progress :)

Look closely....there's a Willis T Cat in those mangroves...next to an empty bottle of Corona Light.  Dern cat.  When the thunderstorm blew up late this morning, he made a beeline back to the boat.  He's now sequestered there until Uncle Kenny comes for him tomorrow morning.  Uncle Kenny is going to have his hands full these last two days.  The boy didn't get one last trip to the Kit Kat Go Go Lounge in before we head home to Indiana on Thursday.

 

 

Donnie no sooner got the dinghy taken down and the rain began.  Boy did it ever pour...lightening., thunder, the whole shebang.  The good news about that is it kept us stuck on the boat, so we got major cleaning and packing done down below.  I feel like we are a bit ahead of the game, actually.   

 

 

Later this afternoon, we went to Kenny and Fran's to play one last game of chickenfoot- the bird is going home with ME to Indiana!  We took a walk around their property before we left, as the sun was shining, and I saw these little puffer fish.

Danny grilled the black fin tuna Donnie caught the other day.  Along with some baked potatoes and the glazed carrots I made, we feasted like kings- again.  I'm going to miss the fresh seafood... Though there were clouds in the sky, it looked like we might have a sunset afterall- so we all gathered 'round.

 

At just the last moment, the sun dropped from the clouds, and the colors were gorgeous.

 

I'm sure going to miss this view, too.

 

After Kenny comes for Willis, we are expecting Pastor Bob and Marcia at about 10:00am.  They are joining us for a cruise under the Seven Mile Bridge, to Burdines's for lunch.  After my last deep fried key lime pie for the season, we will motor through the canals where Marquesa will be docked next door to Donnie's sister's house.  We are praying it is not an active hurricane season!  I also am hoping above all hopes that the weather holds out tomorrow and Wednesday until we can get the sails and canvas off the boat and safely stored down below.  I don't want a repeat of last season where we had to leave everything soaking wet.  Pray for sunshine, people!  Gotta go color my hairs, and check on the last load of laundry :)  G'nite, y'all!



All good things...

must come to an end. 

And that's where we're at these days.  Cap'n got a coat of wax on the boat, I cleaned and oiled the teaks topside, and we both worked on polishing all of the stainless.  I am whittling down the pantry and fridge, and have started the process of cleaning and storing stuff until next season.  It's bittersweet, actually.  I am anxious to get home, to all the kids and grandkids, our home and property, and such.  But then I think of the reality of how much work there is to do on this end to pack up and leave, the two hard day's drive home, and then the unpacking and cleaning on the home front, too.  It's all a bit overwhelming.

So what did I do after church today?!  Took a two hour nap!  What do we have planned for tomorrow afternoon?  A game of chickenfoot and poolside fun in the afternoon with Kenny and Fran! 

Which means tomorrow morning we got to get with it...Cap'n is going to help me clean out the sea berth where all of our dive gear, life raft, life vests and such is stored.  When I'm done there, I plan to get all of our stuff out of Danny's car that we've had in storage (the world's most expensive dock box- his car no longer runs :) I also need to empty out the Jeep. While I begin sorting and packing some things, Cap'n is going to deflate and store the dinghy.  If he has time before lunch, he'll go over to Ray's dock on Angler Drive do a bit of maintenance on his dock before we sail over on Tuesday.

The plan for now is to have Pastor Bob and Marcia join us on Tuesday morning for the sail over to the ocean side.  We'll be taking Marquesa under the Seven Mile Bridge for the last time this year, through to Boot Key Harbor.  There we will stop and have lunch at Burdine's with them, (our last time, their first), and then we will go through the canals to Angler Drive.  I hope it is a pleasant sail for them. The wind has really been blowing out of the E/NE, ever since we made our passage last Tuesday.  I have no desire to get seasick again any time soon. 

Once the boat is to the canal, Willis will go to Uncle Kenny's to be baby-sat for a few days, while we take down the sails, the bimini and dodger rails, and do the final prepping to store her for eight months.  I bought about all the Damp Rid they had in the store today to keep the moisture down in the boat through the summer.  We'll also keep a fan running inside, and there's a solar fan up in the Vberth, so the air circulation should help, too.  My biggest concern is I've just heard about PALM RATS in the last few days....really????  I. hate. all. vermin. I need to google what else I can possible do to keep critters off the boat.  I would be beyond ticked (and disgusted) if palm rats throw a party on Marquesa while we are gone.

As for now, I'm too pooped to party, so I'm calling it a night.  G'nite, y'all!

Firsts and Lasts

As y'all know, we got back to Banana Bay at noon on Wednesday.  After five loads of laundry, the best hot shower in over a week, and a burger from Brutus' for dinner, by Weds. night, we were done in.  In fact, we all (Willis included) did the sleep of the dead- 11 hours!  The boys look so peaceful...nothing like the previous night on passage.  Love. Them. Both.

Thursday seemed to be a bit of a lost day as well.  We got off to a late start, and in the words of our good buddy Danny, we "started slow and tapered off!"  I managed to clean up the boat inside some more, put all of the laundry away, went through a pile of mail, and paid some bills.  Donnie gave Marquesa a thorough scrubbing on the exterior getting the layers of salt off of her.  Even the canvas tops needed scrubbed, from the waves that crashed over us.  She looks happily docked now :) 

Our first "last" was meeting Kenny and Fran at Salty's on Thursday night to hear Gary Bush and his band, "Just Practicing". They are really incredible, and Donnie and I had fun dancing our flippie flops off.  After the second set though, we were beat, and called it a relatively early night, again.  One night without sleep is a killer for us any more!  It takes us at least two days to recover. We must be showing our age.  Boo to that.

