Christmas in the Keys

 . . . IS DIFFERENT

Our Christmas tree on the boat

At least, it's different from what we've known in past Christmases -- cold weather, church choir rehearsals of Christmas music, non-stop TV advertising, and a frantic pace to get everything done. Limited resources on a boat, few places to shop and no TV reception make life more relaxed, as do the palm trees and 70-degree weather.

To us, church services are a huge part of Christmas, so we looked for a Lutheran church to visit. The only one around seemed pretty far away from the harbor – too far to walk in the dark when you don’t know where you are going. Instead we went to a nearby Methodist church. We were concerned about not being dressed up enough; after all, there’s limited space for clothes on board. There was no need for concern. We were dressed up. We had on long pants. The church was so close to the mooring field that hundreds of boaters had gone there for services – all in shorts and their best Hawaiian shirts.

It was a joyous time with lots of carols sung and filmed role playing telling the thoughts that Mary, Joseph, a shepherd and inn guest may have had on the holy night of the birth of Jesus. It was friendly, unpretentious and uplifting.

The United Methodist Community Church in the daylight. The sign 

and etched glass doors quote Isaiah 42:12: Let them give glory 

to the Lord and declare God's praise in the islands.

The Christmas Pot Luck

Members of the mooring ball community decided to have a pot luck lunch Christmas Day. Mooring balls with even numbers were to bring a vegetable. Odd numbers were to bring a dessert. No one mentioned meat, so we had the great idea to bring half a spiral ham . . . as did about four other people. Everyone had lots of ham and other food. It was a feast. Did we mention that temperatures were in the mid-70s with a sea breeze blowing and a harpist who lives around the mooring field playing. Wow, it sounds even better than it seemed at the time!

Randy played his harp while the rest of us fed our faces.

Meeting Next Door Neighbors

At the pot luck, we met our mooring ball neighbors to the west, Steve and Janette, on Endless Summer.  Janette is an artist who specializes in large murals. She’s a sailor in her own right, having sailed the powerful winds of the San Francisco Bay area for five years.

Steve is a Stoner, not a little “s” stoner, but actually the lead guitarist for Eric Stone (and the Stoners).  They play mellow island music, less rock and roll than Jimmy Buffett’s music, although similar.  Latitudes & Attitudes magazine chose the band to play all its parties at sailing shows around the country.  They are that good. They also live and represent the cruising lifestyle. Although Buffett sails, we're not sure the Coral Reefers do.

We enjoyed meeting Jeannette and Steve, our next-mooring-ball neighbors to the west,

 at the Christmas feast. They both can work from Boot Key Harbor during the winter. 

Steve was also the web master for Latitudes & Attitudes until it changed ownership and folded a few months back. Fortunately, a new magazine – Cruising Outpost – started up with almost all the same staff as Lats & Atts – everyone except the new owners. It has the same sense of fun, adventure and real-life stories by real-life sailors. Steve’s the web master for CO now.

Any similarity to Latitudes & Attitudes is deliberate, down to the whale instead 

of a sea critter on the cover. Subscribe to the magazine, please. Keep it 

in business. The name's not as much fun. The content is.

Even though Christmas in Marathon was different from Tennessee, some elements were the same  – faith, friends and lots of food. Over the holidays especially, we miss our family and friends back home. Our New Year’s wish for you is fair winds and calm seas throughout the coming year. 

Merry Christmas

. . . FROM MARATHON!

We are south! Carina reached the Boot Key Harbor City Marina in Marathon a week ago and became part of the floating community of almost 200 boaters on mooring balls. Grocery stores are just a mile away, as is Kmart and – in the other direction – West Marine. The marina has a Tiki Hut gathering place, a "great room" for mail, WiFi, and TV, a lot of showers/laundry, a large work area for projects, and a daily VHF Cruisers' Net broadcast to unite everyone. What more could you ask for?!

We've already met new friends -- Walt and Pat -- on a Catalina 42 nearby. Life 

in Boot Key Harbor is what you make it: you can stay at the mooring all day 

or reach out to meet people and become involved with others.

But First, a Gauntlet of Crab Pots

Before we left Everglades City, Jeff and Anne at Outward Bound had warned us about the many crab pots south of Little Shark River. They didn’t exaggerate.

The resemblance of a crab pot to a time bomb must be deliberate. A catamaran coming into 

Boot Key Harbor had snared two crab pots on its way in. They luckily did not foul its props.

