Unlikely Passage

We Found Our Lion's Paw

The kids did not make it through Captiva Pass. A large swell tossed the dinghy onto the skylight, cracking it right in the center and allowing the water to gush  into the cabin. The boat filled half-way

with water, Ben had to turn her around. They made it back to the protected anchorage behind Sanibel Island. After they had pumped the water out of the cabin, and wiped down the cabinets and the galley, they found a lion’s paw among the large collection of shells Nick had gathered. They had believed they would find one all this time. And they did. Based on Robb White’s 1946 novel The Lion’s Paw.

We found our lion’s paw as well. This trip around the tip of Florida has been all it promised to be, and more. A beautiful first day of motor-sailing up the coast, a day along the Intracoastal Waterway to St. Lucie, three days along the Okeechobee Waterway, with a night at anchor on the lake and the very scenic Caloosahatchee River, three days of phenomenal sailing in the Gulf of Mexico, our exploratory forays into the wilderness of the Everglades, crossing into the Atlantic through the Florida Keys, and the rough and challenging ride back up to Miami.

We talked, we yelled, we laughed. Everybody contributed. Thank you, Chuck, for sharing your vast knowledge and experience as a sailor and a techno-wiz. Thank you, Alexia, for the photography coaching sessions and the filled tomatoes. Thank you, Charles, for making everyone on board feel welcome and safe. I would not want to have anyone else on board with me when the going gets tough. Thank you, friend.

REJECTED

We left Miami Yacht Club at about 2:00 pm, heading out of the Port of Miami with its beautiful Skyline and its behemoth cruise ships lined up to take another throng of passengers into the turquoise Caribbean waters. The wind had shifted slightly south, but it was still blowing about 20 mph. By the time we were out of Government Cut, Sherpa was tossed from side to side, its nose dipping deep into the waves and currents of water gushing past us along the gunnels. I turned her around after another wicked swell nearly turned the boat on its side and a load of dishes and pots downstairs (yes, they were properly stowed) crashed from the galley to the backwall behind the settee. Poseidon had taught us a lesson last night that stuck: Don't push your luck, sailorman.

Well, there we are, back at the anchorage outside Miami Yacht Club between downtown Miami and Miami Beach. Actually, the marine forecasts do not look very promising all next week. So we've decided to leave Sherpa in Miami for a few days.

Charles is the last man standing, I abandoned ship (with all the other rats) in search for a hot shower, a refrigerator with an ice-cold beverage in a green bottle, and a big comfortable bed. Watch for my final blog tomorrow, though. I'll let you know whether or not the kids found a lion's paw. 

Photo by Werner H. Stemer 

LEAVING MIAMI

We leaving Miami heading home on the last leg of the trip to Fort Lauderdale where the Unlikely Passage started on March 19th. Before departing we took a MTA bus from the Miami Yacht Club and had lunch on Lincoln Road. (photos by: no photos, I'm tired)

SALT IN OUR TEETH

With intentions of stopping in Angelfish Creek, North Key Largo, we got really confident and decided to make a run for Miami. That would have been a good idea if it were 10 am, not 4 pm. Our course shifted more North allowing us to put the sails up and add a couple extra knots to our speed. We were clicking along at 6 to 7.5 knots and the sun was on our left shoulder and we were feeling good about our progress. At 6:30 pm we were passing Boca Chita on our left and the clouds were getting dark on our right. The wind began to blow harder, 25mph plus. We had to point the boat into the wind to drop the sails. Seas had increased to 6 to 8 feet. I dropped the main sail and the wind fought me as I tried to gather it and tie the canvas to the boom. Werner at the helm, held it into the wind but the boat became a trampoline and the boom a Louisville Slugger. Then the 45 lbs Fortress anchor became a beach ball bouncing around the stern as the seas were steadily increasing and coming at us from the side, rocking us from side to side. The sun decided to call it a day and all of sudden all these tasks had to be completed in the dark. We still needed to run 4 miles to the Gov’t. Cut buoys before we could find some shelter from the growing storm. The markers have two colors marking the channel, red and green, also some of the favorite colors that run along Ocean Drive that lies just behind the markers when approaching from the South. We were already running too close to shore because of the easterly direction of the swells, so we chose the first green marker out of the channel as our mark. Just to the other side was the jetty, death to any vessel. This trip has been an incredible adventure, traveling with wonderful people, seeing parts of Florida I’ve never seen and a four-day run in the Gulf of Mexico that any sailor would envy. But until 6:30pm tonight we never felt threatened. We were marshalling all the skills we acquired since we bought the boat exactly two years ago. We stayed focused and did a lot of communicating, fancy word for yelling, to make sure we hit our mark. We did survive and as we entered the channel and saw the city skyline and there was the victory high-five slap and the phone call to Chuck who arranged for a mooring at the Miami Yacht Club. Chuck met us there where we told our storm story and tapped the keg. Werner and I agreed the challenge of the storm was worth it, it help broaden the experiences of the adventure. We had only one question in the end, where was Alexia when we tapped the keg and told our stories.

Werner at the helm as the storm builds and the sun sets. We could see the city of Miami skyline for a an hour but the increasing storm clouds began to obscure its welcome mat.

With its hatches leaking and mast swinging, all of a sudden the 41 foot Sherpa shrunk in size compared to the increasing seas. Werner in full storm gear as the waves splash over the side of the boat and into the helm. The nose of the boat twisting right and left made the markers seem twice the distance.

We pass under the MacArthur Bridge in calm waters as we head to the Miami Yacht Club.