This morning, we got up early as we had things to accomplish before 10am...Donnie was going fishing, and I was heading to Key West for the day with Fran.  A trip to the bank and grocery was the first order of business.  I then stopped by Yanmar Diesel to see Luis about Bessie.  She's working beautifully, no problems there, but he had told us to call him once we had 50 hours on the new engine as she would require a valve adjustment.  We actually have 74 hours now, after our Gulf coast cruise, so I made arrangements to get a technician out here on Tuesday or Wednesday of this next week.  A quick stop at our favorite Cuban restaurant, and I got us both a Cuban coffee and some guava pastelos to fuel us through the morning.  I can assure you, that was not my "last" Cuban coffee- not yet!

The first "first" of the day was buying a new dinghy motor!  One Gallon Don and Kevin had a little 3.5 hp Mercury that has barely been used.  Yes, it may be a bit slower overall, than the one Cap'n fed to King Neptune a few nights ago.  However, it is very light (about 35lbs) so even I can lift it up to the cockpit where it is stored on the stern rail.  After Kevin cleaned the carburetor, it starts with just one pull and runs like a top, so we are pleased.  We really didn't need the dink to plane out.  Honestly, when we go gunkholing around in the dink, we are sightseeing anyhow, or simply using the dink to get to shore from an anchorage.  I think the new little Mercury is going to suit our needs just fine.  He just seems like a "he", so I shall name him Maynard.  And we got one major item checked off the to-do list with another trip to the bank!

At 10am, Donnie left to go fishing with Kenny and Rupert, and Frannie and I headed to Key West for a girl's day out.  Though I have been to Key West many times before, it has always been with a purpose- like going to the Kino's sandal factory.  Today was another "first"... Key West with no agenda whatsoever... just a day to stroll.  It was heavenly to have a day of total leisure.  Another "first" for me was a trip to the top floor of La Concha Hotel.  I've always wanted to do it, and just never have. Though only seven stories tall, it is the tallest building in Key West, and the view from the top is spectacular.

It was a "first" for Fran, too.  We really enjoyed it.

Around every corner was another vista of the city, and it was gorgeous.  The harbor was filled with sailboats :)

Some of my favorite things....the lighthouse, one of the many churches, and a cruise ship LEAVING, taking all the drunken, sunburnt passengers with them!  I know I breathe easier when Duvall Street isn't shoulder to shoulder with stupid drunk people. It just made the sightseeing and window shopping so much more enjoyable for me.

While I have eaten at Fogerty's many times before, I always get the Mahi Mahi fish sandwich that is as big as your head.  As a "first", I tried the Chinese Chicken salad, and Fran had some type of salad with sirloin tips. These salads were also as big as your head, and fabulous!  We should have split one.  I highly recommend this place if ever you're in Key West.

And, the biggest "first" of all....I bought ("invested") in my first piece of artwork!  Donnie and I have strolled through the many galleries in Key West, but have never purchased anything.  It is by Steve Harlan- look him up- he does beautiful work.  The painting is called Midnight, and it is a solitary sailboat, at anchor, by the light of the moon.  It is a scene that Donnie and I have lived aboard Marquesa hundreds of times.  There is something so incredibly peaceful and serene being the only boat in an anchorage, by the light of the moon, with the water lapping gently against the hull, and a breeze blowing down the hatches.  It is captured perfectly in this painting.  It is being commissioned, so I will likely wait 6-8 weeks before it is shipped to us.  I'm anxious to see which number I get out of 250!  I plan to redo the master bedroom around this painting....I'm getting rid of the excess furniture and clutter, changing the bedding, and placing this painting where we can look at it before we go to sleep each night.  It will sustain us for those eight months that we work like crazy people to have the money to come and live aboard Marquesa for the other four months out of the year.  I cannot wait to receive it in the mail :)



Now you want to hear the really craaaaaazy part to this story?  My husband was in Key West on a boy's trip last year with Kenny and his son, Ken Jr.  They went into this same gallery, and Donnie called Kenny over to see this very same painting as it is so simple, yet unusual.  The painting is done on aluminum, and it just seems to glow.  When I first saw it today on an easel, I even walked behind it, as I thought it was backlit.  No, it just seems to glow.  This very same painting that caught Donnie's eye a year ago, and now will be in our home this summer!  Life is serendipitous like that sometimes.  Donnie and I call those "Celestine Prophecy" moments.  I love it.

As for a few more "lasts"....

I had my last gelato, from my favorite gelato place on Duvall Street.  Emily and Ellen know the place- we never miss an opportunity for some gelato from there when we visit Key West.

And this evening, my honey and I took a walk on the Seven Mile Bridge to see the sunset.  I hope this isn't our last one, but things are about to get crazy busy getting Marquesa ready and moved to her summer/fall home on the canal on Angler Drive.  I have only five sunsets left to savor before we head for home this coming Thursday.  Boo to that, too.

After our sunset stroll on the Seven Mile Bridge, we went to Sparky's for the "last" time to share a plate of hot wings, have a cold drink, and dance to the band in our flippie flops again.  Dancing with my honey always make me happy.  We need to do more of that back home in Indiana.

So, Donnie and Ken caught two black fin tuna today, out in the Gulfstream.  He was hoping for a dolphin fish (mahi mahi), that would have been a "first" for him, but beggars can't be choosers.  He had a great time with the boys, which may be the "last" fishing trip he gets to take this season.

Tomorrow it's back to the grind...not that I'm complaining!  The bad news is I plan to clean and oil the teaks topside, and if I feel really industrious, polish the stainless steel all around up top, too.  The good news is I get to do it in my bikini to catch some more Florida sun :)  Not a bad way to work....

Willis is already in bed; I need to go reclaim my spot.  G'nite, y'all!

Worst. Night. Ever.

or I could have titled this blog...