Crab pots are laid in lines, so that it's easy for the crab boat to check them. Think Deadliest Catch on a much, much smaller scale. Pictures sometimes don't show the scope of a situation; there are 16 crab pots shown here that we had to sail through.

A Construction Wonder

Turning toward the channel to Marathon, we traveled through what was left of the old bridge built in the early 1900s by oil tycoon Henry Flagler. Next to it is the new Seven-Mile Bridge that connects the middle Keys -- including the several islands that the town of Marathon covers -- with the lower Keys.

The old bridge on the left is now a long dock for fishermen. The new Seven-Mile Bridge

 is actually 6.7 miles long and hosts a “fun run” each April that 1,500 people

 usually participate in.

Here for Awhile

We expect to be at Marathon for a month or maybe two, enjoying everything the Keys and Boot Key Harbor have to offer. .  . meeting other sailors, shuttle bus trips to Key West, a visit to the Dolphin Research Center, a Christmas sing-along at the marina’s Tiki Hut, snorkeling, a New Year's Day Polar Bear Plunge (bring your own ice in a glass or a bag), and maybe some fishing, too. This area is a fisherman’s paradise.

Squirt and Kent approach the inside dinghy dock. Squirt's been trained on his green 

pad, but still needs to touch ground, smell things (other than us) and stretch his legs.

Merry Christmas to You All

Carina has a tiny tree and a few other decorations, and Christmas carols have been playing on the satellite radio, all to remind us that Christmas is coming. It's hard to remember because warm temperatures, palm trees and seagulls aren’t usually part of our Christmas.

Our family and friends are never far from our thoughts, especially now. We wish you and your loved ones a Merry Christmas filled with the true meaning of the season.

Bad Sailing Weather

. . . LEADS TO GREAT LAND EXPERIENCE

Our original sailing plans to Marathon turned to mush. In three days, we’d thought to sail from Naples to Indian Pass at the norther part of the Ten Thousand Islands in the Everglades, jump down to Little Shark River, and then sail south to Marathon in the Keys.

But we waited so long on a UPS package in Ft. Myers that the three-day weather window further south closed on us.  The new plan was to hole up a few days in Everglades City, inland from Indian Pass, to wait for another good window.

Bad sailing luck then turned out to be great luck overall. Because of the delay, we discovered the Ten Thousand Islands area in the Everglades National Park and amazing Outward Bound people.

Obviously, this photo is not ours, but gives you the sense of the scope of the islands.

Ten Thousand. . . Who knows?

The islands are gorgeous, what the National Park Service calls “a labyrinth of water and mangroves.” We’d call it one of the top natural wonders of the U.S.  We never knew that such a Caribbean-like place existed in the continental United States with three species of mangroves and other exotic birds and plants. We’ve heard there are fewer actually than the name implies . . . but who knows. There are certainly a lot.

The original plan was to anchor in a protected area in Indian Pass and leave the next day

 for the Gulf. We embarked on an inland adventure instead to Everglades City in the 

upper right hand of this map.

Left at Green Marker 33

The only thing better than the Ten Thousand Islands are the people and program at the Everglades City Base Camp of the North Carolina Outward Bound School.

Where Outward Bound comes in is through our friend Pogo Bob. When he heard our new sailing plans, he called the only person he knew in Everglades City -- Jeff, facilities manager for the base camp. After clearing it with Trish, the base camp director, Jeff kindly invited us to park Carina next to C’est la Vie, his 1966 Charles Morgan 34 sailboat, at the Outward Bound dock.

Raising anchor from Indian Pass the next morning, we motored up the canal to green marker 33. Just to the left of the marker is Sunset Island, home of the base camp and some of the finest people you can meet.

The Outward Bound pontoon boat is decorated with lights and people

 as it heads out to the annual Christmas Parade of Lights. 

The main lodge of the base camp was built in 1937 and went through several hands 

before it was purchased and upgraded by North Carolina Outward Bound School in 1987. It now houses administrative offices, the kitchen and food storage for the schools, the dining hall and a few staff rooms.

Base Camp Director Trish and Instructor Kelly had been planning

 a possible class site before being rudely interrupted. They are all positive, 
inspiring people to be around.

Outward Bound: A Life-Changing Experience

We have been avid outdoors people through our lives and value those abilities. Over our five days at the Everglades City Base camp, we learned that Outward Bound and the instructors we met there represent so much more than teaching canoeing, backpacking, camping and other skills. Their mission statement uses such words as “inspiring,” “developing character,” “self-discovery,” “impelling people to achieve more than they ever thought possible,” “showing compassion” and “creating a better world.”'

