Crossing the Gulf of Mexico in the dark

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!