"The Weather Forecaster Sucks"

"Red at Night, Sailors Delight"

"Mr. Toad's Wild Ride"

"Marquesa was a Raging Bull"

"Thank God Agnes Didn't Crap Out"

"King Neptune was Fed a Snack"

"Sailing- 95% relaxation, 5% sheer terror and misery"

"This was not how this passage was supposed to go"

"My Husband is a Beast"

"8 foot seas and 30 knot winds"

"We Got our A**es Kicked"

or simply...

"Willis May Never Speak to us Again"


These are the thoughts that ran through my sickly semi-consciousness as we crossed the Gulf from Tuesday morning until Wednesday at noon.  There is good news in all of this...well, lots of it really.  The best news is that it is OVER, and we are safely tied to the dock back at Banana Bay.  The great news is Marquesa (and occasionally Bessie) handled it all beautifully.  The good news is what was supposed to have been about a 30 hour crossing, or more, was done in less than 27 hours.  Praise. the. Lord.

There will be very few pictures, because, well, I was not in the picture taking mood.  And I had no idea where my camera had landed in the warzone we call our living space.  I didn't even take a picture of the mess after we got tied down.  It was filthy and disgusting, compliments of a thrashing sea that leaked into our Vberth and Willis and I puking our guts up.  Yeah, it was THAT gross.  My husband is a saint....on so many levels.  That he offered, and willingly, cleaned up the puke-y parts- his stock value just increased that much more.  More importantly, though, he stayed steadfast and true as Captain of Marquesa, for 27 hours straight. Unbelieveable.  I was completely incapacitated with seasickness.  I couldn't begin to take the helm.  I couldn't even feed him a sandwich or make him coffee after the sun went down.  (Why is everything WORSE at night?)  My man was up and awake, at the helm, or in the water, for 27 hours straight- without so much as a cracker from me.  I was curled in a ball in the corner of the cockpit, trying to stay out of the spray from the waves that occasionally crashed over us. Beyond the violent puking, I was so weak I could barely stand; my body was trembling all over.  To even sip water, sent my stomach in spasms.  The bottle of water that was next to me the entire trip, had but two sips taken from it. The crossing was just that. much. fun.

Let's back up to bedtime Monday night...

We had the alarm set for AIS 7:00am, but the wind HOWLED all night long Monday night.  Marquesa was bouncing off the dock at Whidden's Marina in Boca Grande.  (Did I mention that I LOVE that place?)  By about 5:00am, I got up to check and rearrange the docklines for the second time, and changed the alarm to 8:30am.  Not only were we not sleeping well, it was going to take some time for the waves to die down once the wind finally died down.  When we peeked our heads out at 8:30am, it was still blowing, but only at about 15 knots.  Donnie went to get ice, while I checked out the weather forecast a final time before we untied from the dock.  The forecast called for E/NE winds, 13-18knots, 1-2 ft seas.  Sounds perfect.  We were traveling about 150 miles due south, and just a click to the west, so it should be a comfortable ride.  With that wind and direction, we should be able to sail most of the way.  Here's where "The Weather Forecaster Sucks." 

Let me just say, I cross reference three different weather forecast websites, that are designed for mariners, and they all were saying essentially the same thing.  As I now reflect back to passageweather.com, there was a hint of 25-35 knot winds, but it was WAY OUT in the Gulf of Mexico, to the west of us, and appeared to be no where near the essential coastal waters where we would be sailing.  Even though it was E/NE winds, and the blow was to our west, I should have exercised caution, and known better.  I typically am the one who studies the weather routes, and then Cap'n and I discuss what we're seeing and make our decisions accordingly.  I am the one who errs on the side of caution.  Looking back, I should have suggested we sit tight with the kinfolk at Whidden's for one more day, to see if a blow developed onshore, and if so, to give it some time for the seas to settle back down.  However, we were also comforted by the thought of being able to sail by the light of a full moon, a high pressure system, and a cloudless night.  It would be easier to navigate any crab pot balls by the light of the moon.  On our trip up the coast, there were times we were sailing through a minefield of crab pots.  We knew they were out there, and we didn't want to wrap a prop in the dark of night.  So, for all of those reasons, we chose to go ahead and leave at 8:45am Tuesday.  Hindsight is always 20/20, they say.  As we backed off the dock, the kinfolk weren't even up yet to bid us goodbye.  The goats did bleat at Donnie one last time when he got ice, so I guess that qualifies as a "Fair winds, following seas." (which is kind of like "break a leg" in theater-speak, only different.)

If you remember, one of the reasons we diverted from Charlotte Harbor to Boca Grande was because of the Boca Grande Pass.  This is the deepest water passage from Pine Island Sound back out to the Gulf of Mexico.  From Whidden's Marina, we were only 1.8 miles to the pass.  This pass was very choppy, 2-3's.  The tide was beginning to turn and it is a narrow body of water that goes from about 10-12 feet, to over 50 feet deep.  This is where the famous tarpon fishing takes place in and around the Boca Grande Pass.  You can just imagine schools of big fish funneling through the narrow pass.  In fact, every weekend in May has a tarpon tournament scheduled.  In this picture above, we had just left the pass and were on the lee side of Boca Grande Island.  This is a restaurant 'lighthouse' that marks the south end of the island.  The clouds were leftover from the wind and rain on Monday night.  It was supposed to clear up by noon, and it did.  That part the forecasters got right.

This was taken early on Tuesday afternoon.  We spent the day sailing down the Gulf side of the outer islands- Boca Grande, North Captiva Island, Captiva Island and Sanibel Island.  Then we passed Ft. Myers Beach, Naples and finally Marco Island by about 10:00pm.  We were within 10 miles of shore most of the day, and could still see land.  Cell phone service was patchy at best.  It was a lovely day when this picture was taken.

