Rendezvous 2, Crew 3

“Familiar faces in new places.”  There is a thrill to seeing someone you know in a new place.  Metaphorically, it can carry over to seeing them in a new context or new “light.”  A bond takes shape instantly, tied to (of all things) a place.  That thrill is amplified many fold when that person you see, walking down the dock, is someone you love.  I felt something in me relax into Tyler’s arms as we hugged each other on the dock.  I was in the arms of someone who knows me likely more than anyone else.  I was in the arms of someone to whom and with whom my instincts tell me with an incredible certainty that i belong.  Not in a sense of ownership.  A living thing can't be owned, it is its own.  But this belonging is in a sense of presence and relief.  And belonging?  IS a big deal.  I so look forward to living closer to my son.  To being able to meet him for lunch.  What profound luck that i get to make that my priority.  And i apologize to my parents for having moved so far away from them for most of my life.  I could not have known this…until now. 

Ty arrives very fresh from finals in micro-biology and physics.  Whew!  Kristin arrived with him.  No, they aren’t a “couple.”  In fact, this crew is mostly new to each other and they're the youngest crew combo this trip will see.  She is already a sailor.  She just took her captain’s test and hopes to return home to her license and teaching sailing.  I like being able to assume that she knows how to tie a bowline, and what needs to happen to tack, and how to trim.  And i like how taking the helm (tho she’s only a head taller than it) is easy for her.  She’s “got game,” so to speak.  She came to play and doesn’t hesitate.  Meanwhile, Reed has proven to be a quick study, picking up the language and trim and life aboard handily.  So i’ve got good crew for a challenging 740nm leg, with careful navigational in the Bahamas, and a 3 to 400 mile jump to Puerto Rico.   Stowing some $300 in groceries, we're as ready as we're gonna be.

What am i finding so far?

What am i finding so far?  That i am used to being alone on the boat.  So i tend to try to do everything…like i used to.  Cook, trim, steer, navigate, repair, coil, dust, wash dishes, do laundry, manage systems, coil, etc…  I realize that this may get in the way of my crew’s desire to do things too.  So i invite crew to ask me to back off of those things they want to do.  (communication is the key)  Still, i do a lot of things “a certain way.”  So i may answer i’ll do it myself, or maybe i’ll ask if i may show you how i like to do it, or…maybe i’ll just say thank you and leave you to it.  I really do want my crew’s contributions.  I’m just saying that if it doesn’t seem like that?  Well, we need to clarify my intentions.  

What else?  I AM a “neatnick.”  I really appreciate keeping Akimbo clean and stuff in place.  “Fighting the forces of chaos,” i call it.  Thank you. 

And…i have two purposes here.  First is to move Akimbo forward on this route.  Second is for my crew to enjoy the trip, each other and me…and vice versa.  It is (i'm looking for the right word...) it's more than my pleasure to meet you.  It's more profound than that.  But being a tourist doesn't seem to be my purpose, much.  My focus doesn’t branch out much to touring, unless...  Maybe y’all can help me with that. 

I’m also finding that Akimbo’s stitching is tired.  On the dodger.  On the mainsail cover.  On the sock for the drifter.  On the wheel's leather.  Stitching appears that it may be my bane of this trip. 

I’ll let you know what else…as i find it.  

Key West to Nassau

Today (March 15) Reed, John and i departed Key West and headed about 20 miles up the coast to a little anchorage called New Found Harbor.  We started with north winds of 20-25 knots under jib alone.  After a bit we added the double reefed main, which helped considerably to push thru the waves.  And we finished under northeast winds of 10-15.  We motored in the channel.  After stirring up some sand in our reconnaissance, we settled for anchoring in 10-12 feet of water just off the channel.  It was a good day to acclimate the new crew.  Tomorrow we plan to start our overnight passage to the Bahamas. 

Our overnight crossing of the Gulf Stream went well.  In 15 to 20 know winds, under solent jib and full mainsail, we averaged 5 knots again, for 135 nm, arriving at North Cat Cay at about 11am.  We could tell we were near Miami, crossing paths with a lot of cruise ships and tankers.   Best of all, we never had to listen to the engine.  The only blemish for me was when another sailboat appeared behind us in the sunset and proceeded to sail closer to the wind and faster than us, and soon leave us far behind.  Akimbo is no slouch, but the other boat’s performance embarrassed me.  Sorry, Akimbo.  Guess i needed still more humble pie. 

Cat Cay is for rich folk.  As marina customers rather than “guests” or “members,” our access to the island was limited.  When Reed took the bike for a ride he got some questioning looks.  We checked thru customs.   It feels good to have arrived to such beautifully clear and emerald turquoise waters. 