What they do is change lives and change the world as they teach outdoor skills. We knew that before we ever passed Green Marker 33 and now know it beyond doubt.

The Outward Bound instructors/leaders are people who have gone through or been touched by the program and love it so much they don’t want to leave. We truly understand how they feel. They are self-motivated, understand the goals and the process of the program, and have the strong desire to help others improve their lives through Outward Bound. They want to pass it on.

The morning after we arrived, Jeff (right) picked up items from a 

Outward Bound group camping on the islands and gave us a tour of the 

canals between mangrove islands. Kent is puffy from wind, not food.

Jeff happened to spy movement from one island to another. At first, we thought 

it was logs or gators. It turned out to be three baby raccoons. This one was the smallest.

Great People, Great Place, Sometimes Terrible Bugs

To achieve more than you think possible through Outward Bound, you have to be mentally tough to some degree. So it was no surprise to us that the staff stoically endured the thunderstorms, heat and awful, awful bugs dawn and dusk in the five days we were at the base camp. 

On our last day there, a staff member said that they hated that we’d had this terrible weather during our visit. (We thought it was normal! Who knew!) Turns out that December is usually very dry with mild temperatures and few bugs. We had June weather and bugs in December.  

It made no difference. It was still an amazing experience. The bugs were inconsequential.

Anna Banana was every dog's and person's friend during our stay. She and Squirt would

have been trouble together if we'd stayed longer. She's a good-hearted girl.

Outward Hound

At the base camp, Squirt got to be a dog with other dogs for the first time in a long time. He flushed birds. . . found dead fish. . . rolled in the grass. . . played chase. . . marked every plant. Within three days, he thought he “owned” the property and challenged anyone who came out of the lodge. 

When we left, all the resident dogs – Carly, Tucker, and Anna -- were on the dock. We like to think it was to say goodbye to Squirt (in his Outward Hound life jacket), although it more likely was because Anne was there. 

Anne is food manager for the base camp programs, meeting her husband 

Jeff through Outward Bound. She's also a very talented jewelry designer, 

although she hardly has any on here. 

Jeff and Anne’s Journey to Expand their Own Boundaries 

So, how do two Outward Bound leaders live what they teach? Jeff and Anne are doing it by taking some time off for their own adventure. They are leaving their roles with the Everglades City Base Camp for awhile to take C’est la Vie on a true cruising journey, sailing in the Caribbean loop from the windward to the leeward islands to below the Equator. . . and around.

The work was never done for Jeff and the rest of the staff at the base camp.

C’est la Vie, docked in front of the base camp lodge, is being prepared 

for Jeff and Anne's two-year trip around the Caribbean.

Is there fear about how they will live, buy food, survive? Probably not. They’ve made solid preparations. Their off-season sailing trips and the Outward Bound program have taught them to face the future with confidence. 

Our Personal Outward Bound-Like Experience

After five days at the base camp, our weather window improved. Our goal was to sail to Marathon, but – oddly enough -- we were reluctant to leave the Outward Bound folks – it’s that positive of an experience. We want our grandkids to all go through the program because they will be better people for it. Heck, we would be better people for going through it ourselves.

Before we left Sunset Island, we humorously compared our sailing south adventures to the Outward Bound philosophy. We have been faced with increasing challenges and are becoming stronger, more confident sailors. We hope our adversities don’t increasingly get more challenging as they do in Outward Bound, but if they do, we hope that we, too, can achieve more than we thought possible. 

Green marker 33 means home to students and staff of the 

Outward Bound Everglades Base Camp.

Ft. Myers Beach to the Everglades

. . . SHE SAID/HE SAID

Jane writes:

People who know Kent know how much he likes to talk. So we had a near catastrophe in late November when we used all our cell phone minutes by Thanksgiving. If you didn’t hear from him then, that’s why. Almost our first stop in Ft. Myers Beach was the Verizon store to bump up our minutes.

(Please note: Jane’s use of our minutes was one less than a quarter of the total.)

Kent writes:

We grabbed #35 mooring ball at the Ft. Myers Beach City mooring field a little after noon Saturday, December 1, not knowing that we would be surrounded by the annual Christmas Parade of Boats that night. It was an amazing show of lights! They are hard to take pictures of, but were beautiful to see (if Jane hadn’t been busy watching Bama barely put the whoop-down on Georgia on TV).