 

Willis was using his litterbox in the cockpit, all was well.  Since the pee/poop/puke incident on our sail to Islamorada earlier this year, the boy is no longer trusted down below.  Better still, we can keep an eye on him this way, by having him in the cockpit with us on passages.   I want you to admire how clean and tidy the cockpit looks...this was no where near the case the following day.

So far, the winds were E/NE 13-18 knots as predicted...

Marquesa was sailing along beautifully, consistently between 6-7 knots and sometimes more with occasional gusts. On the right up by the spreaders, you can see our radar reflector.  Between this and the AIS we have on our VHF, we are as good as having a radar, which costs lots of B.O.A.T.S.

We were relaxed in our sailing, as we had clear waters ahead of us...until we unknowingly entered the first string of crab pots.  We were enjoying the sun, the breeze, reading a good book, Agnes was driving, and all of a sudden we slowed to about 3 knots.  What's up with that?  A quick look off the stern and we could plainly see the line of a crab pot we had picked up and were dragging.  A quick jump in the water by Cap'n, with one swipe of the dive knife, and we were back under way. 

After 5:00pm, the wind died, as it often does late in the day, even in Indiana.  We motor-sailed for about three hours until the sun set.  Willis has a love-hate relationship with Bessie, the engine.  He was beginning to feel a little sickly in the diesel fumes.  Poor little buddy.  For the first time this trip we were reminded of sailing Lake Michigan.  As we motored through the late afternoon, we got into a nest (swarm?) of little black flies.  (In Florida?  Off shore?  Biting black flies, really?)  Thankfully, I found two fly swatters I had squirreled away down below.  Cap'n won the contest, hands down.  In my defense, I gave him the bigger fly swatter! 

Just before sundown, the few clouds freshened the breeze and we were able to cut Bessie off.  It was looking to be a beautiful sunset on the water.

As the wind picked up, so did the waves just a little bit.  By the angle of this pic, we were heeled about 15 degrees and sailing at about six knots.  Just what we were hoping for- a perfect sail.

About this time, Willis did his first puke.  He went in his littterbox to do his other business, and he started meowing while he was in there.  As usual, he meowed just before he wretched.  The boy NEVER meows unless he is sick.  Thankfully, the first puke landed IN the litterbox.  I can feel his pain.  When I am in the head doing my business while were are underway, I start feeling puke-y, too.  It must be the closed space.  Or the yucky head/litterbox smell that does us in.  I took Willis' meowing  as a warning- I went down and took the first (of four) Bonine and put on my wristbands.  Supposedly the wristbands put pressure on our pulse point (which it does) to prevent seasickness (which it does not).

Beautiful sunset.  As soon as it set on the water, the sky was a lovely shade of pinkish/red.  "Red at Night, Sailors Delight"- yeah, right.  The building wind and waves were merely a foretaste of what was to come. Trust me, there was NO delight on Marquesa that night.  This is the end of the photos, friends.

By 10pm that night, we were passing Marco Island.  The seas were up to 3-4's with the occasional 5 footer rolling under the keel.  It was beam on, the direction we wanted for the wind, but not necessarily the waves.  We toyed with the sails trying to find the comfortable sweet spot, as it was definitely becoming more uncomfortable.  The helm was tight, and Cap'n was having to hand steer.  It was too stiff for me to take over.  Agnes couldn't hold our course either.  It was all I could do to manage the helm while Cap'n went on deck to reef the main. twice.  We tried one reef in the main, a double reef in the main, main only, jib only, half a jib, etc.  All the while, the wind and waves continued to build.  We put on the weather channel on the VHF at about 10:30pm.  The original forecast called for the winds to abate at midnight.  Ok, we can do this; it's all good.  We're under a double reefed main and half jib, still flying between 6.5-7.5 knots.  Just a few more hours and things should settle back down.  My stomach was locked up, but I'm not puking. yet.  I was, however, making multiple trips to the head with other problems, a nervous bladder being one of them.

For the second time, this passage was reminding us of the passage we had coming down from the U.P. on Lake Michigan.  We reminisced about our overnight sail with Emily, Ellen, and Simon (Willis' BFF of a dog) on our Chrysler 22' many years ago.  We left Manistique under a star-filled night after a rain shower had passed through earlier that day.  We left at 10pm for an easy overnight passage to Northport- or so we thought.  By midnight, we caught up to the storm, and were in a 6-8' following sea- with tiller steering.  The girls and I had an overactive bladder, naturally, and had to cave in and pee in a bucket and toss it overboard.  Repeatedly. There was no bucket to be found on Marquesa.  (How do we have a sailboat with no useable bucket on board?!)  If there had been one, I would have used it. Gladly.  Trying to get up and down the ladder, through the boat, to the head, while it was thrashing about, (with two broken toes, mind you) was not the passage I had hoped for when we left on Tuesday morning.  In fact, being in the head alone, made me feel even more sick.  I used to think that night on Lake Michigan was our Worst. Night. Ever.  I even wrote an article about it and had it published in a sailing magazine.  This night didn't begin to compare.  I would have GLADLY taken a following sea, and surfed down the waves.  At times, the waves were higher than our tallest lifeline on Marquesa, which is at least six feet from the water line.  For a few minutes, we discussed turning back toward Marco Island and tucking into the beautiful little anchorage at Factory Bay.  It sounded so inviting.  But, the reality of pounding into these 3-5's for 7-10 miles, was beyond uninviting.  It would have slowed our speed to a crawl, because we could have been doing more up and down then moving forward.  Getting to Marco would have taken hours.  I would have been sick for sure, and at this point I only FELT sick, and was sent stumbling onto the head repeatedly.  We just needed to deal with it until midnight. The wind was supposed to abate then.  This trip had quickly become "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride."

