Rocky Night (Florida Boating, Post 23)

Friday, February 12, morning

When we anchored the previous afternoon, the water seemed plenty deep enough and we were quite far from the nearest island. The only issue was fairly large swells which were not going in the same direction as the wind, resulting in crazy bobbing of the boat. We assumed that as night fell the wind would die down and the boat would resume its typical slow, slight bobbing at anchor which does not impede moving around, writing, and sleeping.

Meanwhile the water was quite rough and I am grateful to have enough recovered core strength to be able to move around on the boat. It is very cramped and it takes a lot of maneuverability, strength and flexibility just to do everyday tasks like find where I left my phone! It’s even more challenging to get myself from the sailboat into the kayak, and then back again. That’s certainly something I would not have been able to do a few short months ago! 

After our kayak trip to the beach, we came back and fixed some dinner. I talked with Serenity on the phone and afterwards, worked on my blog.

We found out today that Serenity was exposed to covid on Monday evening. I’m trying not to worry about it, because my worrying doesn’t help anything at this point. But obviously I’m concerned.

Luckily I was comfortable enough going to bed, even though I had been claustrophobic the night before. We propped the forward hatch (above my bed) open slightly to help me not get claustrophobic. We also set up a little nightlight so it wasn’t pitch black in our cabin. 

Unfortunately, the boat was still rocking and rolling when we went to bed. It was moving around so much that I couldn’t sleep on my side or else I would roll back and forth with the boat. I had to sleep flat on my stomach or back in order to not be tossed around. I would not recommend this trip for anyone with a tendency toward motion sickness! Last night was ridiculous and I’m amazed John and I weren’t nauseous. 

In addition to the constant motion, it was incredibly loud as all our lines and stays swayed and banged, and the keel knocked back and forth in its box. We rocked and rolled and clanged all night until suddenly, at 5:30 AM, there was a huge jolt and thump – we had hit a rock! But we didn’t stay on it. We swung off, only to hit it (or another nearby rock) a few seconds later. We were grounding! Dang, the tide was supposed to be high enough here. I couldn’t believe it. Twice in a row!

John got up and winched the keel to its highest position (it had been raised already, leaving only a few inches down, but now we needed every inch we could get). We pulled in the tiller and set it in the cockpit, and raised the outboards, because the previous night we had to dig the tiller out of the mud.

On the previous night when we had grounded in middle of the night, we had simply quietly sunk into the sand. But this time the water was rougher and the bottom was rocky. Instead of eerily sinking into muddy silence, we repeatedly bounced off rocks for an hour.

Finally, at 6:30 AM this morning, we ground into the rocky bottom with a series of tire-on-gravel noises, and stayed there. The boat stilled. John was already up, but I realized it was my perfect chance to catch a few minutes of motionless sleep. I put in a pair of earplugs and blissfully dreamed away an hour while we were grounded, until 7:30 when the banging started back up again.

As the tide returned, the boat started coming up off the rocks, repeatedly swinging into them as the boat slowly gained buoyancy again. Thump, bump, thump, bump.

When I got up, John was wading around in several inches of water, setting a second anchor to keep us from swinging on the main anchor further into the shallows to one side of us.

It’s now mid-morning and we are floating peacefully in a few feet of calm water on anchor, watching all the amazing birds.

There are lots of pelicans, white egrets and cormorants walking along in the shallows. They look like they are walking on water. There’s barely any breeze at all. It’s idyllic. If it had been like this last night I would have slept! All these different conditions, all in the same spot on the same anchor.

At some point today we’re going to have to move and try again to find a decent anchorage. But for now we’re going to work on getting cleaned up. With the rough waves, water had managed to splash up the keel box and onto our carpeted floor. John pulled the carpet up to get it drying on top of the cabin. Below the carpet is a rubber mat, which he also pulled up so he could sponge the wet floor below it. Hopefully we don’t encounter such big swells again. 

I tried to get into the water around noon, but it was too cold. I haven’t actually made it into the water this whole trip. I’m starting to question whether we want to store the boat out here as originally planned. I’m actually starting to question whether we even want to own a boat at all!

Maybe we just need to come in a warmer season, rather than at the end of winter? But not so late as to be approaching hurricane season. Maybe later in the spring? Obviously we need to stay in deeper water. I guess what I’m wondering is – are we in a learning curve and this is going to get better, or is the entire premise flawed?

This is our first multi-day trip overnighting in this boat. So far, here’s what I’d do differently: 

Warmer season. The low 70’s is wonderfully warm when compared to most of the county in February, and it’s also very comfortable when on dry land. But it isn’t particularly warm when you’re on the water, damp and constantly in the wind.

Obviously, we need deeper anchorages with more thought to wind direction. 

We need more room in the boat. We are way too cramped; we need less stuff or a bigger boat. We definitely could get away with a smaller ice chest – it’s huge. We probably don’t need anything in a cooler at all. But if we do want refrigeration, we should get a second solar panel and another battery, and buy a small electric cooler instead of a bulky ice chest.

I could really use a small microwave. Our gas powered stove is prone to dangerous-looking flare-ups and seems hardly worth the space. A backpacking stove would be more useful.

I need more space in my bunk, which means half as much luggage. I definitely brought too many clothes. Especially too many clothes that don’t perform well when damp. No more cotton! Sleeping bags are bulky and unnecessary. 2 lightweight non-cotton blankets would be nice; the sheets aren’t quite enough. 

The carpet in the cabin is prone to damp funk; we should roll that up before sailing and whenever it is choppy.

The power cable line that goes up inside the mast to power the mast light clangs like a bell about once per second, day and night, whenever the boat is rocking. That has to be fixed before I go out of my mind. 

What we did right: Towing a kayak. Well-organized food. Fishing gear for John. Cell tower and some ability to charge electronics. Plenty of fresh water. Plenty of extra gas. Well-functioning, non-smelly, self-contained toilet. Bimini top for shade. Clothespins and all kinds of handy, useful things. John and I are both good at having along useful items just in case. (Which is why we have too much stuff and are too cramped). Instant coffee! A lifesaver. This is no time to be a coffee snob!

It’s easy to forget the hard parts when it’s so beautiful.

To send Kristina a comment, email turning51bykristina@gmail.com