From the Mountains to the Sea: Voyaging Part 1

Key Largo to Charleston - 500 miles - 3.5 days

We departed Key Largo on Thursday morning at 3:00 AM. Why 3? For some reason it's become our agreed-upon appropriate hour of departure. Cody took the first watch while I caught a couple extra hours of sleep - probably the only reason why I've agreed to our agreed-upon departure time. We quickly progressed into the gulf stream, where we got 4 free knots from the current. We made good progress with a southeastern wind, generally trying to stay out of the sun. We heard that the heat index was up at 105. Hot hot hot. For some reason now, I can't remember much of our first day. We started a log book, but after the first night I was the only one filling it out so it was, unsurprisingly, quickly abandoned. My note in the "comments" section coming off watch on Thursday afternoon was, "F#$%ing hot." At one point I saw a fin emerge off the starboard bow, and a large black shape moving just below the surface. "Cody! A dolphin, or shark, or whale or something!" I said. As we passed 6 feet away from it we saw that it was a big whale shark! 15 feet long, very cool.

There were some thunderstorms rolling around the Florida coastline that evening but we threaded a couple needles and never got caught in one. At West Palm Beach we diverted out of the strongest path of the gulf stream and paid a price for it when we were becalmed the next day. We were moving at an excruciating 1 knot for a couple hours as we tried to make our way further west and into the stronger currents. The gulf stream may throw some wacky weather at us, but nothing is worse than being becalmed, in Florida, when it's 105 degrees. We folded out the bed and lay around the cabin, letting the autopilot guide us and popping out every 20 minutes or so to watch for boat traffic (you know what voyager Larry Pardey said about being becalmed? Es tiempo por amor.) The wind picked up later in the afternoon, and between that and the current we were ripping along at 10+ knots. Cody had been dragging a fishing line and we caught a little bluefin tuna as I was beginning to cook dinner. We probably wouldn't have kept it but it had a rough trip back up to the boat and was, well, dead by the time we pulled him in. We had one of our nicest dinners of the trip - blackened tuna, red beans and rice, and steamed kale. Pretty classy.

I took the first watch of the night while Cody tried to get some sleep. The wind and seas built as the sun fell and I performed my first solo-sail-reefing. Eventually the wind was gusty enough that I wanted to drop the jib, but this time I woke Cody up to help me out, then he went back to sleep. Running on only the reefed main we were still moving along at 8+ knots, so I figured we were making good progress. Too much time spent staring at the compass made me a little seasick, so I awakened Cody an hour before the end of my watch and crawled into bed.

The wind dissipated throughout the night and by the time I relieved Cody in the morning we were flying full sail and had slowed down a bit. We continued to lose speed as we once again met those mid-morning doldrums. At this point we were 80 miles off the coast of the Georgia/Florida border and still 160 miles from Charleston. Still, we were moving with the current. Again we hunkered in the cabin during the afternoon, avoiding the blazing sun. The wind and seas picked up earlier in the day, and we were happy to be moving along at 10 knots again. Cody was taking a nap in the cabin while I stood on deck enjoying the cooler evening air and our speed. I saw a black fin emerge just ncxt to the starboard pontoon, then other off port. Dolphins! We were moving at 9 knots and they were swimming alongside us, keeping pace! They moved behind us and raced along in our wake, and I could see that they were spotted dolphins. "Cody!" I kept calling him, but he was dead to the world. Finally I knew I had to get him, this was so cool! I shook him awake - he thought that something must be terribly wrong at first - and told him to come look at these dolphins. Of course by then they were gone. And I learned a valuable lesson - don't fall overboard while Cody's sleeping, he won't hear your screams.

Haha.

Anyway, Cody took the helm at 10 or so after we'd reefed the main to keep the boat from lurching around too much in the 20+ knot gusts. I slept until 3:30 AM, then came on deck to give him a break. He had reached the Hallucinatory Stage of sleeplessness, and once on deck I saw that all along the South Carolina coast, about 30 miles away, were massive thunderstorms with nonstop lightening strikes. Nonetheless I sent him below to sleep and I reduced our sail hoping that by the time we reached the shore the storms would have dissipated. The sun rose and I could see that they hadn't. Oh well. As I tracked the movement of the storms in front of us I saw that we were going to get hit no matter what course I took (if you don't count going backwards). I decided to drop sail altogether and just motor. I went below to tell Cody that I'd be starting the motor (he'd been asleep about 2.5 hours at this point). I gently shook him awake and told him my plan. He groggily replied, "Are we on a bouy or at anchor?" I stifled a giggle and patted his head, replying, "We're underway, but you'll remember eventually." I motored for a bit, then decided that was stupid, so I just killed the motor and we both went to sleep in the cabin for 2 hours while Tri-oomph drifted around in the storms. We were out of any boat traffic and far way from anything to run aground on, so we figured we were safe. During our 2 hour nap we drifted about 1.5 miles southeast, but it was definitely worth it for the restful nap. By now we were only 26 miles from Charleston and surrounded by storms and choppy seas. Donning our foul weather gear we motor sailed with the reefed main until the wind became more favorable, then raised the jib and killed the engine.

We reached Charleston and dropped anchor by 3 in the afternoon, making out first leg of this return voyage an even 3.5 days to cover the 500 miles. We rejoyced in being out of Florida and back in Charleston, where we'd spent several days on the southbound journey. It almost felt like coming home. We walked the mile to downtown and got dinner at the bbq joint we'd eaten at with Noble when he'd been with us, then walked home (the boat) and got the most solid night of sleep I can remember ever experiencing. This morning we met a nice guy from Minnesota on a lovely steel boat with a little terrier mix named Butter who rides on the front of his kayak and then sits on his lap when he pedals his bike wtih her paws on the handlebars. It's amazing. I cannot wait to be with my dog again. Cannot. Wait. It's rainy and cool and it feels so flipping amazing to not be sweating and hot. Tropical Storm Bertha is passing well offshore, and when we head back out to sea tomorrow the most we'll see from it is some 5 foot seas.

The truth is that we were out in stuff the last couple days that is completely safe for a competent sailor, but would have scared the life out of me a couple weeks ago. I'm so happy with how we managed everything and worked as a team. I'm thrilled with how Tri-oomph handled everything, and I'm happy to say that I am understanding what she has to say, instead of just trying to intuit what needs to be done (like being able to feel from the handling if sail needs to be reduced or trimmed, rather than having to guess or ask Cody). We could not have done this trip without our amazing autopilot, a Raymarine ST1000 we've named Martha. Bless you, Martha.

Our next stop is Ocracoke, although there's a very good chance we won't stop at all. We'll go out and around the Frying Pan, around Lookout Shoals, and into Ocracoke inlet. From there we'll sail up the Pamlico Sound and motor through the Dismal Swamp Canal (I'm excited to see the lock operator, Robert, again and share danish and coffee with him again). From Norfolk, VA it's only 400 miles to Massachusetts, and we hope conditions allow us to make it in a straight shot. Through the canal, across Massachusetts Bay, and into Gloucester. It's too early to start thinking about the implications of the end of a fantastic adventure, but never to soon to get excited to see my dog.

You just can't beat the sunsets at sea.