By 1am, we were under a double reefed main and just a SCRAP of jibsail- like a handkerchief.  The waves were definitely 5-6's, with the occasional 7-8 footer greeting us on the side, or crashing over the bow and spraying all the way back into the cockpit.  "Marquesa was a Raging Bull", charging through the waves like a champ.  She reminded me of a racehorse being let out of the starting gate.  She charged and reached and drove through the waves like a pro.  Not for a minute did I question her ability to take the wind and weather. In this regard, I completely trusted the boat.  I knew she would take care of us.  At this point, though, in one of my trips to go down to the head, (for like the 57th time), my stomach finally cut loose.  Violent, projectile vomiting.  Oh no, this passage was now the Worst. Night. Ever.  In addition, Marquesa picked up at least three or four crab pot balls during all of this, which would slow us to a momentary crawl.  The next violent wave would crash us or lift us up and the crab pots thankfully slid off.  This happened several times between midnight and 2am.

By 2am we were in 6-8' seas, with winds 25-30 knots.  Waves were crashing around us and over us. In the light of the moon, you could plainly see the froth and foam of an angry, confused sea. "Thank God Agnes Didn't Crap Out."  With a double reefed main and handkerchief of a jib, Agnes (the autopilot) could hold our course.  Cap'n's back was getting so tight from the hand steering, that he was asking me to take the helm, even for a few minutes.  I couldn't do it.  I could barely stand up.  My whole body was trembling like I was in shock.  I know I was really dehydrated, but I couldn't do a thing about that, either.  A few sips of water sent my stomach in spasms.  I didn't even have the strength to get down below another time to find some ginger ale.  On each bathroom trip prior to finally getting seasick, I was taking Bonine, which did absolutely no good.  Even though Cap'n was finally able to use the autopilot, I couldn't let him leave the helm for a minute, even if it were to get a ginger ale for me.  I was also afraid for Willis, who was just as seasick.  Even more so, though, Willis was scared.  Like me, the poor little buddy was also trembling all over, too. I felt so bad for him- that we got him in to this mess- that I couldn't bear to keep him in the cockpit with us any longer.  The wind was HOWLING, things were BANGING, waves were CRASHING, and he was SCARED.  I had Cap'n pitch him down in the cabin below. At least he could find a hole to curl up in where he would stay dry. 

From midnight until about 2am, ("the weather forecaster REALLY sucks"), we were keeping a close eye on the dinghy by the light of the stern.  It was thrashing right along with us.  Sometimes Marquesa would be up, and the dinghy would be down, but she seemed to be taking it alright.  The problem, however, was the motor.  Cap'n had it lashed upright, good and tight, but one of the bolts had broken free, and it was laying on its side, half in the water, threatening to swamp and sink the dinghy.  By 2am, Cap'n couldn't take it anymore.  He knew something had to be done.  I wanted to cut loose the whole dinghy.  Yes, it was brand new.  Yes, we paid $800 for it.  (which really is a bargain).  In my mind, though, Cap'n's life is worth FAR MORE THAN $800.  It went against every fiber in my being to let Cap'n try to step off the buckling bronco, and into the dinghy, in 8' raging seas.  Bad things were bound to happen.  Of all the bad scenarios I could trump up in my mind in about 30 seconds, I was ill-prepared, and quite frankly, unable and unwilling, to deal with any of them.  Trying to do a man overboard drill (but for realsies) so sick and in this ridiculous wind and seas, was a no-go in my book.  I could not convince Cap'n otherwise.  My frugal husband would not consider cutting the whole dinghy loose.  Trying to bring the dink along side Marquesa to perhaps do something was also out- we could have done serious damage to Marquesa in the process.  Despite tears and begging and pleading, my husband donned a life vest, grabbed an adjustable wrench and an emergency beacon (in case he went over, I could spot him), put down the ladder and made a jump for the dinghy, trying to time the up and down motion just right.  I'm sobbing, at the helm, and can barely watch.  He FELL into the dinghy, and thankfully, when he hit, he didn't bounce out.  He unscrewed the second bolt, and pitched the damn thing into the Gulf.  Thus, "King Neptune was Fed a Snack."  (And you thought I meant my puking overboard, right?)  Truth be told, the motor was over 40 years old (I told you my husband is frugal), it hasn't ran right in some time, and it had gotten progressively worse on this trip.  We would go exploring in the dinghy and it died on us repeatedly.  It started hard. It ran hard. It just plain sucked.  On this trip, we had already decided that this summer we would shop for a new motor for the dinghy, so it was of no great loss to pitch it into the Gulf of Mexico. If something would have happened to Cap'n in the process, though?  I couldn't have bared that kind of loss.  Unthinkable.

By 3am, I realize the cat's litterbox is still in the cockpit, and he is somewhere in the mess down below.  In all the pitching and rolling, pans flew out of the oven, all of our clothes went flying all over our stateroom, and general stuff and things were dislodged from their traveling spots.  It all was in a mess on the salon floor.  I was convinced that Willis needed his litterbox, so Cap'n got up from the helm to take it down below for me.  I was curled in a ball in the corner of the cockpit at this point, and could not get down the ladder one. more. time.  Just as Cap'n lifted the box up and over the companionway boards to go down the ladder, the handle on the litter box broke.  I kid you not.  Cat litter, and cat shit, and clumps of cat piss, and even cat puke was now all over the mess that's already over the floor down in the salon.  Screw it.  I am not going down there, and Cap'n was needed back at the helm.  I'll deal with it later.  Much later.  They say "Sailing is 95% relaxation and 5% sheer terror/misery."  Truthfully, I was never really afraid (except when Cap'n got in the raging water).  I didn't like the howling wind.  I didn't like the waves.  But I wasn't really afraid.  I trusted Cap'n, and I trusted Marquesa to take care of us.  But when the litterbox contents went flying all over the warzone that was my home, and I was so beyond sick with seasickness to do anything about it, THAT was misery, y'all.  Remember, I'm a little on the OCPD side ;)

