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March 14 - On the road again...
March 14 - On the road again...
Well, as the song said, we hit the road again. As is sometimes my custom, I'm working backward from the title to get to the present, but it suffices to say that we're aground, so to speak, for a while, and on the road... As we left you, Samuel, Lydia's son, had joined us for a few days, prior to our riding back to the most extreme NE part of GA for some family business. He'd elected to go fishing and sailing (smart move!) over a tour of Cumberland Island (GA/FL border). As he lives in GA, but we're very rarely, and even more rarely to come, in the GA area, sailing and fishing was more important than a tour of an island rich in history, scenery, horses and ruins, but one which he could reach in a few hours by car, if it became important to him, later. So, I did, in fact, raise the anchor, and, it seemed, the dead, at dawn, because at least one of the crew joined me, only a little hung over, on deck shortly afterwards, and we headed out from Fernandina Beach to the Atlantic Ocean under what looked to be great conditions. We caught the outgoing tide, which helped, and winds were moderate and in the direction we wanted to go. Unlike Lydia's other son Oliver's experience, we were not on top of the Gulf Stream, nor between a rock and a hard place, so to speak, with no meaningful reefs or Gulf Stream currents between us and the deep blue sea. As a result, neither the wind direction nor the weather conditions were of great consideration to our planning. Accordingly, we headed out into some very wonderful sailing weather. Had we been in Miami, we'd have been stuck, again, as we were during Oliver's visit, due to the very limited range of favorable conditions necessary for a short sail, given our mooring in the Miami Yacht Club basin, 2 hours from the Atlantic, and hard on Biscayne Bay - with nearly all of it an invitation to grounding for our over-6 foot draft - not the place to go for unfettered sailing!. Samuel got a taste of just about everything you could ask for, more of which anon, in sailing on this very short journey. Our first day started with moderate winds. We got a chance to try out our new sails, and gave our guest a chance to learn a little about sail handling and navigation, as well as pilotage. Sure enough, our new sails proved what bags we'd been previously laboring under, as we routinely were very close to the apparent wind in speed over ground on beam and close reaches. Light airs are a great test of the effectiveness of sails, and it appears we have done well with our specifications and selections. They're very heavy fabric, as we expect to spend the majority of our lives (remaining and sails') in relatively high-wind/high-ultraviolet (the major killer of sails) areas in the Eastern Caribbean, but despite that, they made a great showing in winds under 8 knots. It was a journey to nowhere, as we had to be back in Fernandina Beach for our haulout in a couple of days, so we just puttered around north and east of the St. Marys River channel - but we had a great time, trimming the sails to get the best out of the light airs, and steering to various points just for the exercise of it, with the accompanying sail handling/changes. We had a great, no-stress day, and Samuel got to experience just about every point of sail, tacking, gybing and otherwise skillfully maneuvering our heavy home. As he'd said he'd like nothing more than to just sit all day, with a pole in his hand, and a line in the water, we tried to accommodate him on that point, putting out the poles as soon as we cleared the no-license line (we had FL licenses, but let them lapse as we expected to be in deep water all the time when they expired). Of course, it's a bit challenging to have a pole in your hand and a wheel in the other, so we put them on the rail mounts, showing him how the alert worked to get him to come fetch, when it was time to pull in a fish. However... Despite our having the lines out with a variety of lures, and even sometimes with tuna for enrichment (we'd caught a bonito on one of our prior trips, and cut him up and tossed him in the freezer for just this sort of thing - no biting by anything) we got no takers for our offerings. For all that, the lines got retrieved fairly often, if for nothing other than to reload the bonito, and check for weeds, and he seemed to enjoy both the sailing and the "fishing" (what's it properly called when there are no fish??). As night approached, we thought to come back to the shoreline area north of the channel, and anchor off Cumberland Island. I don't know what the bottom is there, but it gave every indication that it was relatively smooth rock, because nothing and/or no place I tried managed to hook our 55# Delta - not even a little. If it had tried to grab, but just wasn't holding well, I'd have pitched out the secondary, a 75# CQR - but with no indication of a hook, that would have been relying only on the weight of the anchors and chains, something I was unwilling to accept. As we were relatively close to the channel, and the wind had shifted to the northwest, picking up very substantially, I made the decision to, instead, heave to for the night. We should have gone pretty much east while hove to... Unfortunately for us, the direction in which we traveled while hove to had us going right over one of the very big markers in the channel, as we traveled quite southeast - or, worse, on the other tack, in to the breakwater. This in addition to that the wind had not only picked up, but gotten very wet (it started raining on our first anchoring attempts, and then got very serious about it in short order). So, Samuel got a taste of nasty weather, contingency planning, heaving to, and, also, positioning. On the subject of heaving to, while