Santa and his reindeer. Somewhere beneath them is a boat.

 This reindeer boat wishes everyone Merry Christmas.

A well-lighted sailboat leads Santa in the dinghy.

Jane writes:

Getting up early one morning, I saw pink-orange out of one port and the most amazing sunrise out the companionway. 

Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning. . . by the afternoon, it was raining.

Kent writes:

Ft. Myers Beach had a surprise in store for us – crows! Not gulls. Not pelicans. According to locals, about twice a year crows swarm the harbor area. One morning Jane got up early and heard the plucking of wires on the spreaders. Expecting laughing gulls or something similar, she found . . . crows! They swarmed like mosquitoes at daybreak and dusk. At times the skies were black with swarms of them. Bob and Trish got “Pelicaned”, we got “Crowed”.

Crows would land on all the sailboat spreaders and shrouds, then take off again.

We both write:

Ft. Myers Beach was a good stop. We reprovisioned, did laundry, took a tour of the island, mailed cards, slept late, found a tiny Christmas tree for the boat, and stayed in one town for more than two days! From there we sailed to Naples, staying at Hamilton Harbor Marina (actually a "yachty" yacht club that allows transients).

Hamilton Harbor Yacht Club and Marina featured its own mini-lighthouse

 at the entrance, here at sunset.

Best of all was when we entered the Ten Thousand Islands area on the western side of the Everglades. We found mangrove islands and our favorite American White Pelicans in flocks of 75+ birds on tide islands.

Mangrove trees form many of the islands in Ten Thousand Islands. Tide 

was out showing the root system of the trees.

White pelicans were flocked together on an island at the start 

of the channel to our anchorage.

It’s stunning! It looks like a fisherman’s paradise. It’s surely a nature lover’s paradise.

Next: Everglades City

A Time of Gratitude

. . . IN THE LAND OF SPONGES, GREEK FOOD, GREAT DESSERTS

Thank you, Tarpon Springs, for giving us rest after our voyage 

You gave us insight to a unique Greek-American culture. You gave us knowledge about sponge cultivation in the Gulf. And – best of all! – you gave us great desserts! 

A sponge boat returned to the Tarpon Springs dock with a full load. 

As sponges dry, they have a strong smell. Too bad this blog doesn't come 
with Smell-o-vision for you to appreciate the aroma.

The wool sponges here are a high-quality sponge. During harvest,
 divers try to leave enough of the sponge for it to regrow.

The Hella bakery has Greek (and American) coffee and over 100 mouth-watering desserts. Greek coffee is like drinking really fine coffee grounds

Thank You, God, for New Friends

After we crossed the Florida Bend at the same time, we stayed in touch with David and Pat on Sanctuary, friends of other long-time sailing friends. We now think of them as our good friends, too.  We suggested going to a dock somewhere and sharing Thanksgiving. The somewhere was Bradenton. Pat was awesome to bake a 12-pound turkey on board. Jane baked the dressing and made gravy. Together we shared the spirit of Thanksgiving and friendship. They are good people, fun people, and good sailors. We hope to meet up with them again at some point as they sail Sanctuary to the Bahamas and back.

Kent and Jane with Pat and David before they sailed off on the next leg of their trip.

Pelicans are a Mixed Blessing

Our yacht club friend, Jonathan, originally from Mobile, asked that we pet a pelican for him. Then a pelican splattered Bob and Trish’s boat. Bob and Trish traveled down the waterways with us. We’ve been sort of obsessed with pelicans since then. On the downside, we went aground at Pelican Bay on Cayo Costa Key. Pelicans, get it? 

But then, guess what?! After leaving them at Wheeler Lake in Alabama, we ran into the migrating huge white pelicans again near Gasparilla Marina in south Florida. 

We'd never heard of the bird until this fall. What we learned is: The American White Pelican has one of the largest wingspans of any North American bird, second only to the California Condor. While the brown pelican dives for fish, the white pelican catches its dinner while swimming. They nest inland in northern states, migrating south in the winter.

American White Pelicans gather on a tidal island near Gasparilla Marina. They often come together in groups of a dozen or more to feed and help each other corral fish.

Who me splatter a boat? Not me! An immature brown pelican at Boca Grande.

Two magnificent adult brown pelicans swim around Whiddens Marina in Boca Grande.  