By 3:30am, we snagged another crab pot.  Are you freaking kidding me?  We slogged at about 2.5 knots for a good 15 minutes, which was really beating us up with waves.  Cap'n had no choice.  I had no choice.  He had to go in the water, AGAIN.  No amount of crying or begging or pleading was going to change this decision of his, so I didn't.  But, he couldn't wear a life vest and still get under the boat.  And there's no place to put an emergency beacon in your birthday suit.  Armed with his dive mask and knife, he let down the ladder again.  Against my better judgment, Cap'n was leaving his boat for the second time in over an hour.  (Will this night ever end?)  "This was Not How This Passage was Supposed To Go."  While Agnes held our course, I held the 100 gazillion candle watt spotlight (Thank you, Mike and Suzie), and Donne hung off the end of the ladder looking like a flag on a flagpole.  I was praying he would not lose his grip with just one hand on the ladder, and the other on his dive knife.  He kicked his way up and under the boat, and with one swipe of the knife, he cut the crab pot free.  Praise Jesus.  He handed me his knife, and I turned off the spotlight so I wouldn't blind him as he got back on the boat.  I then freaked out for the second time.  After I made my way back in the cockpit and put the dive knife back in his holder, I thought he was right behind me.  I turned around, expecting to see him in the cockpit, tying up the ladder for the second time.  I had a towel in my hands ready to hand to him.  Only, the ladder was still down, and he was no where in sight.  Oh. My. God.  I tripped and fell over myself trying to get to the back of the boat to look for him.  I'm yelling for him, but he can't hear me over the wind and the waves...we are quickly coming back up to speed minus the drogue of the crab pot.  I'm thinking, "There's no way he can hang on in these waves at this speed."  I'm yelling for him, scrambling to get back to the stern.  I look down at the water, and as my night vision adjusted, I see him.  He's simply squatted down on the ladder, taking advantage of the moment to do his own business.  If I weren't so relieved to see his bare butt, I could have killed him.  Dude, you have GOT to communicate with me!  Lord have mercy. 

All I can say is 57 years old, five stents in his heart, and after two heroic efforts in less than two hours (on no food and no sleep), "My Husband is a Beast."

And so it went on, the rest of the whole entire night. "8 Foot Seas and 25-30 Knot Winds."  Occasionally, there were gusts even higher.  It was so LOUD, y'all.  I can't imagine being in the 100+ winds of a hurricane.  Those of you who know me well, know I hate all LOUD things.  This is a girl who loves the quiet.  Who lives for the quiet- either in a log cabin in the woods, or at sunset on the water- anywhere.  This wind was so loud and so violent, that it tore a hole in our bimini, and it blew down our radar detector sometime in the night.  We found the radar detector after the sun came up; it was lodged in one of the bimini rails.  As for the bimini, I had already been in contact with Laura (the canvas lady who sewed our new dodger and helm cover this year) before we left for this trip.  She will be making us a new bimini when we get down here after Christmas next year.  For the record, we already have about two extra B.O.A.T.S. to save up for next season- a decent used motor for the dinghy and a new bimini.  And we aren't even back home or back to work yet. It's only money.

Agnes continued to work all through the night and into the next morning.  (Thank you, Peter, for bringing her back to life when you were here in February!)  After sunrise, the wind and waves FINALLY abated.  It still blew a steady 15 knots, but we were much more comfortable under a double reefed main, and full jib.  As we got closer to the Keys, the waves dropped to all but a moderate chop.  There IS a God!  I finally went down below to survey the mess, and to make Cap'n a well deserved breakfast (A hot pot of coffee and a pop tart, lol).  I had no interest in eating yet, but Willis was making a recovery and wanted his breakfast too.  I scooped up what litter I could, threw the clumps overboard, and got him settled back into the cockpit with us.  In spite of everything being covered in a salty grime from the waves and salt spray, the cockpit was the cleanest place on the boat.
My stomach was still too locked up eat anything, or to care about cleaning up the mess down below. 

The rest of the morning, it was an easy and pleasant sail back to Banana Bay.  Willis and I dozed some, and Cap'n even closed his eyes for a minute or two, while Agnes toiled away. We arrived back in Marathon at 12 noon, making nearly 150 miles in 27 hours.  Donnie's first words to Paul, the dockhand, as he tossed him our lines were, "We Got our A**es Kicked."  While Paul and I were still adjusting and securing the dock lines, in Marquesa's home slip #34, Willis immediately bolted from the boat and made a beeline for the mangroves.  "Willis May Never Speak to us Again."

So, all is well aboard Marquesa....now the clean up begins.  The plan is to stay here at Banana Bay this week taking care of the last of the projects, catching some sun at the pool, and enjoying our last week with friends.  We plan to move the boat over to Angler's Drive on the canal next Tuesday, and hopefully have the Jeep packed and headed for home on Thursday or Friday at the latest.  At any rate we will be back home, in Indiana, the first weekend in May.  G'nite, y'all!

Two days and a step back in time on Boca Grande

 

So, we left Cabbage Key on Sunday morning, bound for Charlotte Harbor and the Burnt Store Marina.  The problem was we would have had the wind on our nose pounding into the waves for 10 miles.  We diverted to Boca Grande, also known as Gasparilla Island.  It feels like an island that time forgot.  This is Whidden's Marina, built in 1925.  I don't think it's seen a paint job since the grand opening!  Where in the world are we???

