Antares Cruising East

Wednesday, December 10, 2014. Engine won't start. John switched the battery indicator to "All" and that worked. The air temperature is 46 (perhaps that's the reason she wouldn't start), northwest winds 10-15 mph and diminishing, waves 5 feet and decreasing, clear skies, high today of 65, continual slow warming trend, outgoing tide. At first light it was 62 in the cabin, but after heating water for coffee and the frying pan for breakfast, it quickly rose to 66. We are riding the outgoing tide from Matanzas Pass and we breeze along the Ft. Myers Beach area. People are already walking the beach wearing long pants and jackets. We are wearing layers of clothing and socks for the first time since arriving in Florida. Our course keeps us three miles off-shore with following seas and some white caps. Unfurling the jib helps with our speed, but not with the rolling. After 5 ½ hours, we see the Red-2 indicating the beginning of Capri Pass leading the way to Factory Bay at Marco Island. It's a tricky channel, but we know it now, and we ride the incoming tide to the well-marked, large protected anchorage. We averaged 7 mph over 6 hours and 41 miles. With no plans to go ashore, it is simple to drop anchor and prepare for the night. Days are getting short and we have a long way to go tomorrow. Never enter a port in the dark; it's just not wise.

Thursday, December 11, 2014. The engine is warming while John washes the anchor chain as he pulls it up from the sludgy bottom of Factory Bay. We have clear skies, 47, northeast wind at 5 mph. Our destination is Little Shark River, about 65 miles away. This is our longest run and we are starting before daybreak. There are flashing lights on the channel markers as we catch another outgoing tide and move along quickly with the engine barely in gear. The sun peeks over the horizon. About an hour out, I turn off the engine and we are sailing at 6.5 mph under jib and main, close reach, 15 degree heel. We set our coordinates to the Romano Shoal Light. Now all three sails are up, heading 168 degrees, averaging over 6 mph. Morning winds begin to ease off and by 10:45 am, we're down to 3 mph. With three good hours of sailing in, we fire up the engine again to reach the light before noon. We set the new waypoint for Little Shark River and the wind clocked around to be on the nose, 5 mph with 1-3 foot seas. As the seas ease up, our speed improves to 6.5 mph again. ETA will be 5:00 pm, with daylight to spare. M/v Trident, a small trawler, beat us to the anchorage, and another sailboat was already anchored up the river. We traveled 67 miles in 10 ½ hours, our longest day yet this season. It got very chilly as soon as the sun set. No mosquitos or gnats, but too chilly to sit outside tonight. I look out over the wildness here and see only our three anchor lights in the dark. Are we wise?

Friday, December 12, 2014. Getting under way at 7:00 am, John is washing the mud off the chain and anchor. There's a north wind, but it feels east in our little cove. We leave Little Shark River right after m/v Trident and head south. After 4 hours and 27 miles, we have mostly high, thin clouds with blue sky around the horizon. The sun is shining through enough to cast shadows and comfortably warm. We have a nice east wind, beam reach; the jib and mainsails are full; the sea is nearly flat. So why aren't we going any faster (than 6.7 mph)? Three trains of thought here: 1) We keep changing course to avoid the crab pots, thus slowing us down at every turn, 2) There is a current running opposite of us, and 3) God forbid! We're pulling a crab pot behind us! We keep sailing along when John sees the Seven Mile Bridge on the horizon about 13 miles ahead. We follow the markers to Moser Channel. That bridge is so impressive: its height, length, and curves all add up to a massive accomplishment in engineering. Crossing over the bridge or under the bridge makes no difference. It is awesome! AND there's quite a current running through the channel. Yes, the choice answer is #2: There's an inbound current right now that is very visible to boat traffic. Once we cross to the Atlantic side and turn east toward Boot Key, we pick up speed for the final two miles to the entrance to the mooring field.

We are assigned a mooring ball and lucky to have it. This place is always full during this season and they even have a daily cruisers' net on channel 68 to keep abreast of all that's happening here. John grabbed the ball and I began clearing the deck of all our gear (charts, binoculars, etc.) when he hollered out to me, "Here he is!" John's nature is usually calm, so I'm expecting some disaster. Next to us is m/v Leap of Faith, a mid-sized trawler. It just so happens, that we both just read the book: Trawler Trash: Confessions of a Boat Bum by Ed Robinson, who lives in Boot Key aboard his trawler named Leap of Faith. He also has a Facebook page called "Leap of Faith: Quit your Job and Live on a Boat" that I have been following for a while. I did not connect the two as being authored by the same person until on his Facebook page there were two photos of two sunsets with Antares in the foreground.
We headed to shore to register for a couple of nights here, get showers, and find a happy hour with half price appetizers and drinks. One negative about Marathon is that all the nearby restaurants are across the road from the marina and there is much traffic along this stretch of highway. We had to play dodge 'em to cross the street; were we the chicken or the 'possum!? Once inside, we sat down to a full meal. It felt good, we were hungry, and we could relax. We perhaps relaxed a bit too much. Outside, we had to recross that highway in the dark. The wind had picked up and it got chilly after the sun set. The dinghy light was terribly dim (forgot to check the batteries from last spring), it was too dark to see what we were doing, and the ocean spray was a shocker. At Antares, we had not put up the anchor light yet and had no flashlight with us. I got leg cramps and wasn't helping much at this point. We got things done, though, and all squared away when John got leg cramps. Is it our diet? Could it be the strain forced upon us by the cold and wet and dark? Could it be the stress of a long day sailing? What are the odds that we should both suffer cramps on the same evening? We were turned in by 8:15 pm. Getting old, are we?

Saturday, December 13, 2014. Today, we rest, we keep it light. A trip to the deli for lunch meat, bread, and rum, with a simple picnic planned. We made an impromptu stop at the Legion on the walk back where the Army-Navy game was in full swing and the beers were cheap. We planned to watch the Christmas boat parade then go to the music jam to round out the day. So we drop off the goodies and get the guitar..... then we stop. Wasn't it cold and wet last night? Bring the foul weather gear. How dark was the ride back? We have fresh batteries in the dinghy light and an extra flashlight on board. Won't the guitar get wet? Will there be extra dinghies and boats about the harbor because of the activities? We talked ourselves out of it. Instead we prepared to leave in the morning, pulled our dinghy aboard and completed all the other necessary tasks. We were ready to watch the boat parade by 6:00 pm with our binoculars and beverages in hand. We listened to the music jam from the warmth of our cockpit. We enjoyed the evening immensely, right in our own back yard.

I'll be researching for a 12 volt car charger for both AA batteries and laptop computer. Every time we use the inverter, it uses up too much of the battery power in the conversion from DC to AC (except when the engine is running). Amazon is amazing for finding such things. I know they're out there....

Sunday, December 14, 2014. Weather: 61 and clear, north to northeast winds, 10-15 mph in the morning, easing off in the afternoon. We get moving at 7:30 am and within two hours, we're sailing. There are fewer crab pots here in Hawks Channel or at least well-spaced. We are averaging 6.2 mph, beam reach, 265 degree heading, no weather helm; a wonderful sail on a wonderful day. Fat Albert is in the sky above Cudjoe Key (weather blimp), Navy jets coming and going. Not many boats, but enough to know that they, too, are having a fine day. At 3:09 pm, we arrive at our final destination for the winter months, Stock Island Marina Village. Looks the same, but there have been updates going on all year and we hope to take advantage of them all. C-Dock, we're home.