Exploring Old Florida with John and Anita

We are so grateful to John and Anita on Outrageous who joined us this week to show us their favorite Charlotte Harbor haunts. From Gasparilla Marina, they showed us parts of Florida we’d never have seen without them.  They showed us the fairly exclusive, but gorgeous Boca Grande on Gasparilla Island; the most beautiful beach ever on Cayo Costa, the indescribable Cabbage Key with its dollar-decorated bar, tame ducks, great restaurant and wildlife-filled island trail; and the Green Flash Restaurant (aka Timmy’s Nook) on Captiva Island.  If you have the chance to go on a John-and-Anita-led trip, our advice is to GO!

The Gasparilla Marina loaned us a golf cart to get from our slips to the store 

and restaurant. The marina stores over a thousand boats.

Boca Grande is known for its banyan trees. Miss Anita poses in front of one 

that's been decorated for Christmas.

Every square inch of the walls in the Cabbage Key restaurant and bar are decorated with dollar bills. When a bill falls off  -- as they all eventually do, the money is donated to charity. Thousands of dollars are donated each year. 

Anita and John on Outrageous under sail during the cruise of Charlotte Harbor sights. 

When they left us near Captiva this morning, we suspect that they sailed straight back 
to Cabbage Key. It brought back wonderful memories for them and 

is as special now as it was years ago. 

Handling Trials

Ten minutes after running Carina's engine hard to get off the sand in Pelican Bay, the engine warning starts sounding. We're thankful for having learned the basics of diesel engine maintenance and for bringing lots of extra parts. Kent checked the possible problem areas, found a broken water pump belt and replaced it in a matter of minutes. John suggested he might want to join a NASCAR pit crew.

Stopping to Smell the Roses

It's been a little over two months since we first threw the lines on the dock. To us, it feels like a long push to get from Chattanooga to . . . somewhere south. Now, we’re at Ft. Myers Beach and are a little weary, to be honest. Days not traveling have been full of boat work. And -- darned it! -- Ol' Man Winter caught up with us.

We’re ready to stay some place for more than two nights, relax a bit, and get our mail. So we'll be at Ft. Myers Beach for nearly a week. We may even work on our tans, that is if the weather warms up and the wind quits blowing like stink. 

“The Crossing”

. . . EVERY LOOPER'S WORRY AND NIGHTMARE

Move over, French Revolution. It was exciting, we’re sure, but our sail across the Gulf from Carrabelle to Tarpon Springs “was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.” To rate the trip for enjoyment, it was the worst.  To rate it for memories and war stories made, it was the best.

Everyone who travels by boat from the Panhandle to south Florida waits for a good weather window. Seas should be fairly calm at 2-3 feet or less, and winds around 10. Trawlers – the expensive RVs of the seas -- want them even calmer so they don’t pitch and yawl. Weather Web sites called for good conditions on Wednesday, and experts said that weather window would be the last chance for a week for a crossing.

Winds were predicted to be 10-15 mph during the day, moderating to 10 at night until midnight when they were to pick up to 15 mph again. The seas were expected to be 2-3 feet until the afternoon when they were to decrease to 1-2 feet tall. Remember these numbers.

The Fun Begins

We arrived at C-Quarters Marina in Carrabelle on Tuesday and quickly prepared to leave Wednesday morning. The Portabote dinghy had been disassembled and strapped to the deck. We filled up with water and diesel. We provisioned with easy snack foods and cooked an extra pizza so we wouldn’t have to prepare food while underway.

Carina has everything strapped on board and is ready to go in the morning. Next to her, Truthsayer, a 51-foot boat from Texas -- they make everything bigger in Texas, would leave an hour later than we did after the tide rose higher.

The sun sets at the dock of the C-Quarters Marina in Carrabelle.

At 8 a.m. Wednesday, we untied the lines from the poles at the dock – no easy feat – and waved goodbye to our dock neighbor, Truthsayer, a 51-foot ketch, which was leaving as well, but was aground until the tides came in an hour later. The day was gray and overcast. Because most days started off that way lately, we expected sun and warmth later.

Ladies and gentlemen, the moral of this story is: Stay In The Channel. . . especially 

when the tide is going out . . . especially when it's dark. A Texas trawler spent a 

rough night almost in a marina at Carrabelle.

From C-Quarters, we motored east of Dog Island and, once in deep water, set a direct line on the chart plotter for an entrance buoy to Tarpon Springs 151 miles away. We actually sailed further because of the miles to reach Dog Island on the front end and the miles to our marina in Tarpon Springs after we reached the buoy.

