Weather forecast for March 23, 2019:
Key West, Florida
Low 70 high 81
South winds, 10 to 12 kts
Captain’s Log: March 18, 2019 thru March 22, 2019
Monday, March 18th greeted us as a cloudy, windy day. Once on deck, around 8:00am, I was very surprised to see the big schooner from yesterday anchored right next to us. She was the Lettie G. Howard, a 19th century New England fishing schooner. Her captain undoubtedly wanted to get her into more protected waters before the big blow arrived later tonight.
In the early afternoon, as the wind was picking up, we made another dinghy trip over to Fort Jefferson to continue our explorations. Upon our return to the boat we found that three more sailboats had sought protection in the now crowded lagoon, a Catalina 32 hailing from Punta Gorda among them.
A short while after our return to the boat the captain of the Catalina 32 rowed over to us; he had a few questions. He explained that he only had 30ft of anchor rode onboard (he was anchored in 20ft of water) and he was very concerned about dragging during the upcoming storm. This news was alarming as Perfect Love was directly in its path if the Catalina could not hold its ground. Not being familiar with the anchorage, and relying solely on my electronic charts, I suggested that he get as close to the beach as possible. As an alternative to the beach, I also suggested that he talk to the captain of the Lettie to see if he could tie off the schooner's stern. The Catalina captain thanked me and departed, heading for the Lettie. I lost track of him after his departure but, just before dark and the arrival of the storm, I took note that the Catalina was still in its original position in front of us.
After a delicious spaghetti dinner, the four of us continued our game of 'Hand and Foot'. The wind picked up noticeably during our card game; it was now blowing at 20-25 knots with gusts up to 30 knots, but no rain yet. After Shawn and I beat Erica and Shirley again (we were, at this point, undefeated), I informed the crew that I would be staying up all night to keep an eye on things. They retired and I settled in for a long night. The first thing that I noticed while sitting the the cockpit was that the Catalina 32 did not have its anchor light on. I was not happy.
Sometime before midnight, as the wind was howling, the lights of a very strange craft slowly entered the harbor. I could not, for the life of me, determine what it was. A monohull sailboat, a catamaran, a weird looking powerboat? I had no clue! As it slowly passed us, I could look through the boat's hull athwartship. As it turned, I see look through the hull stem-to-stern. What the Hell was this thing, some kind of hover craft? This alien shadow cruised slowly though the anchorage and, at one point, it looked like it was up on the beach. Eventually, it left the anchorage and disappeared.
The night was long and ugly. With the forces of the wind and the water pushing us around, Perfect Love would buck and swing back and forth in a 60-degree arch. This swinging caused our stern to continually approach the Lettie's bow and then move away from it. Peering through the rain I tried to identify reference points from the lights of other boats, which were moving like we were, and the fixed lights on shore. It was difficult to determine if we were dragging, but it didn't look like it. I tried to keep particular attention on the barely visible image of the unlit Catalina ahead of us and I cursed its captain more than once.
A heavy, driving rain hit us at around 5:00am and continued for three hours. The water in the lagoon was very choppy at first light and I heard on the VHF that outside the lagoon the waves were 10 feet. As the day dawned I could see that the Catalina had not moved. I could also see, anchored in deeper water, the very strange craft that had entered and then left the lagoon last night. I still could not tell what the Hell it was. The worst of the storm had past and we were fine.
We stayed on the boat the entire day, Tuesday, March 19th, waiting for the weather to clear. We had chicken and pasta for dinner and then rejoined our 'Hand and Foot' battle.
I was sitting in the cockpit, enjoying my usual morning beverage, when an empty rowboat went floating by. Alarmed, I jumped up and took a quick look around. I saw a man swimming, trying to catch up with the row boat. The water was still choppy and the current was very strong and moving out of the lagoon towards open water. There were no boats behind us, just open water. I yelled "man overboard" and prepared to throw a life ring to the swimmer. At the same time, and quite coincidentally, a man in a dinghy was motoring past our stern. I whistled loudly to him, got his attention, and pointed to the rowboat; he went to retrieve it.
By this time my entire crew was on deck. We motioned to the swimmer to head for our swim ladder, which Shirley had quickly attached and thrown overboard. The swimmer made it to our ladder and climbed up the first few steps but did not come onboard. He was in his boxer shorts, which didn't hide much; the girls retreated to the cabin; he was the captain of the Catalina 32. What a knuckle head! He could have easily been swept out to sea had we not seen him.
The rowboat was brought alongside and, after telling him that he needed to turn his anchor light on at night, we bid him a hasty farewell.
Shortly before noon we were hailed on the VHF by the captain of the Lettie G. Howard. They could not get their dinghy motor started and he wanted to know if I would be willing to ferry nine of the students onboard over to the Fort. I immediately agreed if, in return, he would give us a tour of the Lettie. The captain did me one better and said that the Lettie's excellent cook would also provide lunch for us.
Background on the Lettie G. Howard: Built in 1890, the Lettie is currently under contract with The Florida Keys Community College system. She takes students, mostly environmental concentrations, on cruises to environmentally sensitive or important areas within Florida waters. His crew of 8 was augmented by 19 students who also assisted the crew. Besides helping to handle the boat while under sail, the students also had to take turns on watch (watch was kept 24x7, I had noticed at the height of last night's storm that there were at least two people on the Lettie's deck at all times).