(photos by:Charles Trainor Jr.)

THE IRONS

3/30/2007 – 12:30 pm.  It’s rough out today, and the wind is right at our nose. No way to get the sails up. This is called the irons. You cannot sail into the irons. The only way is to tack at an angle of about 45 degrees off the wind. But Hawk Channel (between the Keys and the reefs) is too narrow for tacking. We would have to change direction (tack about) every few minutes. Instead we are motoring up towards Key Largo.

We came out of Islamorada at about 9:30 am and set course towards Hens and Chickens reef. From there we corrected a few degrees North, taking us past Tavernier and Rodriguez Keys. After another correction in about an hour or so in the middle of John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park (one of the most beautiful snorkeling and diving sites in the world), we will set course for Broad Creek and Angelfish Creek at the northern end of Key Largo.

The waves are pretty wicked and we are taking a steady saltwater shower off the bow. This is our punishment, I guess, for the most amazing sailing conditions we had earlier in the week in the Gulf of Mexico. As captain Rich Coolbaugh would say: "It is what it is. You've got what you got."

Here’s Charles practicing his best surfing moves on the bow of Sherpa.

   

Photo by Werner H. Stemer

TIKI BAR RUN

Heading North in Hawk Channel, into the wind and seas, I could see the red sign reflecting in the sky like an invitation. Although we had braved tougher weather I thought maybe we should call it a day and head to the red glow, the world-famous Tiki Bar in Islamorada. Its reputation for a wild party hangout was notorious
up and down the East coast, rum runners, pina coladas, margaritas and a crowd to match the drink menu. We turned to port (left), slowly navigating between coral reefs and sunken wrecks that would sink Sherpa in an instant. Then we docked and proceded to the thatched hut to find an empty beach pub with more bartenders than patrons.

Werner in the Tiki Bar in his dancing sneakers waiting for a drink, the band and hoping for the sky to clear.

(photos by:Werner Stemer, upper and Charles Trainor Jr, lower)

RED RIGHT RETURNING

The three R's of boating: Red Right Returning. When you come back into a channel, the red marker stays on your right, the green marker stays on your left. Easy, right? Well, except early in the morning perhaps. We left Marathon early today, because the report said that the winds would increase and the seas would get churned up by afternoon. As we were navigating out of the marina, I left the green markers on my left. We were returning to the ocean, right, and there must be a red marker on the right, right? Wrong. I promptly ran Sherpa up on a sand bank. It was soft, but it’s still called running aground. Throttle hard reverse pulled us right off. Whew. No harm no foul (and, maybe, nobody saw it, not even the crowd of boaters watching from the dock).

We continued East, towards Matacumbe Keys and Islamorada. The wind was blowing straight from the East, right in our face. We could not put any of our sails up but had to motor the entire way. We saw a few sailboats coming the other way. The picture shows a boat with wing-on-wing sail rigging. This is used when the wind is blowing directly in the direction of travel and the vessel is not equipped with a spinnaker sail.

 

Photo by Werner H. Stemer

Charles took us through Whale Channel into Holiday Isle Marina. The wind had been steadily building and it was now blowing about 25 mph out of the East. The narrow slip required Sherpa to point North, but the slip was to the side of the channel, no way to take a straight shot. So he pointed Sherpa North-East, nearly sideways into the slip. The first approach did not work, so he had to take her around 360 degrees in the narrow channel. The second approach worked. Charles allowed the wind to push Sherpa against the first piling about half-way between mid and aft. This pivoted the hull right into the slip. Again, whew. Probably the best work of docking I have seen (don’t tell him, though!).

SEVEN MILE BRIDGE

After four days of sailing from San Carlos Bay, located outside of Fort Myers, we were excited about watching the Seven Mile Bridge rise from the horizon. Then it seemed to pop up like an Erector set, we knew this structure was a milestone of the trip. After passing under the celebrated bridge we turned to port (left) and the home stretch to Fort Lauderdale was in front of us – by sailboat 4-5 days, by car 3 hours. See ya in five days!

Werner pilots the Sherpa under the Seven Mile Bridge into the Atlantic Ocean after the leaving the Gulf of Mexico.

photo by:Charles Trainor Jr.

Note: Another Stemer will cross the bridge next month, Ann, Werner's wife will run in the Seven Mile Bridge Run with her father. She competes in marathons locally and out of state including the Boston and New York Marathons.

Not all Peachy in Paradise

We wanted to get up early today, so that we could catch the early breezes out of Little Shark River towards to the Florida Keys. Rising too quickly, literally, the ceiling above the bunk hit me over the head pretty hard. Good morning, it said. Next thing, I hit my shin bone trying to pull on my pants. To make matters worse, my jeans had peanut butter and jelly all over them, and the shirt was a match to the tee. We're crusty sailors, after the last few days. Before I knew it the entire cockpit was smeared with brown and purple stains. Charles had overloaded his sandwich yesterday, I guess. Later during the day, we found a new island on the chart. Peanut Butter Island. Not wanting to navigate through it, we wiped it off the chart. By the way, we are on number 19. Extra crunchy.

The mornings in the Florida backcountry are as pretty as the evenings. A couple of fishermen were out early looking for redfish, with the snow-colored birds swooping through the deep blue morning sky. Absolutely perfect.

 

Photo by Werner H. Stemer

TECH TALK

So how do we get all this data posted from a remote place like Little Shark River, a place void of cell phone towers and cable? We sent the blogs and photos on a satellite phone with the antenna mounted on the deck of the sailboat, constantly adjusting the antenna because the boat shifts every time the wind changes.