A couple on a Jeaneau 50 pulled into tied up next to us.  They were from England, had crossed the Atlantic to Grenada, and made their way north from there – sort of a mirror image of our Caribbean plans.  I asked if they had any tips.  They said that the islands were lovely and highly individual and too numerous to single one out.  What i should have asked for was more immediate info – like how crossing the Great Bahama Bank went.  We planned to cross it mostly at night but they recommended against that – so we changed our plan and shoved off straight away.  The sailing was delightful up until 6pm when the wind died.  We motored to near Russell shoal and anchored about 15nm from Northwest Channel, where we would exit the Bank.  It was a quiet night.

We woke to overcast skies.  The wind piped up and some rain briefly spat as we finished breakfast dishes.  We weighed anchor, hoisted the jib and sailed.  Soon added the reefed mainsail.  As the wind eased we took the jib down and unrolled the genoa and went to the full mainsail.  Soon rolled up the genoa and hoisted the drifter.  Took the main down…and gave up, taking the drifter down and motoring.  We put the drifter up again when the wind came back.  When it got over 15 knots, we finished the day under the genoa alone.  I think i took too much advantage of having crew for changing sail.  I felt my patience get shorter as we kept chasing the wind changes.  Hopefully i’ll balance better soon. 

A few nights later, the a stiff wind came up from the west and i stood anchor watch the last few hours of the night – with the engine in gear to ease the anchor’s work.  When i consider a 60# anchor dug into a sand bottom and a hundred pounds of chain holding a bucking 35,000# boat!...i am impressed.  Unrolled the genoa and had a RIDE to Nassau.  Where we will pick up our next crew (Kristin and Tyler) and drop off John (Reed continues with us).  Thank you John!  I don’t know if you can appreciate the difference you made by standing your watch on the overnight rides.  And thank you for cheffing…and for your enthusiasm.  

Fishing

I forgot to mention our fishing luck.  “Skill!”  Rick might correct.  But you’ve got to wonder what a #1 planer, a Tony Acetta spoon and a six pack of beer all have in common.  They all caught fish. 

Rick set up our trolling rod and soon caught a mackerel our second or third day out (i believe it’s called a sierra in the Sea of Cortez).  Later that day i caught another bigger one.  Then, at the Dry Tortugas, while we were at anchor, a commercial fishing boat pulled up to us and said they had run out of beer, would we be interested in trading beer for fish.  So our answer was, “of course!”  And THAT was how we caught 8 yellow tail snapper.   What fun. 

 Now that Reed is aboard...we are definitely in fish.  He didn't even nap after crossing the Gulf Stream all night to Cat Cay in the Bahamas.  He went fishin' while wading, caught and released one baracuda, and the other swallowed the hook too deep to survive - thus our first fish tacos of this trip.  My policy is that we don't fish when we've already got some in the freezer.  Well, we've got some good eating to do.  

Waiting in Key West

Akimbo sits at a dock in Key West.  Reed and JD are aboard.  We’re waiting for a persistent north wind to clock before crossing the Gulf Stream and getting into the Bahamas.  North bound Stream, south bound and gusty wind, new crew…these things don’t add up.  Remember what i said about weather delays?  I’m itchy to get underway, but i’m not stressed.  Enuf days are budgeted in this leg to wait.  But marinas aren’t cheap.  I’ve been scouring the charts and think i’ve found a place we could anchor about 20 nautical miles up the coast.  That might be a good intro for the crew.  And it’d feel good to feel Akimbo sail. 

Looking back on the first leg…i feel like i’m rubbin’ a little rust off of me and ironing details out on Akimbo.  Hoping we get smoother and smoother.  Greg, Rick and Marty.  Thank you very much for getting me off to a good and heartfelt start.  Our bonds have grown.  You were great.  We did well – and ate very well too.  Curious – when i was sailing alone, this keyboard was my companion and i wrote more.  And now, i’m rushing to post this? 

Before dawn at Venice Inlet, another cold front came thru and our third day was a RIDE!  Under solent jib alone, i think 8.5 knots was our best speed over ground.  We screwed up our courage at the sea buoy to Boca Grande and gybed for the channel – which the charts show has migrated south of its buoys.  It took some faith to leave all the buoys to port, but big breaking waves made clear where the deeper water was.  Once inside, in Pine Island Sound, our anchorage was just off the intracoastal waterway and a little exposed. With our draft…there weren’t many other options.  But we slept well to be ready for our overnight passage to the Dry Tortugas. 

