I could and went below…I was buoyed by the idea she was holding, or appeared to be. I brought my pillow on deck and figured I could rest my head against the hatch…I was soaked through and getting cold and losing body heat fast…and started to shiver…Slow thinking at this point, the seas began to get rougher.. so I thought…Actually what was happening, was the fact that she didn’t hold course she was back sailing on her own a course of 330 and she was taking the seas off the stbd bow.. How long I was fooling myself on a 330 I don’t know…At this point, I needed to tie my shoe but I just couldn’t do it…I was now down below being pounded like a rag doll…I have no idea what time it was having taken my watch off earlier, but had to go back on deck. I couldn’t sail on a 330...and I knew I couldn’t maintain a 240..I was exhausted…Mercifully I let the halyard fly, grabbed the luff that I think was holding me up and pulled.. The main came down.. She was all over the deck but with the 2 reefs even without aid of any bungies or a restraint, she was secure on deck.. I knew that I did the best I could, at least I stopped the bleeding…i.e. in sailing off like hell 90 degrees in the wrong direction…I had to get out of the wet clothes.. My mind was confused I had to tie my shoe.. No take your shoe off.. It will make it easier to take your clothes off.. I was being buffeted below again like Molly the rag doll in a child’s hand. The vessel although stopped, doesn’t come into the wind, it’s broadside the seas slamming midship.. I was looking for something to hold on to…being buffeted around in this seagoing cocktail shaker. I became violently sick…retching whatever liquids were in my system…I hit the deck losing non existing balance on the verge of passing out.…I was at least happy I did something right…everything below well secured. .Lying on the deck made it easier to get out of my wet clothes…When everything was off.. I got up…got a towel…dried myself…felt better. It was not that I was so wet. It was the cold wet clothes against my body. I turned the aft cabin light on between violent retches. I put on a fresh shirt, underwear, sweat shirt and some shorts, my foul weather jacket and topsiders .All with great physical and mental effort…I went back on deck…realizing my shoe needed to be tied…but I had another problem…My pants were to big…they were falling off.. I remember thinking too bad you get one shot at it.. so live with it…At this point whenever I began to think, I would begin to retch. Had no drogue or sea anchor on board, which might have brought my stern around. I turned the GPS back on…I didn’t have to look at the chart, just at the longitude minutes…1 since 1700. Didn’t even want to consider latitude after all I was sailing toward the north poll, for how long I don’t know, instead of to the southwest for an indeterminable amount of time, not even knowing what time it was Ironically between retching my guts out , sitting uselessly on deck trying to figure what to do next, I was inspired by a stroke of genius. Why don’t you work at tying your shoe. When you are running on all cylinders, the genius never quite stops. Get one of those ropes, or whatever you call it, and tie it around your pants like a belt. Getting hit hard by the seas, but fairly secured, I have no idea the measure of time, but my body just couldn’t cash any more checks. I had reserved a 12 inch rubber securing strap with hooks that fit quite nicely in the bulkhead slats. Gratefully, as I retched nothing came up, as I laid in my bunk, what was there was long gone. Without the strap, I would have been flung out on the port side roll… so I held on. As I dosed off, I would begin to lose my grip, and after one jerk, almost unconsciously rewrapped my hand just in time. That wasn’t going to work . Another brilliant idea, they seem to never stop. Take the bloody rope you tied around your pants, and tie it to the strap, this way you can keep your pants on secure yourself to the bunk and rest. The next thing I became aware of, there was light coming in the aft cabin hatch, early light, the seas haven’t woken up from early light. It was manageably peaceful, I wanted to lay there, but that was impossible. Just a minor reprieve. It was six am. In thirteen hours, course made good was negative. This didn’t have to be. My old ship mates would have laughed at me. With the amount of disposable wind, with crew, a working auto pilot, sixty or more miles could have been expected. That’s the way the vessel should have been sailed. There’s a statement half measures will avail you nothing.. but there’s another statement, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I entertained the idea of pressing on. “Boy isn’t this fun…a learning curve.”. the rig was together, I was together and the dinghy holding on. “barely” That rational relegated to BS. I just didn’t want to face failure. I was spinning the facts. Look I was only 35 miles on a reciprocal course from Key West. While still not really wanting to acknowledge failure, realizing I was out of high cards, I remembered sailing on the Almeira Lykes, a 990 ft ship, when we went effortlessly sailed five thousand miles non stop, with chocolates on our pillow, when our beds were made by the BR…It’s supposed to be fun, not an endurance course, or something to prove. It can be done efficiently go back to the drawing board. Head for Key West.