After leaving Dog Island, the winds and waves were such that we felt comfortable raising all the sail we had. We boogied! Carina was sailing 7 to 8 mph. Winds were 15-20 mph, a little higher than expected, and a little gustier. The seas were every bit 2-3 feet and often higher. The sun never appeared though. It was heavily overcast all day, never brightening or warming.

We reefed sail at dark to make the ride more comfortable and because we didn’t know what the night might bring. After the forecasters underestimated the daytime conditions, who knows what to expect later. After some hard, fast sailing, we’d traveled 50 miles. . . only 50 miles!

Dark as the Inside of a Cow’s Belly

At 6 p.m., total, absolute darkness fell. No horizon line was visible for 360 degrees. There were no stars. There was no moon in the sky.  There was no phosphorescence in the water. We sailed in total pitch black darkness for 12-1/2 hours.  Later a new trawler friend described it as “dark as the inside of a cow’s belly.”

During her watch when darkness fell, Jane mentioned how she was steering totally by the instruments, using the chart plotter, wind gauge and compass to stay on course. We remembered that another friend had turned on his autopilot during his crossing last year because sometimes instruments can keep the boat on course better than humans. It’s not something we recommend usually. It takes the joy out of sailing. Trust us, there was no joy in sailing in that darkness.

When your surroundings are that dark, it works on your mind.  It's almost sensory deprevation. Although it was lumpy, in the daylight you could look around and enjoy seeing the Gulf and waves.  There’s nothing to do in total blackness but talk and listen to satellite radio or CDs. Or sit and listen to the swoosh, swoosh, boom of the waves and winds repeat over and over.

We felt alone in that blackness. Occasionally a voice would come on the VHF radio, trying to locate another boater friend. If the friend didn’t respond, we’d talk with the caller to get a sense of where they were and just to hear another voice. We saw lights of fishing boats twice, the only lights in the blackness other than our running lights.

The only food we wanted was not pizza, but rather Dr. Atkins protein drinks.

Kent took a seasickness prevention pill early in the evening which made him feel puny, not sick, but not normal. He couldn’t sleep with the motion of the boat. Jane stayed awake, too, to keep him company except when she hit the wall for an hour at 4 a.m. Squirt was on deck with us, too. He was sick once after dark and not real happy the rest of the time. He curled up under a warm jacket, hiding from the world. Did we mention that it was cold, too?

We reduced sail several times in the early evening. The more sail we reefed, the harder the wind blew.  We couldn’t slow the boat down. Several times the anemometer which measures wind speed (and direction) showed 22-23 mph winds.

By 3 a.m., the waves and wind finally died down to 1-2 feet and about 12 mph. By 4, we turned on the engine to supplement the sails to keep our speed up.

Will this night ever end?!

At 6:19 a.m., the sun started rising on the Gulf of Mexico. We’d traveled 100 miles from the time we left Dog Island near Carrabelle and had 51 more to go.

You Do What You Got to Do

In the night, a fellow sailor talked about the lumpy ride and said on the VHF, “Well, you do what you got to do.” That sums up our crossing adventure. We had to get from Point A to Point B, so we sucked it up and did it, as fellow travelers did.

A dozen dolphins greeted us after we rounded the entrance buoy, 

heading to Tarpon Springs.

The last 50+ miles were sailed uneventfully, dodging crab pots for the last 15 miles to our entrance buoy. At 12:30, we docked at Turtle Cove Marina, a big, accommodating marina right next to the old part of Tarpon Springs, drank a champagne toast for having completed the toughest part of our travels so far, and crashed for a few hours.

Cheers to Carina and a successful crossing!

Over the past two days, we talked with others who sailed across the Florida bend at the same time. People who had made the trip several times before said these were the worst conditions they've sailed the crossing in.

We didn’t love the experience, but gained a lot of confidence in our ability to handle Carina. When the wind briefly changed during the night and the autopilot couldn't act quickly enough,  the sails accidentally hove-to. We were able to work with the sails and steer her out with little anxiety. (For non-sailors reading this, hove-to is when the sails are positioned to cause the boat to stop, instead of go to our destination.)

We learned that Catalina Yachts makes a tough 34-foot boat. We already knew the company makes a tough 22. Carina can take stronger weather and water conditions than her crew probably can. She’s teaching us that our limits may be broader than we thought they were.

NEXT:  On to the Keys