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.

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Leave the Slip, Have an Adventure

 

In October we removed our air conditioners but it wasn't until mid-November that we finally took the Knotty Cat for a spin. We hadn't had her out since our week long cruise way back at the end of May. Once we decided to head on out we realized we had a hell of a lot of clean up work to do since we've basically allowed ourselves to become a cluttered house on the water. We weeded out some junk including a pile of clothes I haven't worn in three years, horribly torn jeans Hans hasn't worn in three years, plastic party trays, plastic champagne glasses... We also unloaded all our air conditioners on Craigs List (if I could only find a way to get Hans to let go of his hockey equipment which currently takes up nearly all of our dock box space), as there is nowhere on the boat to store these once we start cruising again. We then directed our attention to all the crap sitting around the inside of the boat that had the potential of becoming dangerous projectiles should we get waked by clueless powerboats zooming past us in narrow channels or while we are at anchor.

For me, it was almost like learning to walk again. I did manage to get the boat out of the slip without a problem but it took awhile for me to remember all the particulars about our batteries, solar panels, etc... Wilbur was equally puzzled and he literally trembled for the first couple of hours which resulted in me stuffing him into his winter coat.

 

Huh? What's that? It's been awhile since we've used the Chartplotter.

 

And even though we were only out for three days and hardly more than a few miles from home we still had to have one small adventure. Once we entered the gulf we put up both our main and jib and then wondered why with a decent wind we were only going about four and a half knots. Hans kept mentioning this issue but since I don't care how fast/slow the Knotty Cat sails and anyway I was in the middle of reading The Caine Mutiny, I just kept saying "Uh-huh, Uh-huh," everytime he brought it up. We must have been sailing for a few hours when I stood up, stretched, looked back toward the stern, and thought I saw something following in our wake. Hans happened to look back at about the same time and asked, "What the hell is that?"

About thirty or so feet behind us (the same distance we trail our fishing lines) we noticed something breaking just under the surface. But as we continued to watch, it would disappear, reappear, and then disappear again. Hans thought maybe we'd snagged something which therefore explained our sluggish progress while I dismissed that idea as wishful thinking. And then all of a sudden 'it' was back. Something for sure was trailing us, and I, with my Creature from the Black Lagoon imagination, nearly had a fit. Whatever it was, it never quite broke the surface but as we continued to watch, we could see a big dark scary presence under the surface. Completely abandoning the Caine Mutiny (after all, they only had to deal with an insane captain and a typhoon) I couldn't take my eyes off our predator.

 

Hans was positive we'd snagged a crab trap and had been dragging it for hours. Somehow, I was elected to climb down the stern platform with a boat hook in order to swipe at the water behind us in hopes that I'd snag whatever monster might be trailing us. This job wasn't made any easier due to the fact that we'd lashed our dinghy (on its side) flush to our stern thus using up any really good foot holds.

Once in place, I hung on tightly to a back stay and made some very ineffectual stabs at the water with the hook. I told Hans to please steer the boat more into the wind so we'd slow down (we had continued to sail and didn't start the engines in case a crab line might be wrapped around a propellor), and then all of a sudden (and definitely without any help from me) a crab float popped up right beside me and quick as a wink it disappeared behind us most likely in search of the next hapless sailor to stumble upon it.

While I struggled to climb back up into the boat (oh, what fun it is to grind my bare knees on the deck while I try to crawl past our dinghy, Hans was joyfully calling out our new speed which was a good two knots faster than we'd been moving all day.

And on that cheerful note we sailed back into Boca Ciega Bay and anchored for the night.

We could grow roots in a marina for months (which we do) and Wilbur never bothers to sit here. However, as soon as we move he flips up that seat and squishes himself into that small space. This is where he spent the first few months of his life over 4 years ago and it means 'comfort' to him.

 

Wilbur had been fast asleep until we sailed past DeSoto Beach. And for those of you who aren't in the know; it's a doggy beach. Check out his nose, it nearly quivered off his face.

 

Kite surfing? Kite boarding? I don't feel like looking it up, but we sailed past a ton of them.

 

Messing around with the panorama setting on my phone. This was after we'd gone under that bridge.

 

Thanksgiving is quickly approaching and we'd love to spend it at anchor like we did two years ago (last year the weather was miserable and we didn't get out), but in the end it really doesn't matter; we're just thankful that we can celebrate the holiday together as a happy fambly.

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