Louise Michel in the Keys
Boot Key Harbor, jan 17
[SIZE=4]I hadn't planned to come to Marathon, or anywhere in the Florida Keys for that matter. I thought that by now I'd be in Marsh Harbor. Not sure if I lost my nerve, but after four back to back cold fronts, and talking to other SBLD cruisers, I began to have second thoughts about trying to cross to the Abacos in December. It didn't help that the little Tohatsu, which has worked perfectly for two years and which ran day after day, sometimes for ten hours non stop, down the ICW, began to cut out....and of course at the most inopportune moments. I think the motor is fine and the problem is the installation - the poor thing is suffocating on its own exhaust. And the design – if it didn't have such a skinny ass it wouldn't squat so much. But then Alberg didn't design the Ariel as a cruising boat Problem is where else do you put all that stuff? [/SIZE]
[SIZE=4]Everyone says Pearson Ariels are great sea going boats and I'm sure they are. Not sure anyone has actually sailed around the world in one, maybe someone out there knows. All I know is I was not relishing the prospect of fourteen hours of hand steering and being drenched by waves over the bow or over the side which is what seemed likely unless conditions for crossing the Gulf Stream were perfect. And, assuming I/we got across safely, the weather would be much the same, but with fewer all weather anchorages and still being pinned down by cold fronts for half the week. Maybe it's that I am older, or maybe global warming really has altered the climate, but I don't remember cruising in the PNW, even going around Vancouver Island, being this hard.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=4]I thought of going to Cuba instead, getting round to the south west coast, and hopefully more sheltered cruising, but Daniel didn't want to do that. The prospect of going solo, in this boat, was just too daunting. So, Daniel went back to North Carolina and I came on down to the Keys. I spent Christmas and New Year in No Name Harbor... thinking at times that I was in Cuba...then moved on to Key Largo and now Boot Key Harbor. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=4]I miss Daniel. He and I discovered boating together when he was just a kid. I remember us being towed back to port when an early season gale ripped our makeshift blue tarp sail to shreds, sleeping on the beach wrapped in a sail because the wind was too strong to get home. Then, as we became more proficient, and our boats got bigger – 26' instead of 16', and with motors - we began to spend summers cruising together in the San Juan Islands and up and down Georgia Strait.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=4]I'm also enjoying having the boat to myself. For one person as a liveaboard it's plenty big enough. I'm also enjoying being 'at loose ends'. Even though we took our time the trip down the ICW was a slog. I'm quite content to just be here, on a mooring, taking care of chores, visiting with other liveaboards and watching the sun rise and set. My FM radio quit and to get internet means a long paddle to the marina. Not having these easy distractions means more time for introspection.... some of which is good and leads to valuable insights, lessons in humility and acceptance and so on. But mostly it's the same old nonsense that's been rattling around in my head for years. I probably need professional help but psychiatrists are even more expensive than boats....[/SIZE]
[SIZE=4]My partner Madeline will be joining me in a few weeks for two months. By then hopefully the worst of the winter storms should be over. Current plan is to cross to Bimini and then on to the Exumas. Beyond that I'm not making any plans. I still want to go to the western caribbean in april/may [Jamaica, Honduras, Belize] but that depends on finding someone to go with me. [/SIZE]
Ariel 44 crosses the Gulf Stream
We are in the Bahamas... finally.
Madeline arrived over a week ago. We were looking at a good weather window a couple of days ago, when our two kayaks-- our only way to get to shore— were stolen. Even worse, Madeline's was brand new; she's only paddled it once. This was a serious setback, not just financially but also in terms of time.
We decided our best bet was to buy an inflatable dinghy and a small electric motor and battery. We found an inexpensive model on sale at a West Marine south of Miami. Had to take a bus, then a train, then another bus. Then carry back the giant box on a tiny hand cart, plus the battery hidden in a plain brown bag in case Miami public transport considered it dangerous.(Back in Mattituck I disguised my propane tank as a bag of laundry on the local bus, so I'm no stranger to illicit transport of hazardous materials.)
From the bus stop in Key Biscayne it's a mile walk to the harbor and by then we were exhausted. A young couple in a van kindly gave us a ride from the park gate.
The motor-- a small electric trolling motor-- came via UPS and one of the park rangers delivered it to the dock.
We spent a day testing our new ride, listening to the weather forecast and studying passageweather.com. It looked like there would be another, short, weather window, but it would entail an overnight passage. Crossing at night has some advantages-- you leave and arrive in daylight, there's usually less wind, the waves are smaller, and there's no hurry. There was a blustery wind leaving Cape Florida but we could fetch our course. The wind slowly eased and we soon had to motorsail. We had to steer a little into the current which cut our speed over the ground to three knots. With a small, slower boat like ours, leaving from further south-- for example, Key Largo-- would have been better.
We could still see the glow of the lights of Miami when we saw the lights of Bimini, neither of which would have been visible in the daylight; we found this reassuring. There was some shipping but less than in the Straits of Juan de Fuca.
Neither of us had slept much on the crossing and the dock we tied up at in north Bimini was hot, noisy and had lots of wake from passing boats. To our consternation, we then discovered there was going to be a band playing at right next door. We had forgotten it was Saturday. Both of us like to dance and it was a reggae band, but we were so beat that we slept right thru it.
We had planned to cross the banks today but the wind was on the nose and blowing strong. The marina we are in tonight on south Bimini is a total contrast-- an artificial harbor surrounded by condominiums-- a gated resort for well-to-do white people.
There's another, stronger cold front coming in a couple of days, so tomorrow we have to hustle across to the Berry Islands. It's 80 miles so we will anchor overnight somewhere on the banks, in ten feet of clear turquoise water out of sight of any land.