The first marina we called, Boca Grande Marina said they didn't have space for us.  They catered to the rich folks, unlike Whidden's which they described as "quaint".  I'll say it is.  You wouldn't find this beautifully restored Chris Craft at Whidden's, no siree bob.

The old momma Whidden, who's father built this marina in 1925, invited us to look around the place...visit their gift shop and the museum.  This was the gift shop.  No joke.  A few Tshirts and some sea shell trinkets.  Oh, and a grocery cart of books that were 2 for a $1.00.

In and amongst the 'gift shop' were relics from an era long ago.  The whole place was a museum....if you could get past the dog and cat hair and the dust. and the filth.

There were some cool finds in this place, if you looked closely.  I wish I had snapped the picture of her father that was hanging on the wall.  It was of him on the dock in 1925, with a 2500 lb. manta ray!

These are some of the characters (locals) associated with Whidden's- many of whom are related.  They were all gathering on the dock for the big weigh in.  We pulled into the marina about 10 minutes before a whole slew of fisherman returned in their boats from a big redfish tournament they were hosting.  Note the guy in the lazyboy in the red hat...funny story about him later.

I must say it was pretty cool to crash their party and all of the excitement. Just look closely at all of the signs and 'decor' and what not.  Every corner you looked there was another relic to discover!  I felt like this place had been lifted from the hills of Kentucky or Tennessee and dropped off on this gorgeous....W.E.A.L.T.H.Y. island.  It was such a dichotomy.

One of the redfish being taken in for the weigh in...notice that Donnie found someone to talk to. Imagine that!

Here's the guy calling out the official weights and measures, as the fishermen all gathered 'round.

The tournament was an annual event to raise money for the museum...I was a bit confused actually.  The whole marina was a museum.  It literally looked like a time capsule.

One of the 'museum displays'

This was the flyer hanging on the ship's store door...they had lots of prizes for various catches...we saw them in the 'museum'.  One of the prizes was a giant stuffed giraffe.  I couldn't make this stuff up.

Here's the sign in the parking lot...love the spelling.  and the antique something or another overgrown with weeds.

Marquesa looked very out of place in this little fisherman's marina.  Ironically, we would have looked equally out of place amongst the power yachts at the place next door.  They had two slips available, by the way. We saw them when we went next door to have lunch. "We're full" my a**!  Freakin' liars.  We missed the start of the tournament when all of the fishermen headed out.  There must have been some sort of memorial service that morning as there were roses floating in the water. 

We rented a golf cart from the high fa-lootin' marina next door, and decided to take a tour of this island.  It is only about six miles long total.  We saw these people walking down town and I thought, "Wow, time really does stand still here."  And then we asked them what their period dress was all about.  It was a Civil War encampment.  It seems there's a week long Civil War symposium that is going on...a benefit fundraiser for the Historical Society.  Funny story....old momma Whidden (Isabelle Joiner- she's 79, toothless, very obese, and no longer walks) told us that "Oh yeah, they BELONG to the historical society."  The marina is the oldest business on the island that is still under original family ownership. "But we aren't invited to any of the meetings and they never mention us in their newsletter either."  Is that so?  I picked up a Visitor's Guide to Gasparilla Island.  It was 76 pages of detailed information on the history of the island; a story on each of the churches and businesses.  It was interesting reading, really. Wouldn't you know, on page 50, Whidden's Marina garnered all of four sentences, one of which indicates that they are on the National Register of Historic Places.  Now I'm getting a different feel for this place.

On our golf cart tour, we stumbled upon Banyan Street...it was gorgeous, y'all.  The end of the street opened out to the Gulf of Mexico.  The banyan trees were planted in 1914, as ordered by Peter Bradley, the original owner of the Gasparilla Inn and the railway that connected Boca Grande to the mainland.  The inn opened in 1911, and though it has changed many hands and gone through several expansions and renovations, it is a beautiful place.  Really, the Inn is the "Grand Dame" of the island.  It has it's own private marina, an 18 hole golf course, tennis courts, cottages, etc.  Check them out at http://www.the-gasparilla-inn.com/ where you can stay for $1275/night in the Presidential Suite.  The likes of the DuPont's, JP Morgan, Henry Plant, the Cabot's, Drexel's, and others have all vacationed here back in the day.  In fact, JP Morgan died at the Inn.

The whole Gulf side is one continuous strip of beach...though much of it is "privately owned."

Another beautiful sitting spot in front of one of the big, fine homes.

The southern point of the island is landmarked by the Boca Grande lighthouse, marking the Boca Grande pass.  We are 1.8 miles from the pass, which will empty us back into the Gulf.  We are presently on the eastern side of the island, known as the Pine Island Sound side.  We plan to sail past this light house at daybreak on Tuesday morning....wind and weather permitting.

My and my honey being all tourist-y in our snazzy golf cart!

 

Funny story about these three streets...legend has it that back in the day, a tax collector came around looking for a certain individual and his home.  The fisherman who answered the door was none too pleased to see the tax collector.  When asked where Mr. So-and-So lived, his response was "Damn if I know."

When the tax collector then asked, "Well, what street do you live on?"  His response?  "Damn if I care."

The tax collector, realizing he was getting no where, then asked for directions to another individual's home to which he replied, "Damn if I will".  So there you have it.  There are three streets, Damfino, Damficare, and Damfiwill.  Not surprisingly, they are all on the other side of the tracks by Whidden's Marina.  Is the picture becoming even more clear?

One of four little churches on the island...none of them must have a congregation of more than 50 people.

We then carted ourselves to the most northern point of the island to see the old railroad trestle that serviced the island.  The oak timbers were HUGE...like none I have ever seen.  Part of the old trestle has been resurfaced for a public fishing pier.