it never came to that, he shortly became uncomfortable with the motion, and so took some Stugeron (the British - and pretty much the rest of the world's - wonder drug for motion sickness, available over the counter everywhere but the US) and laid out for the night just before we hove to for the night... Given the realities, I made the decision to get well clear of any potential involvement with hard points. We sailed east in lumpy water for quite a bit in order to insure that our heaving to on the port tack would not result in our potentially encountering the massive light at the end of the channel. Eventually, about midnight, in a very stiff and wet breeze, we hove to. Very comfortably, we sat there, nearly motionless (other than our slide to leeward), comfortable and dry, and slept soundly with the anchor and cockpit lights ablaze. When we arose to a brilliant day, later, we saw that we'd drifted nearly 20 miles while hove to. That very stiff breeze had managed more than 2 knots to leeward. Our contingency planning turned out to be slight overkill, as we missed the light by about 10 miles, but I was very much happier about that than I would have been to have found it in the middle of the night! So, we set about to making our return. Fortunately, by then, the wind was shifting again, and as we worked our way through the compass points, despite all the best that NOAA had to offer in the way of forecasts, it got lighter and more to the East. Super! A chance to break out the asymmetrical spinnaker and give it a try. Well, not a try, but a chance for Samuel to learn about that sail, too, as we've become very fond of it when the conditions are right. Up she went, but not for long, as the wind continued to moderate. It was pushing us closer to shore, though, generally the right way for us, so we just let it go along as it would, and threw out the lines again, hoping to entice some fish to join us for lunch or dinner. Eventually, however, it mostly just hung there, or flapped against the rigging, so we doused it and stowed it below. Perky, our "Iron Genny," came on, and we left the poles out as we headed to the channel entrance at a relatively stately pace. Fortunately for us, our route led right over a fish haven, and the breeze had picked up a bit, but from the north. That allowed us to take a brief diversion to zigzag across a very large piece of real estate in hopes of improving on yesterday's luck. Samuel and I plotted out our course to give us the largest coverage over the haven while still working toward our objective, and proceeded to work the wind and the sails for all they were worth, keeping our speed to a fish-friendly 5 knots or so. Sure enough, just when we thought we'd struck out again, just as we were about to exit the fish haven, it became apparent that we had something very big on our port reel. Samuel jumped to attention and grabbed the reel. Whatever was on the other end was running line out at a great rate, and he had to tighten the drag to keep it from unspooling entirely. We quickly dropped sails and did some turning to take the stress off the line while he reeled vigorously. About 2/3 of the way in, however, whatever it was jerked, and suddenly the line was slack. Retrieving the remainder revealed that the line itself had been broken, taking the leader and the lure together with whatever had hit it. Given that this was only 20# test, it may have been something huge, or not so big - but I can't break this stuff, at least not without a tool, so I imagine that whatever took the lure was fairly sizeable. Ah, well - the one that got away. It's as well, anyway, as we only had another night. We really weren't in a position to deal with a great deal of fish over and above what we could eat that night - but it sure gave us a thrill to play whatever it was for a while! So, wind on our nose, and not much of it, with the end of the day approaching, we motored in, traversing the channel and anchoring in a very handy spot quite a bit north of where we were when we last were hooked, to be closer to our haulout at Tiger Point Marina. As we were due for a 1PM lift, the tides in the area of Tiger Point Marina being such that slack water is the best way to deal with the lift basin and 1PM being slack water, we slept in, had a late and supplies-using (we're getting off the boat, recall, so don't want to pack out any more than necessary perishables) pig-out breakfast while we prepared the boat for the ground. Once we managed to haul our overstuffed selves out of our cockpit seats, we set about making Flying Pig ready for a layup, including potential high winds. As it turned out, St. Steven, who you'll recall from a prior log, suffered some damage - but much less than others in his marina! - when a tornado went right through his marina about a hundred miles north, upending docks and boats galore. Fortunately, at least at this writing, some time later, we've had no issues with wind. However, all the sails were tightly wrapped and counter-wrapped, dinghy extra-tightly bound, but with the bunghole down to allow for the inevitable rain accumulation to exit, and the like. I also did an oil change and other engine service items at this time, so we'd be ready to go on our return. We got the anchor up in good order, and proceded, early, to our rendezvous point. They were ready for us as quickly as they got another boat launched, and cautioned us on the breeze and current. Many owners have castigated Morgan 46 backing characteristics, but I've never found Flying Pig difficult. I've backed upwind through a winding channel full of boats on each side (carefully!!), so this didn't look to be too difficult. However, the current was still pretty strong, so I had to take a couple of go-rounds to get my line to my liking. Once I had the position like I liked it, I proceded to stick her butt in