I'm not sure why this happens. Yesterday we woke in No Name Harbor with every intent to get to the store then move the boat outside once again. We got to the store okay, then sort of ran out of motivation and spent another night. This morning we woke up in No Name Harbor and, before I even got out of the berth, knew it was time to get going. Same harbor, same weather, and we have no schedule. But it was time to go. We made a touch and go at the pump-out (never pass up a free pump-out even if the tank is only half full) then sallied forth into the bay.
The winds were perfect for flying both the main and head sail and Kintala settle into a day of close-hauled reaching, tacking back and forth across the Bay. We ran down a ketch rig flying jib and main but couldn't hold tight enough to the wind, particularly when it faded a bit by late morning. They passed us under motor power, but we were content and Kintala kept a good pace. Indeed, the winds picked up again and we ran down the bare poled, motoring ketch just as we reached the ICW cut that gets one through to the southern part of Biscayne Bay, Kintala still flying a full suite of sails with the Wester-Beast lying silent.
I have to admit that, as much as I struggle with this boat sometimes, when it comes to laying down the miles without cranking up an engine, she has few peers in the cruiser world. Not as opulent as some when it comes to living aboard full time maybe, but she is a happy under canvas ... and so are we. In other words it was a very, very, good day of sailing.
Eventually we dropped the hook about a half mile west of Elliott Key. Back in Carlyle I used to think about dropping the hook in the middle of the lake. Not only would that have put the Corps bugs as far away as possible, it just seemed like it would be good practice. My thought was cruisers park in some pretty wide open places sometimes and we should try it out. They do ... we do ... and we should have. Eight miles of open water lies to our west. There is 23 miles of open water to our north, and 55 to our west-south-west. There are boats parked all around us.
Cruisers park in some pretty wide open places sometimes. Our depth meter read 2 feet when we dropped the hook, the tide range in this area is just over a foot, yet most of the boats are much closer to shore than is Kintala. Curious. But we are in clear, warm water so I donned mask and flippers, flopped in the water, and measured the actual distance between the keel and the white sandy bottom. Thirty-eight inches. We have a foot of fudge factor between ZERO on the gage and when Kintala actually bumps. This, me thinks, is a good thing to know.
We may move in closer tomorrow. We may not. Right now there is still this big, shit-eating grin on my face from just flopping in the water and measuring the distance between the keel and white sandy bottom. Try that in Carlyle.
Later the cold front moved through instead of stalling like it was suppose to. A bit of rain backed by the setting sun was more spectacular than worrisome, and it should be a comfortable night. All is well in Kintala land this evening.
The winds were perfect for flying both the main and head sail and Kintala settle into a day of close-hauled reaching, tacking back and forth across the Bay. We ran down a ketch rig flying jib and main but couldn't hold tight enough to the wind, particularly when it faded a bit by late morning. They passed us under motor power, but we were content and Kintala kept a good pace. Indeed, the winds picked up again and we ran down the bare poled, motoring ketch just as we reached the ICW cut that gets one through to the southern part of Biscayne Bay, Kintala still flying a full suite of sails with the Wester-Beast lying silent. | ||
| Hmmmm...oh yeah. Sails. That''s what those are... |
I have to admit that, as much as I struggle with this boat sometimes, when it comes to laying down the miles without cranking up an engine, she has few peers in the cruiser world. Not as opulent as some when it comes to living aboard full time maybe, but she is a happy under canvas ... and so are we. In other words it was a very, very, good day of sailing.
Eventually we dropped the hook about a half mile west of Elliott Key. Back in Carlyle I used to think about dropping the hook in the middle of the lake. Not only would that have put the Corps bugs as far away as possible, it just seemed like it would be good practice. My thought was cruisers park in some pretty wide open places sometimes and we should try it out. They do ... we do ... and we should have. Eight miles of open water lies to our west. There is 23 miles of open water to our north, and 55 to our west-south-west. There are boats parked all around us.
Cruisers park in some pretty wide open places sometimes. Our depth meter read 2 feet when we dropped the hook, the tide range in this area is just over a foot, yet most of the boats are much closer to shore than is Kintala. Curious. But we are in clear, warm water so I donned mask and flippers, flopped in the water, and measured the actual distance between the keel and the white sandy bottom. Thirty-eight inches. We have a foot of fudge factor between ZERO on the gage and when Kintala actually bumps. This, me thinks, is a good thing to know.
We may move in closer tomorrow. We may not. Right now there is still this big, shit-eating grin on my face from just flopping in the water and measuring the distance between the keel and white sandy bottom. Try that in Carlyle.
Later the cold front moved through instead of stalling like it was suppose to. A bit of rain backed by the setting sun was more spectacular than worrisome, and it should be a comfortable night. All is well in Kintala land this evening.
2 comments:
Sounds like that would be the ideal place to set the offset in your depth sounder.
I always set mine so it gives me the depth from the deepest part of my boat.
Bill Kelleher
It looks like a good place to get rid of the fudge. The pics of the various skies are awesome....
Post a Comment