Yeah, that thing I mentioned about highs and lows?

"At least oars don't break down!" a fellow boater called to us as we rowed past him in our dinghy here in the Boot Key Harbor mooring field a couple of days ago.

And why were we rowing? Because our newly repaired dinghy motor refused to start, that's why.

 

One of our neighbors checking things out

I guess this is the low I was worrying about after experiencing the high of surviving the nasty front that blew in the night before.

What a confluence of events we've experienced in the last couple of days.

When we arrived in Boot Key Harbor I was thrilled that Hans signed us up for a week long stay. I'm a bit of a wet blanket and I like the feeling of stability one gets with putting down roots for more than one day. After that I'm usually ready to leave and move on to our next adventure.

The day before our week long commitment here was to end, we made huge plans to finish up some loose ends. We would get up early and walk to Publix and Winn-Dixie for a huge provisioning run and then hire a taxi (it's like 5 dollars) back to the dock. I would get a load of laundry done along with both of us getting much needed showers, Hans would clean up our engine rooms, we would hoist the dinghy and motor into their respective resting places aboard the Knotty Cat, and the next day we would be off to the next anchorage before we blasted off to the Bahamas.

I woke up on Wednesday morning to Hans saying, "I've decided we're going to stay another week." I was thrilled as I love it here in Marathon, and then I thought maybe he was playing a cruel April Fool's joke on me. But he wasn't. He'd been following the weather and realized the week ahead weather forecast wasn't favorable at all for crossing to the Bahamas and all we'd do was sit in an anchorage using up all our water and food stores. And that's not fun.

After listening to the morning cruiser's net on channel 68 we decided to take Wilbur to the Hillbilly Diner (a new floating breakfast enterprise) where the owner promised bacon flavored treats to all furry friends. "Yaaaay!" Wilbur exclaimed, and we jumped into the dinghy. Only the outboard wouldn't start.

 

Even though we gave the motor several rests just in case we'd flooded it, it never did start and our plans quickly eroded. Wilbur did not get a bacony treat, laundry didn't get done (it's still piling up), a provisioning run was out of the question, but Phil, who happens to be on the boat right beside us, heard me complaining about our problem after we'd rowed* ashore, and offered his expertise. C'mon over! we exclaimed. And he did. BTW, Wilbur is not a fan of rowing; he wants to get to shore 'now' and half way through our slog to the dock he tried to get out and tow us.

*I realize there are a lot of cruisers who don't have outboards and they row everywhere (and they're in fantastic shape too!) but as long as we have an outboard we'd like for it to work.

Over the next few hours Phil and Hans systematically tore that bugger to pieces. Hoses, spark plugs, wires, you name it, that motor got the deluxe spa treatment (In my 50 plus years on this earth I've yet to receive this kind of attention). To me, the motor was starting to take on a smug kind of aura and she still refused to start. The next day on the cruiser's net our problem was made public and we received a lot of good info, yet our motor continued to remain mute. Hans finally gave up and started calling various enterprises and we were dismayed to find their repair schedules were over a week out. And then we found Alex from Sea Tek (who lives not far from us in the mooring field). Within a half hour of our S.O.S., Alex arrived and promptly got down to business. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing and after a few ministrations to our outboard, it fired up like it hadn't a problem in the world.

We were stunned as Alex really did nothing more than point out that a couple of wires Hans had cut had been unnecessary and then he scrubbed the spark plugs with a wire brush. That's it.

 

So, I think we have a bit of sibling rivalry going on here. The Knotty Cat has been gifted with all kinds of bling lately and even though the outboard (the Knotty Dog) did get her carburetor rebuilt back in January, this wasn't good enough. And while I'm sure it gave her a heady feeling to hold all of us hostage for a couple of days she knew she couldn't pull a fast one over on Alex.

 

Alex takes care of business

We were quite happy (Wilbur even more so) to finally motor over to the dinghy dock and Hans hiked to West Marine and bought even more stuff for her highness.

I only hope she's satisfied for the time being.

 

Just as I went to hit the publish button on this, Hans emerged from the starboard engine room and reported to me that the transmission oil plug fell apart in his hand and the dip stick is now stuck in place.

 

 

Daddy, will we ever get to the Bahamas?

Posted with Blogsy

Highs and Lows

Another sunset in Marathon

 

I'm talking about the highs and lows of living aboard a boat (although 'highs and lows' could also be a weather reference which as we all know is extremely important when cruising).

I'm beginning to find a strange rhythm to the whole 'I love living on a boat-I hate living on a boat' thing. And it's almost cruel.