From the pier, you can see the causeways that now service the island...marked by the two cranes.  They were built in 1952 and completed in 1958.  It includes a swing bridge at the center.  The only 'car traffic' on the island prior to that were cars that were ferried in on ships or on the railway.  The bridges are now undergoing extensive renovations.

We stumbled upon Jose, who just happened to catch a redfish as we walked up.  He was so excited, it was adorable.  He said his momma will be so happy that he was bringing home dinner for a change!  I guess redfish are good to eat?

Saw this pretty blooming cactus growing out of the trestle

Then we delivered our golf cart to the fancy pants marina next door, and walked ourselves back to Whiddens.

I have NEVER been to a marina that had goats.  and pigs.  I seriously cannot make this stuff up.  Wowzer.

Willis was sequestered to the boat during our stay here.  I didn't want a stray animal eating him.  He was content on the boat, to say the least.  Such a sassafras.

Last night it RAINED for hours.  I was up from 3-5:30am as we bounced off the dock, I tended to some random leaks, we lost power, and Cap'n snored through it all.  We had 5 inches of rain, y'all.  The dinghy was half full.

Since it had stormed so, I was anxious to go to the beach for some shellin' this mornin' :)

I love little sandpipers!

We walked through town, window shopping and searching for a place to have lunch.  There was lots to choose from.

love this sign :)

Don't know what it is, but it's another pretty-ful flower.  I need to learn my tropical plants.

We stumbled across this beautiful garden sanctuary, but had no change on us to make a wish in the fountain.

The archway was fragrant with what smelled like orange blossoms.

After our lunch at PJ's SeaGrille, we took an afternoon dinghy ride to see what we could see of the island from the water.  We saw this dolphin up close and real personal!

We saw LOTS of beautiful old boats that have been lovingly restored.

And back to the "other side of town" we saw this guy in his dinghy who looked like relation to the Whidden's or the Robertson's- I'm not sure which.

And there's our Marquesa, who doesn't even fit on the dock!  At only $50 bucks a night, we're not complaining!

And this is the Whidden relation, all sitting out at the marina shootin' the breeze, and smacking noseeums.  Back to the fella in the red hat (that I mentioned earlier)...same clothes, same chair, different day.  The little boy had just let go off one hellacious fart and the old feller says, "Way to let 'er rip, tater chip!"  And the gal in the lawn chair was giving her aunt a lesson on how to start a Hotmail account.  She's explaining how you make up a name and password, and that you then have to answer security questions, like "What is your father's occupation"  And she told her aunt that she typed in "prison".  I swear to you...I am NOT making this stuff up.

I was sitting at the side of the dock, trying to get a better WiFi signal, and this HUGE heron stopped by.

...as did this egret.  I then realized I was by the bait barrels, and they were looking for a handout.  Actually, I had to move my laptop as the shrimp kept jumping out onto the deck.  The birds were on to them.  Each time it happened, I shrieked a little, and then swatted the shrimp back into the canal with my flip flop.  I'm sure the 'tater family thought I was nuts.

My sweet hubby took care of some boat maintenance on the portholes I was having trouble with in the storm last night, then he came to the marina to check on me and buy a cold beer. 

He snapped random pictures of this place.  I don't know what science experiment they had going in that 'aquarium'.

The place is 'decorated' with about 100 pots of dead plants.  And two 800 lb. sows out back, next to the goats.

 

This is the master plumbing to the outdoor shower facility...which I have not used.  Donnie took his morning shower with a hermit crab and goats peeking in through the slats.

It looked respectable enough on the outside...

But it's right next to the 'family laundry facility'- not open to marina guests.

The building has definitely seen better days. 

Nobody closes a door...the cats and dogs can see themselves out to potty that way.

...as I sat working on uploading pictures, next to the random shrimp jumping to safety.  But you know what?  Truthfully?  I LOVED this place...and all of it's "rustic quaintness."  The people here are REAL.  They have hearts, and souls, and values, and families...and they were the nicest people we've met in a long time.  They treated us like family; made us feel welcomed.  There was no pretense to these folks.  In fact, I felt far more at home with these folks over many of the townspeople we passed who wouldn't even respond to a "hello".  What I find so crazy on this little island, is that the filthy rich folks NEED these people here...to do their housekeeping, and landscaping, and to be service workers in the stores and restaurants in the little village.  You'd think they'd treat them a little more kindly, but it is obvious by their gated neighborhoods with 20 ft. tall hedges, that they clearly do not allow themselves to associate with THOSE people.  It's a shame.  Despite being shunned, as I am sure they have been, the Whidden's are mighty fine folks.  You should stop in and see them sometime.  Tell them Donnie and Karyn on Marquesa send our warmest regards. I wish them nothing but the best.

Late in the day, Cap'n suggested we take a final walk on the beach to watch the sunset.  We saw this little fella along the way.  His colors were beautiful.

That sweet husband of mine suggested I spend the last hour of sunlight combing through the seashells.  One of my favorite things to do.  As I did, I was humming every gospel song I knew.

He simply sat and read a book...letting me do my own thing without a rush.

...and then we paused to watch a glorious sunset together...and it was a green flash!  I could not make this stuff up.  It was a perfect end to our little Gulf coast cruise of Florida.  AIS is 7:00am- we'll be casting off the docklines here at Whidden's.  It's about 130+ miles back to Marathon, which looks to be about a 30+ hour sail, depending on the wind and weather.  Conditions look really favorable- we checked again this evening.  I am a little concerned though, as the wind has picked up since I've been writing this.  We are currently bouncing into the dock.  Hmmm...there wasn't any more rain in the forecast.  We'll have to double check the weather again in the morning.  With God's grace, we'll have a safe, uneventful passage back.  We should arrive at Banana Bay sometime Wednesday afternoon.  Until then, G'nite y'all :)