Monday, November 16, 2015 in Sarasota, Florida
I have not written in a long time, at least not since “the
crossing” of the Gulf of Mexico. First of all, the two parts of Florida that
we’ve visited are completely different. Down here on the western side of the
peninsula, it’s all about condos and restaurants, retirees and sunshine.
Earlier, on the coast of the panhandle, it was all about fishing and military
bases and making a living. From what we can tell, the two areas are not alike
at all.
The unfortunate part, for us, is that our Florida experience
is all about getting where we’re going and putting the boat away for the
winter. The leisurely life of exploring new places and enjoying the water ended
about the time we arrived in Mobile. At that point, knowing that there would be
only one short “window” for crossing the gulf within the next couple of weeks,
we were completely focused on getting to Carrabelle in time.
The “windows" are mainly for small boats like ours. A
freighter or a naval ship would not be bothered by the winds or waves that
would beat us up. And actually, our Nordic Tug wouldn’t be bothered by them
much either, but the people on board certainly would be! In the days leading up
to our crossing, there had been rainstorms and a hurricane from Mexico that
kept us in port a couple of days, in Demopolis and in Miramar Beach, so we had
to account for those delays. Along with the rain came the wind, and the wind is
what really stirs up a big body of water like the Gulf of Mexico.
We watched the weather information closely, monitoring Apps
for wind, tides, waves, phases of the moon, and reading the locals’ advice.
Eventually we knew that the window would be during the day of Wednesday,
November 11, throughout the night and into the morning of November 12. There
wouldn’t be another window for more than a week after that.
We had decided to cross from Carrabelle to Clearwater,
although you can choose to arrive at many cities on the coast. Look at the map
of Florida to find Carrabelle (near Apalachicola) on the panhandle, then make a
straight line to Clearwater on the Gulf coast of the peninsula. That is the
crossing. If you don’t want to go straight across, you can hug the edge of the
coast all the way around, but it’s very shallow (less than 10 feet) and filled
with grass that can wrap around your propeller. So boats go straight across
instead. A fast boat can make it in about 8 hours; a boat like ours takes about
18.
Once you know the date of the window, the next thing to consider
is the time of sunrise on the peninsula. For us, it would be 6:50 a.m. When
arriving from the west, you stare right into the rising sun. It’s like millions
and millions of flashbulbs popping on the surface of the water, burning your
eyes. In those waters, at depths of 50’ or less, fishermen have placed crab pot
markers, and you have to watch for them closely to keep from snarling your
prop. This is why you don’t come in at night or when the sun is in your
eyes.
We decided that we had to arrive after 9:00 a.m. A good speed
for our boat (and the five others who eventually traveled with us) is about 8
knots, or 9.2 miles per hour. So we had to allow about 18 hours to cross. We
also needed to be outside the islands around Carrabelle before dark, and sunset
was at 5:44 p.m. So we decided to depart at 4:00 p.m. on November 11, putting
us in around 10:00 Thursday morning. The two of us would take turns monitoring
the helm, but the autopilot was set on a straight line and there was basically
nothing to do until we arrived.
Now the good part. The water was calm and smooth. The sunset
was beautiful. The night was spectacular. It was DARK. There was a new moon
that night, but it wasn’t even due to rise until after sunrise the next day. It
was so dark out on the open water that we could see ALL the stars. Over the
course of twelve hours of darkness, we learned more about the night sky and the
constellations than we had ever known. We watched stars rise in the east and
set in the west. We followed the course of the constellations as they rotated
in the sky. For a while I couldn’t find the Big Dipper, but several hours later
I saw it on the horizon. The North Star stayed in one spot, just like they say
it does, and Cassiopeia was visible all night. We saw the International Space
Station with its blinking lights, and in the early morning hours, the planets
Venus, Jupiter and Mars rose big and bright in the east.
At one point in the night, while I was “driving” and Brian was
sleeping, a dolphin leaped out of the water beside my open door. At first it
scared me to death, but when I realized what it was, I was excited. He jumped a
few more times before letting us go. Oh my!
We ate pimento cheese sandwiches all night in honor of my
father who always took them on his adventures. When made with roasted red
peppers, extra sharp cheddar, good mayonnaise and fresh bread, they are
OUTSTANDING!
We arrived safely in Clearwater around 10:30 the next morning.
By 11:00, Brian had docked the boat perfectly in a strong current, even though
he was dead tired. We ate lunch at Kara Lynn’s Kitchen in Clearwater, an
excellent gluten-free and organic restaurant. Then we went back to our boats to
sleep for several hours. Later that night, we slept again and Brian woke up
around 11:00 the following morning, finally rested.
Yesterday in St. Petersburg we parted company with the Melinda
B, our buddy-boat and companions since September and Chicago. They are heading
home today, but we have one more week. We’ve seen Clearwater and Sarasota, and are
continuing south via Englewood and Sanibel. Once we reach the Fort Myers area,
we’re pulling the boat out of the water to store for the winter. Then there’s
Thanksgiving and visiting family in several spots before we get home.
We have traveled with dolphins in our wake and with my new
favorite bird, the pelican, overhead. Other interesting creatures in this area
are the pistol shrimp beneath the boat. They are little shrimp that snap, snap,
snap all night long, sending out a rapid spray of hot water to stun their food.
The noise is like snapping your fingers with your whole community, all the
time. When you know what it is, it can be a very comforting sound.
Another sunny, warm November day in Florida, oh my!
