View from the helm surrounded by miles of open ocean
The setting sun gives the evening clouds a radiant hue
Made it to Isla Mujeres in one piece with quite a tale to tell so instead of writing one really long post that drags on, I'll make it into 2 or 3 really long posts;)
We left St Pete, Fl on Saturday, May 28th around 1:00 in the afternoon with clear skies and about an 8 knot wind from the southwest. Our intent was to take a rhumb line straight from St Pete's to Isla. An open ocean crossing covering 450 miles. In a boat, when sailed well, can average around 5 knots/hour it should take between 4 - 6 days to make the crossing.
I knew this would be a marathon of a trip since we were just double handing the boat and would have to take 4 hour shifts the entire time so someone was always on watch especially at night. Luckily, Stan does have a wind vane on the back of the boat which is basically an automatic pilot assistant that uses a wind rudder device with a network of pulleys and lines hooked up to the helm which sailors have been using for centuries. So instead of constantly working the helm, we could just ease back and make small course corrections on the wind vane when necessary. It was a life saver.
The first day, even though progress was slow, spirits were high and seas were calm. As evening came, the cooling of the ocean air causes high cumulous clouds to build which include cloud lightening. This was a normal occurrence each evening and luckily the lightening was never near us. Most nights were clear but sometimes the leftover clouds in the evening would settle on the horizon and during the night you could not make out where the ocean stopped and the sky started. It was literally like sailing into a pitch black void. It did however allow for little cat naps while on watch since you couldn't see anything anyway but don't tell Stan that.
After the first night, the winds died drastically and we decided to motor. Later in the day the wind picked up and shifted around to the southeast. We put up all 3 of our sails this time on starboard tack and were making a solid 5 knots/hr again right on our rhumb line. Seas were a bit higher but things couldn't have been better.
This sounds like the life but for anyone who has not been in the open ocean on a 30 foot boat this is for you. I am sure you have visions of Stan and I kicking back, drinking beers, living the life of kings. Please allow me to give you some perspective. Even in calm seas, your boat is constantly rocked about and you feel like a monkey strapped to a mean bull at the Thailand rodeo. After that first day, seas stayed at a minimum of 5 ft, maxed at 15 ft. This means to move anywhere, especially below deck, the only thing that would have helped was if your parents happened to be Spider-man and Mary Lou Retton. If you were this lucky, you may have had the athleticism to move about the boat without ending up with too many bruises. But if you are like me and your parents are just hard working country folk, you may want to consider a set of X-games padding for your next sailing adventure.
Aside from it being a strain to sit, stand, or walk, there were also the duties of food and mother nature. We definitely overestimated how much we thought we would be "cooking" when we bought our rations. Anything pre-made was gone in the first couple days. We were able to make pasta twice when we had calmer water for a couple hours. And the two cartons of eggs I had optimistically boughten thinking a scrambled egg breakfast each morning would be great, were cursed sufficiently each time I had to dig around them just to get a water or ginger ale from the refrigerator locker.
And the head. Imagine a small telephone booth that also includes a toilet and a sink. Place that on the back of a monster truck during the middle of his freestyle competition, now go in and have a sit. I felt like I was auditioning for a new Jack-Ass skit. Can easily say, the most difficult thing I've ever had to do in my life.
So aside from that, the sailing lifestyle is fabulous. We were making steady progress and at times had a little fun. At one point I harnessed myself to the spin halyard and belayed myself over the life lines so I was just above the water line. I got soaked a couple times by some small rogue waves but it was a refreshing rinse that took off a few layers of the sun screen/sea salt that had built up on my epidermis over the past couple days.
My favorite times were when Stan was below resting and it was just myself at the helm with nothing else in sight for hundreds of miles. With the ever increasing population of the planet, it is hard to ever imagine yourself in these situations and is definitely surreal. This was one of the things I had been looking forward to the most and was now finally getting to experience it.
Only with the occasional issue we sailed on for the next few days sighting only two cruise ships, a few gulls, and lots of flying fish. It was now Tuesday night, May 31st. We had 400 miles under our belts. 50 miles to go. We were thinking of the beers we would be having the next afternoon in Isla. I was just starting my night shift around 2 am and off the starboard side, there was a bright light that began etching a burning beam across the sky. At first I thought, I was just seeing some weird reflection or other phenomena but I jumped up and watched the line grow and grow across the sky. I thought the only other time I had seen anything like that was when I saw the shuttle fly over Austin one night on its way to land in Florida. Working for NASA and keeping up with the STS-134 mission, I knew the timing was about right for it to return but couldn't believe I could have been that lucky to be sailing on a boat in the middle of the Gulf and see the final descent of Space Shuttle Endeavour. Turned out that I was that lucky however our luck was about to run out and upon taking the plasma trail in the sky as a good omen for the rest of our journey, I could not have been farther from what the future held for us. In other words, don't hire me as an astrologer.
To be continued......