the well. I have to confess a very warm feeling remembering the shouts of "YAH!" and "AWRRIGHT!! from the nervous dockhands when Lydia handed off (not threw) the bow lines to the guys whose fend-off poles never left vertical despite their manic pacing. I didn't think anything of it, but I guess some of the other entrances to that well have been more - shall we say - entertaining... All that warm glow faded quickly, however, when it was realized that we were far too tall for the travel lift to get off over our arch. Before we'd arrived at that conclusion we'd offloaded all our stuff, hoisted, traveled a bit, and evaluated how far down we could put the keel. That took quite a while and in the meantime, the tide had changed and the current was in the other direction. However, back in the water we went, and I headed out, turned around, and got ready to go in forward. More backing and filling and lining up - it was actually a bit more difficult going in forward, due to what was now a strong current. Still, we arrived without incident and prepared to hoist. Oops. Still too much boat. We wound up removing the forestay, with its attached furler and genoa, as well as the inner stay, in order that the lift have the required clearance on the ground. Once that was in order, all went well, and Flying Pig found a new home for several months, on a cradle, secure through hurricanes, as it would be into hurricane season before we returned. Epilogue... We made our departure much later than we expected to, but arrived in the very far Northeastern corner of GA, less than a mile south of NC, that evening. We're house- and pet-sitting for some dear friends who left for 3 weeks when we arrived, and have just left for another couple of weeks. In between, they also went to China for 5 weeks, and a few other side trips, so our need for someplace to stay was extremely timely for them. As those of you who subscribe to Lydia's log know, being around the 2 dogs, 5 cats (and just recently 4 kittens) is quite a bit better than nearly anything you could name, so it was heavenly for her. We, on the other hand, came ashore to attend to many of our own non-sailing diversions. Both my and Lydia's daughters have given birth to grandchildren (well, THIER children, OUR grandchildren, lest there be some confusion on the matter!), the beginning and ending events to our stay. In the middle, we went to my father's 85th birthday celebration, and to Lydia's son's Air Force Basic Training graduation, both about 1200 miles in opposite directions from here! Marvelously, our hosts and our schedules intersected, so the times we were gone, they were here, and vice versa, so no pets went unsat, no garden unpicked, and all the rest which is so important to our hosts in their marvelous home. Lydia's finishing up helping her daughter make the transistion into motherhood, as I finish up boat-related stuff prior to our returning to Flying Pig. I have some items I need to put on eBay, and others I need to order. Both of our USCG Captain's paperwork minutiae have finally finished, and we've had our last medical questions attended to. All that remains is for Lydia's ear to sharpen, already hearing the plaintive squeals of Flying Pig, and feel comfortable in leaving her darling grandson. For my case, it's a little easier, as my daughter, grandson and husband have just decamped for Michigan, thus taking them out of our immediate vicinity. For those mariners reading this, one of my projects, now nearly finished, has been to transition from Sea-Tech's extremely powerful and feature-rich Navigation laptop and Cap'n Navigator Package to a 12V mini computer with separate screen. If you're in the market for one of the Sea-Tech Navigation packages, complete with the Cap'n package and the many other programs they load (as well as MaxSea and the entire NOAA chart catalog, along with everything down to Venezuela in the Cap'n charts, which I've loaded, plus other enormous amounts of bells and whistles related to the laptop and other programs), drop me a line, cuz it will go on eBay shortly if not. So, our time ashore draws to a close. We're very anxious (well, excited? might be a better word, as there's no anxiety) to get back aboard and do the minor boatyard chores we will finish before putting her back in the water. Once there, we'll do some sea trialing to make sure all is well, and, timing, weather and those sea trials permitting, will go directly to Maine, with the guidance of some forecasting professionals and perhaps crew as well. As schedules are very problematic, particularly when we have yet to set a date to leave here, we won't know for a while exactly when we'll be back aboard, let alone in the water or ready to leave. However, it looks from here, in the almost-summer part of June, like late June or early July. Once we're aboard, we'll be quite deliberate about our water time, as it's a very long way to Maine, and not much of it very close to shore. We'll take advantage of all the help we can before we leave and under way. Prudence will be with us, so to speak :{)) I'm assuming we'll find an internet connection before we leave, and will put out another log posting on the way out the door. We'll have Single Side Band and Ham Radio voice and data communications, as well as our satellite communication device called "SPOT" on which more in the next post, but those interested will be able to follow us as we go. So, as usual, stay tuned... L8R Skip Morgan 461 #2 SV Flying Pig KI4MPC See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery ! Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog and/or http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog "You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it however." (and) "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts." (Richard Bach, in The Reluctant Messiah) |