It never fails that after we experience a spate of good tidings and begin to relax about our life at sea and exclaim, "Wow, are we lucky or what?", fate turns around and smacks us right upside the head. Every single time.

If you follow our blog at all you'll know what I mean.

 

Just short of two months into our re-entry of the cruising life we've had to have our dinghy's carburetor rebuilt, we've ran aground (but got off on our own) a few times, dragged anchor several times, woke up to and also sailed into pea soup a couple of times, discovered a fresh water leak (our starboard water tank's overflow valve has joined the same troublesome union the rest of our working systems belong to) underneath the mattress in our berth, beat our brains out trying to discern why our batteries couldn't hold a charge, and ended up replacing both engines' alternators.

 

In between these trials, we've had friends join us for a week, met up with friends from years past, actually got to the Dry Tortuga's (Hans can scratch this off his bucket list), enjoyed some beautiful achorages along with beautiful sunsets (sunrises don't come easy to us), unexpectedly ran into friends from our home port of South Pasadena while we were in fabulous Key West, and lastly, after a horribly long day of enduring a 'washing machine' passage (my opinion, while Hans feels it was one of the best sails we've ever experienced) we found ourselves moored in Boot Key Harbor here in Marathon.

When we first went past Boot Key Harbor on our way to the Tortuga's, the mooring field was full with a thirty boat waiting list. This time, on our way back, we were immediately assigned a mooring and we considered ourselves lucky as a weather front was moving in from the north with threats of strong winds and we wanted to be nice and secure. Things were looking up; we were a short distance from the dinghy dock, there is an excellent library exchange here (we had 11 books to trade), and shopping is within walking distance.

A while back I received an email from a blog follower, and she and her husband were going to be in the Marathon/Key West area kinda sorta around the time we were, and perhaps we just might meet up.

Oddly enough, in Marathon, we did.

We made arrangements to meet our new friends on their boat for drinks and appetizers and they even invited Wilbur (honestly, they really did). We normally close down shop on the Knotty Cat by late afternoon, meaning we usually stay put before sundown. I remember the time we were anchored in the Potomac back in 2010 when Hans and I went to a spaghetti dinner at the Capital Yacht Club and we left a young Wilbur on board with all the hatches open. We had barely finished eating when a storm rolled in complete with winds that knocked over a nearby restaurant's umbrella tables, blinding lightning, and slashing rain. Panic set in because we could not see our boat and we were terrified it would drag and our baby was on board. As soon as the rain let up a bit and even though the sky was still alive with lightning we jumped into our dinghy (which was already ankle deep in water) and headed for the Knotty Cat. It was with total relief we found out boat still in place even though the interior was soaked. We were also relieved to find Wilbur none the worse for his experience and as he sat in his crate with water dripping all over him from above, his tail wagged furiously, and we both got big pitty kisses when we let him out. That was the last time we went anywhere in the evening.

This time we weren't worried. We were on a mooring ball and our friends' boat was a short distance away. We had a great time, Wilbur was thoroughly excited to be included and even managed to sneak in a few stinky pitty kisses, and before we knew it it was time to leave. Actually, we should have left sooner because the wind was really kicking up and dark clouds were rolling in. We jumped into the dinghy and as we sped away, all of a sudden it was like someone pulled the shades down and turned out the lights. The wind kicked into full gear and started screaming mournfully through the mooring field. We were so amazed we actually went in the wrong direction (very surprising since I'm pretty sure Hans has a compass built into his brain) and we found ourselves at the wrong end of the mooring field. We got turned around just as lightning began to flash and sharp drops of rain started pelting us. We bounced through the waves and of course most of them washed over the bow and straight into Wilbur's face, and Wilbur, who just lives for dinghy rides, decided this was no fun at all and tried to escape. I forced him down at my feet and then the waves crashed into my face. Normally, this totally pisses me off and Hans kept apologizing over the screaming wind but I told him I didn't care and to please just get us home. He did, and with the stern of our boat blocking some of the wind we managed to get safely aboard.

It didn't end there though. Even with the wind generator working overtime, our batteries didn't look as strong as they should (not a lot of sun earlier so the solar panels hadn't helped) and Hans decided to start up the Honda generator. During a slight lull in the storm he got it up and running and we plugged in all our electronics. But within minutes the oil alarm light on the Honda lit up and it promptly died. Oh my, I wish I'd taken a video of Hans in the cockpit trying to get that big stinker started again. He was already soaked to the skin, and after (over) filling the generator with oil (and please don't get Hans started on how inaccessible the oil filling thingy is) he started ripping the pull cord in a maniacal fashion again and again and again. I bit my tongue (for once) and didn't say anything about how at least he was getting an upper body workout. The generator never did start (although in the bright light of the next day she was quite happy to fire up) but with Windy doing the job she'd been hired to do, the batteries finally leveled off at an acceptable level.