It took me three trips to deliver all of the students to shore. I then picked up my crew and we headed for the Lettie. Captain Dave and First Mate Jessie welcomed us, introduced us to the crew and complimented us, profusely, on the beauty of Perfect Love.
Captain Dave conducted a thorough tour of the historic schooner and we then enjoyed a delicious meal on deck. Upon our departure we invited the Captain and First Mate to join us for drinks later that evening back on Perfect Love. They accepted. We ended our busy day enjoying good company and wonderful conversation.
On Thursday, March 21st, a beautiful day, we weighed anchor at 9:00am and motored the five miles from Garden Key to Loggerhead Key where we picked up the single mooring ball right off of the Loggerhead beach. The stunningly beautiful Loggerhead Key is the home of a pristine beach, an impressive and now-abandoned lighthouse, and a light keeper's house. Occasionally, a National Park volunteer will live in the house for up to three months at a time, otherwise, the Key is uninhabited.
After securing the boat to the mooring ball, we splashed the dinghy, motored to shore, secured the dinghy and then struck out on another big adventure. We split up, Shirley and I heading south along the beach while Erica and Shawn headed for the lighthouse.
We circumnavigated the island. The beach and the sea were magnificent but there was a lot of trash, mostly plastic and many pieces of broken crab trap lines and buoys, lying on or half-buried in the sand. Shirley found an empty conch shell and was determined to have me make yet another horn for her. At one point we came upon a fairly large piece of an airplane wing control surface. We studied the debris while imagining what tragedy had caused it to end up on this beach.
We finally rejoined Erica and Shawn, who had been scouring the many piles of shattered sea shells looking for treasures. The four of us then headed to the lighthouse where we ran into John, the National Park volunteer who was half way through his 3-month tour of duty on the island. John was hungry for conversation. He waxed eloquently about the history of the Key and of the lighthouse. He even unlocked the lighthouse door and allowed us to enter, but not to ascend the stone stairs.
We headed back to the dinghy after we extricated ourselves from John. Erica and Shawn snorkeled back to the boat while Shirley and I drove the dinghy.
On Friday, March 22nd, at 7:30am, we weighed anchor, turned the bow eastward and headed for Key West; our Dry Tortugas adventure was coming to a close. We had 70 miles to cover.
We were about 3 miles out when I turned our nose into the wind and gave the order to raise the mainsail. Shirley grabbed the halyard and wrapped it around the electric winch while Erica held the furling line, keeping a small amount of tension on it. Shirley began to raise the sail.
The sail was moving up the mast very slowly and the electric winch was laboring. I could not see the sail from the helm. Shirley could see the sail and stated that it was stuck, but didn't describe what she was seeing. I told her to keep trying, thinking that the mandrel inside the boom just needed a little more torque. I was wrong. One of the long battens inside the sail had come out of its pocket, slid forward, and got caught in the mast track. The harder Shirley tried to raise the sail, the worse the jam got; eventually the batten ripped out of its sleeve and a 12 inch section of the luff tape tore out. We could not move the sail up or down at this point.
Erica took the helm while Shirley kept a close eye on the depth chart and guided Erica. Shawn and I tethered our life jackets to the jack lines and went forward. There were shallows all around us, the wind was blowing at 15 to 17 knots and we had 4 to 5 foot seas.
Erica and Shirley's job was to keep us from running aground; Shawn and I had to extricate the offending batten and get the sail down. Shawn climbed on top of the rigid dodger, working on the back end of the batten, while I climbed several feet up the mast to work on the front end of the batten. It was a tense situation for a few minutes, but we succeeded in getting the batten out of the mast track and getting the sail reefed to a point below the tear. The crisis was over. It took us a while to calm down.
We got back on course, kept the motor running, raised the big genoa and then set the mizzen sail. The wind was favorable and we had a following sea; we were now making 8.5 knots, even with our reefed main. With the starboard rail almost in the water, Perfect Love was in her element and performed beautifully. It was an exhilarating sail all the way to Key West.
After passing two docked cruise ships, a replica of Christopher Columbus' Santa Maria, and several anchored mega-yachts, and being waked by numerous sport fishers flying through the channel, we dropped the hook in the Flemming Key Cut anchorage just before sunset.
We settled in, secured the boat, splashed the dinghy and motored into the dinghy dock close to the Schooner Wharf Bar & Grill (home of the grouchy Micheal McCloud).
Erica and Shawn wanted to go to the Blue Macaw Bar on White Street so we did; drinks and appetizers followed. We then split up as Shirley had something very important to take care of.
Back in 2012, when Shirley was sailing with Ted, their ultimate destination was Key West. They never made it; Ted died suddenly of a massive heart attack, on their boat, in LaBelle, Florida. Shirley had carried Ted's ashes with her on our trip and, as a final farewell to her lost love, she wanted to spread his ashes by mile marker zero; she wanted to turn the final page on that sad chapter of her life. She did, and has found peace.
We met Erica and Shawn at Jack Flat's Sports Bar on Duval Street, had a great, late dinner, and headed back to the boat. We were exhausted.
Until next time, may your tomorrow bring fair winds and following seas.