140 miles in 28 hours.  Most of it went well, but after dark, downwind with lighter winds, the rigging shook hard as the left over swell emptied the sails and they then re-filled.  As our angle on the Tortugas narrowed, before dawn, we started motoring.  Once onto the bank, we unrolled the genoa and finished under sail again – style is everything.  Once anchored, i saw something under Akimbo.  A tail?  If so, it was attached to some biggish animal.  A small manatee?  Turns out it was a big goliath grouper.  We needed food and sleep, so we waited until morning to pump up Sea Cow (“Sea Cow lives!”) and go ashore and snorkeling. 
We hoped to depart for Key West before sunset on our second day but the wind didn’t cooperate, so we stayed an extra day.  After that we had a very nice night sail, leaving the Marquesas to weather (south) of us – close hauled under double reefed main and solent jib, slowly gaining 30 degrees on our course as a steady 20 knots of wind clocked.  It felt good to be on the move again.  Before dawn we hove to for about an hour near the sea buoy, to wait for daylight to make our way in.  Voila!  We are here.  Thank you very much. 

So…how’s this going?  Quite well.  What can i/we improve?  I was able to sailmail Reed and John from Dry Tortugas about the weather day.  Once here, my phone worked but i don’t expect that in foreign countries.  It helped that John had a rental car – and i don’t expect that again.  Feels like we should look at rendezvous days as dedicated solely to that – one crew stepping off, another stepping on, cleaning up, taking care of any chores, inventory and restock food…maybe allow for a little more transition time.  Hmmm.  What else?  I’ll let you know if i have any ideas, please do the same for me.  Again, big thank you Greg, Rick and Marty. 

In the immortal words of Errol the cabbie in Belize, “Love, brother, love.”  

underway

bon voyage from Nancy & Beth

the #1 crew, as they like to call themselves

The busy-ness of getting underway was a welcome distraction from my emotions.  Leaving my parents behind...i didn't muster a proper goodbye.  I had to trust our hugs and goodbyes from our breakfast together and from our goodnights the night before.

While the winds were with us the first day, they were too light for the size of the swell rolling by.  Said swell shaking the wind right out of the drifter.  The luxury of having crew made hoisting and dousing the sail several times tolerable and we managed to limit our motoring to about half the day.  The last few hours were lovely, sailing across Tampa Bay and right up to the DeSoto anchorage in the Manatee River by Bradenton.  Good anchorage.

Greg fell victim to sea-sickness that day, put a scop transderm behind his ear, laid down and slept.  And has been in good shape since.  Rick and Marty got used to Akimbo being larger than their Compac 23. These three are spoiling me for crew - with ready hands and good food.  Thank you for this good start.

Next day we got a dawn start (love those).  Once in the Gulf, we set full main and genoa and sailed to weather, motored a few hours thru a mid-day lull and admired Akimbo's stride once the wind settled in.  Here at the dock in Venice Inlet, a front moved thru with a little rain about 6am, to be followed by gusty winds and clear skies.  A good day for the jib.  The immediate challenge will be to get off the dock unscathed tho the wind pins us to it.

My next note will likely be from Key West.

Drum roll...

Well, Akimbo and crew push off in four days.  And almost every berth (of nearly a thousand?!) has been signed-up for.  Magic!

I’ve worked hard to get Akimbo ready.  She's in the best shape i've ever had her.  But i've felt discouraged and lucky all at the same time to find some things literally "hanging by a thread."  Lucky to find and fix them now instead of later.  But luck cuts both ways.  Akimbo is 14 years and at least 30,000 nautical miles old.  I keep watching and listening for what i haven't found.

Now, how do i get me ready?  I'm both daunted and excited.  Flutterbies in my stomach.  They let me know…that i’m not holding back.  Like goosebumps, they tell me i’m alive.  It's time to leave doubts behind:  guardians of the gates.  They're there to make sure that this IS the path i intend.  They demand an answer...or a retreat.  They center me.

Maybe a little meditating will help.  I watch breath, tho'ts, feelings.  Invisible things but no less real for that.  Of course, this trip barges right in to these moments.  The future?  Invisible too.  "What is about to happen?" i wonder.  The next breath begins.  I come back to the chuckle of water alongside Akimbo's hull.  She rocks gently in her slip.  Sunlight, bounced off the water outside, dances all around her interior.

Exhale.  Hell, when have i ever known what was about to happen?  How different seven months in company will be from seven months alone.  Sure, i make plans, i prepare Akimbo, myself and crew.  But that feels like only a tiny part of the unknowns made blatant by a journey.  A life.  Sometimes an unknown becomes known and it “takes my breath away” …for an instant.  In beauty.  Or surprise.  Or in pain.  How many breaths have i taken and released in 60 years?  How many next things have come?  And gone?  So many that i didn’t pay attention to.  Yet how lucky i’ve been.

The gatekeepers let me pass.  Now to see what we find and what finds us.  Time now to inhale, to open, to pay attention.  To exhale and enjoy.   I am very grateful to have crew.  Thank you.
See you soon,

jon