 

We rinsed out our saturated clothing in the shower (clothes soaked in salt water do.not.dry!) and assured our friends via cell phone that we had arrived home safe and sound and it wouldn't be necessary to send Flipper (the aquatic version of Lassie) out to rescue us.

The day after? It was gorgeous with zero humidity and life was good once again.

Wilbur at sunset

I guess this means the shit's gonna hit the fan again and I'm not looking forward to it.

Posted with Blogsy

At Sea with Miss Grumpy Pants

Yesterday I discovered I'm a poor sport and a crappy first mate. At least this is my observation and if Hans feels the same way about it he's wisely keeping it to himself.

I think maybe we just got off on the wrong foot first thing in the morning and it just went straight downhill from there.

We left Conch Harbor Marina in Key West on a high note and after motoring a couple of smooth hours we anchored in Saddlebunch Key. We arrived on a high tide yet saw depths as low as 4 feet. Hmmm. But it was a peaceful anchorage and we could see the huge tarpons surfacing all around us which explained the flat bottom fishing boats flitting about. Our plan for the next day was a short sail to Bohia Honda (we stayed there on our way to Key West and even though we dragged anchor we figured we'd be okay this time) so I stayed up later that night than usual.

Imagine, then, my surprise when I woke up around 8 AM because Hans had fired up our engines. "Hurry up." he told me, "we're leaving." Wilbur was lying beside me and gave me his 'here we go again look'.

I will say right now it's not my fault I ran us aground. Why the hell we left at low tide is beyond me but luckily all we did was churn up a bunch of mud and anyway I'm pretty sure the people in the fishing boat next to us were thoroughly entertained. And off we went.

It was windier than forecast and as we bumped and rolled along in the lumpy seas, stuff I hadn't had a chance to stow away started falling off shelves and counters (including the glass-top lid to my sauce pan). I asked Hans when it was going to smooth out since he'd promised me a 'wonderful day of sailing!' He gave me a blank look and said, "Well, this is it." And then he informed me we were shooting straight for Marathon with no stop along the way which meant about eight hours of this nonsense. I flounced down below to try and make coffee and was furious to discover Hans had finished up the last of my 'Wilbur Wow-Wow' cranberry juice even though he has his own bottle of grape juice. Grape juice in a Wow-Wow? Yuck! Oh, and someone shut off the refrigerator for an entire day thus defrosting it (it was just defrosted a week ago). We are both denying it but I think we each secretly blame the other.

After the first hour we let out the jib and since the seas were so rolly, when Hans expressed a desire to put up the main, I insisted on being the one to guide it up the mast and not him. With the engines shut down and by powering with sail only, it was a bit smoother but not enough to make me happy (by now I had my 'grump' on and didn't want to be happy anyway).

Throughout the day Hans was very excited to announce our speed which was usually 6 plus knots and then he wondered why all of a sudden we'd slowed down to four and a half knots. The boat sailing behind us started catching up quickly so we knew the problem must be with us (of course). There were crab pots everywhere and we were being very careful so surely it couldn't be that. I ended up stepping down behind our stern and when I tried to peer under the boat I saw a thick red line running under water directly from our starboard side.

Damn! Honest to god I swear we have a crab trap magnet on the Knotty Cat.

We've been through this drill before and once again I told Hans we would have to lay off the wind if he wanted me to try and snag the damn thing. He decided to heave to and even though the waves were sloshing over the bottom stern steps at least we didn't have forward momentum. I swiped at the water under our stern with our boat hook several times and just as I was ready to give up I snagged the line. I had my left hand wrapped around the main sheet so I wouldn't fall in and as I hauled it up (not easy let me tell you, remember there was a crab or lobster trap on the other end), Hans left the cockpit and laid down on the top step and started sawing at the line with his rigging knife (Wilbur was very interested in this particular activity and I noticed with great alarm how far over the side he was leaning). When Hans announced it was like trying to cut a steel wire and that he was going to go get our wire cutters I yelled, "You're not going anywhere! Just keep sawing the sonofabitch!" And he did. Once we were free of the trap we managed to get turned back around and all of a sudden there was the severed crab pot floating behind us. At least we didn't have to worry about starting our starboard engine when the time came to fire it back up.

The next time this happens (and it will) I fully intend to hang onto the trap. I only hope it's full because as far as I'm concerned we should get a reward for our troubles (sarcasm here, we don't steal crab traps!).