All I had to do was look at my nearest way point. It was 37 miles away, the Key West sea buoy. Course read 61 degrees. I fired up the new Yanmar with !5 hours on it. The seas coming out of the East were ten feet, the wind 15 to 20 with gusts. Great conditions for where I would have intended to go, which cut deeper at my failure, but the dink couldn’t make it, the vessel could, and I’m an idiot, but a lucky one

As the day wore on, maybe six or seven hours on the wheel , I was being lulled to sleep,. fading fast, half my self styled self steering system was still holding up my pants. Well it wouldn’t work anyway might as well be useful. Taking it on the nose the dink was just clearing the water on the stern slam. After eight hours of this, I began to hallucinate. I hadn’t eaten or drank a thing all day. I was reluctant to leave the wheel, but wasn’t hungry or thirsty either, just acting automatically. Yeah I’m the auto pilot no brains…. Blessings sometimes come disguised. We were going to get hit by rain hard. I saw it coming, but knew it would be nothing like the evening before. I tied the wheel down with the pants partner‘s other useless half, that was lazily lying tied to the port backstay. I grabbed my foul weather jacket, a can of ginger ale and closed the main hatch. The vessel while I was below had come around to 120 degrees ,60 degrees off course. A quick check revealed that after almost 8 hours, I had done less than 20 miles. I was doing less than three miles made good per hour. Just then I got hammered again by the rain. I was cold and soaked but it woke me up. What happens sometimes is that the rain comes down so hard it dampens the seas. It stopped and I was cold. To late to put foul weather pants on, that would have prevented this rain soaked intrusion. It cleared and I began to shiver, but at least awake…knowing what was just ahead was going to hit us again shortly, I drank the ginger ale, but was not retching, I had to pee, we were hammered again by rain. There is an expression “Love is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it but only you can feel the warmth…I laughed…maybe it would warm me up. I was just grateful that my kidneys hadn’t shut down, that I could pee. While the seas were dampered from this torrent of fresh water, I went below, got out of the rain, told the boat and dinghy take care, changed my clothes now with my foul weather pants and returned with a renewed sense of optimism. I wasn’t unduly fatigued and after thirteen hours saw the outline of Key West and some tower with a light. I had no idea what it was, not having any data at my fingertips. Again the haphazard nature of things…Here I once got paid as a highly trained senior level professional, yet navigationally no idea exactly where I was, but instinctively, knew I was closing in. It wasn’t the sea buoy. I stumbled down the hatch, got the chart and noticed there was another channel. The southwest channel. That made sense. I was weary staring at this protrusion on the horizon for over two and a half hours, trying to fetch Sand Key Light. She never seemed to get closer. I feared negative way with my new 56 HP engine at 2200 RPM’s. I was the only madman out there. The Coast Guard Cutter checked me out, giving me the look through from all directions. Earlier a jet came in low and fast, a sense of pride, boarder security on the ball. I thought about the jet. What was taking me 13 hours, would have taken him less then 10 seconds… I laughed…How many times have I heard…“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey“.

Once abeam of Sand Key light the water turned from blue to green, following a course of 056 degrees the engine started to make way. I turned to the dink…Looks like we made it.

I turned left at buoy # 13 joining the main channel. I spied dimly in the faded light, U.S. Southernmost Point, optically picked up the red and green channel lights, up and in. It didn’t take me long to make a decision where to drop the hook, which later I came to regret, some great blues was coming in from the Ocean Reef Club across the channel. "Life",The sounds to my senses were excitably heightened . I was alive and well, vessel secure, on the hook, engine stopped 2200… and the dinghy, close only matters in horseshoes… rubber rail gone, otherwise ok.

Yesterday I put my 8 hp Johnson on the dink, along with my bike, made it to shore to face my friends in failure, I guess. “Thought you were sailing to Mexico.“ …I didn’t make it, my auto pilot didn’t work. It’s pretty useful if you are going to go anywhere single handed you know. I can tell you that from experience. I came in to see about getting it fixed.

Dedicated to Bernie Stackhouse: First Engineer on the Norris and Rip Tide.. Ole Stack,, while alive, walked and talked like Mr. Bo Jangles…Tall and slender from New Iberia LA… a kind and gentle smile…Stack, with a slow rhythmic walk would say …Tom tell me a sea story.. I would reply Stack don’t got no sea stories… Then tell me about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers…When are they going to win a game…and we’d laugh.

Here’s your sea story Stack…That’s what I did last weekend.. LOL

PS.. I’m deeply touched by the Captain and Crew. who stopped to check on my well being.. In order to render possible assistance to a fellow seaman. That’s what separates, in my mind, the best from the good…In some log book entry written in red…“Stopped to render assistance for a vessel in possible or apparent distress due to violent and deteriorating weather conditions.“. The ship’s log is answerable to the company Port Captain, and maritime authorities… I regret not having the presence of mind to remember the name of this fine vessel….only that it began with the letter S.. My functioning radio, unreachable, uselessly resting down below as well.

Godspeed
Goodsailing

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