Please note; we have all the respect in the world for crabbing folk, and when the traps are in a line it's very easy to avoid them. However, there are areas where the traps are thickly scattered like buckshot and therefore not so easy to miss.

We ended up reefing the main and rolling the jib in a bit but for me it was still a crappy ride. At one point we had a wave wash over the starboard side and soak an astonished Wilbur. The strange thing is; the winds never went over 22 knots and the waves were only about 3-4 feet.

When we passed the Bohia Honda anchorage Hans was kind enough to ask if I just wanted to go ahead on in and anchor for the night. But since we now only had two more hours to go I figured we may as well sail on.

My stomach was churning, I was sticky with clammy sweat, and covered in a film of salt water spray from when I had to go up to the the bow and clear a line Hans had left there when we weighed anchor (this involved my crab-walking to the front while the bow continually plunged into the water and then shot back up), when I noticed that a fender had rolled off and was dangling over the side up toward the bow. I didn't care that we didn't look ship-shape, said the hell with it, and laid down in the cockpit.

Poor Hans had been stuck in the captain's seat for nearly the whole trip and I had no idea that during last two hours of our voyage he had to go to the bathroom. But, by that time I'm pretty sure he was regarding me with the same respect one gives a junk yard dog and the fear of disturbing me far outweighed the pressure on his bladder.

I'm pretty sure this is what I looked like. Scary!

Finally, after eight long hours we arrived in Marathon and picked up a mooring ball, Hans got to go to the bathroom, and I got to put the inside of our topsy turvy boat back together.

Our berth. This is the first time in seven years this has happened to us.

 

A different angle.

Posted with Blogsy

Our Friends' Three Hour Tour Ends in Marathon

 

We ended up docking at a marina in Marathon thus bringing an end to our northern friends' visit. We did not get them to Key West as we'd originally hoped but considering the weather we started out with (crazy cold temps and winds), and a couple of unexpected stops, I think we did pretty good.

All kinds of stuff then had to take place and get put into effect. A car rental reservation had to be made (and on a weekend in Marathon during the height of snow bird season it's not that easy), should I thaw something for dinner or were we going to go out to eat, did we have time to get laundry done or should we wait until the next day, did we want to sight see or not, and if our guests were able to snag a car when should we try to provision? During this decision making I hurried up and re-filled our water tanks, scrubbed the bloody remains of mosquito corpses from the cockpit (a surprisingly tough job), dumped garbage, and walked the dog a couple of times (Wilbur was suffering from serious sniffy withdrawal).

On day two at the marina Dave and Kathy obtained their rental car and it was decided we'd go out to dinner before their next day's departure. Hans went with them to pick up the car and get our mail and I was very excited to find the dry bag I'd ordered, along with my new bluetooth keyboard, had arrived (the letter 't' on my old keyboard went on an illegal strike so I fired it).

So here's how we ended up eating at the Sunset Grill. Normally, one might Google local restaurants and perhaps read some reviews and go from there. But, you haven't met Kathy. We were on our way to eat when Dave and Hans told me how exactly they'd chosen this particular venue.

Kathy had taken note of how friendly and helpful the lady at the very busy car rental agency was and decided once they'd departed that she would give her a call. Nice Lady didn't answer so Kathy then left a detailed voice mail. Nice Lady (who really was nice after all) returned Kathy's call and they had a lively discussion and not only did Nice Lady recommend the Sunset Grill, she told Kathy where she could shop for a couple of nice summer tops. By now Dave and Hans were laughing and said only a woman would do something like that. But that's how women are; Nice Lady probably could have told Kathy where a good shoe sale was going on or where the best place to shop for fresh produce was. Even Google can't do that in just one quick visit!

By the way, the Sunset Grill was the perfect place to go. It was a snow-bird's dream of an evening in Florida; wide open seating with a warm breeze drifting through, a sandy beach just a few steps away, a huge lit swimming pool where kids swam around while their parents sat close by at their table. Oh, and the food and service were great too.

After dinner, Hans, and Kathy and Dave, got the better of me with a mini surprise party. Hans bought me a pretty shark tooth necklace from a lady in the marina gift store who finds her shark teeth at the Don Pedro State Park where Hans had no luck finding any. Now I have one.

Dave and Kathy really surprised me with a conch shell. We've been wanting one for a long time and I had hoped we could snag one in the Bahamas and drill it out ourselves. But this is much better; it's a perfect petite size for the boat and it's been drilled correctly and works beautifully, plus it was a gift from very special friends.

Check out that adorable conch shell.

We've since blown our conch at sundown several times. It takes a couple of efforts each time but we've both managed to do pretty well.

I now have a whole new appreciation for trumpet players.

 

Posted with Blogsy