So good to be back

Kintala is holed up in Factory Bay at Marco Island for a few days. We would like to be on our way, moving toward meeting up with Blowin' In The Wind on the other side of the state. Daughter Eldest and Family dropped the dock line yesterday, their first day of being a cruising family. They are taking the short cut to the East side while Kintala makes her way around the Keys. The weather, however, suggests that we not be in a hurry to make the corner. Seas out that way are in the 5 to 8 foot range, right on the beam, and forecast to be that way for the rest of the week.

Factory Bay seems a much more enjoyable option. It is also a good place to get back into the gypsy live style of wandering around on a boat. Rose Marina has a very reasonable $5/day Ding parking fee, the staff open and friendly every time we have stopped by. There is a fabulous ice cream shop just a short jaunt away. A couple of blocks further is a West Marine and a Publix. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Heading into town also reminded me of just how much of our society is built to accommodate cars. Most of the time at Snead Island we had access to a car. Joining in with the flow of traffic while heading off to do errands was so natural as to go unnoticed. But cars aren’t really natural. And walking among them into town was a reminder of just how unnatural they are. An unnaturalness that, sometimes, seems to seep into their operators. Though we had a benign and enjoyable foray, it was hard to miss the hostile looks that some of the drivers shot our way, apparently just because we were walking. 

Walkers push the little button at a busy intersection and all car traffic gets delayed for a few seconds to give those not traveling in an armored vehicle a chance to get across the street without getting squished. Some of those vehicle operators appear to take offense at the few moments extracted from their day, nosing as close to the “walking lane” as possible while firing looks of contempt at those backward enough to be relying on their feet for transportation. When the looks come from inside a hulking black pickup truck standing tall and gleaming with chrome “bling”, it seems best to pick up the pace a little.

I have a tendency to be a slow walker.

And sometime, given the right incentive, I tend to walk even slower.

“Best” is, sometimes, a matter of opinion.

Traffic jam in the anchorage

West Marine lay on the other side of the intersection, and we stopped by to get a new safety lanyard for the Merc. It is a thing that stops the engine should one fall off the Ding while underway. This prevents it from motoring off into the sunset while the erstwhile helmsman splashes about in the water or, worse, tries to get out of the way as the Ding makes an uncontrolled circle. (For those who haven’t replaced their car with a Ding.) A bit of plastic on a string for 20 bucks. Apparently the safety switch on outboards is, in no way, a standard item. The one we bought from West Marine has about 7 different little plastic bits to fit an assortment of different safety switches. Which is why it costs 20 bucks. There was one at the Marina store that costs $8, but it only had one little plastic bit, and that one didn’t fit the Merc.

Ah well, it beats splashing about in the water.

Come evening we sat in the cockpit watching the sun set, admiring the skill of the pelicans as they ghosted across the water in ground effect. At the same time a huge flock of some kind of terns wheeled in concert high above the bay. Noise from work happening on shore had died away, and all was well in our cruising world.

It is good to be back.

On the move, slowly.

This morning Kintala nodded to the rising sun from Factory Bay, Marco Island. We stopped here on the way north and, except for bumping the ground on our first attempt to gain the anchorage, liked the place. There were no such dramatics getting in this time, “previous tracks” are a marvel of modern navigation.

Leaving Charlotte Harbor

Where we did bump the ground was exiting the canal in Punta Gorda two days ago. “Bump” isn't really the right word, “stuck fast” is a better description. Trying to get away early in the morning on a falling tide maybe wasn't the best choice. But there was a long day's sail ahead and, well, stuff happens. So after paying four years' worth of premiums to Tow Boat US, we finally got the opportunity to try out their service. Barely an hour after fudging to a stop in the soft and sticky mud (and providing the morning entertainment for those walking and fishing in the park), Kyle had pulled us free and out into deep(er) water. No harm, no foul, and excellent service all around.

If you sail the ICW, don't leave home without it.

We had been giving longer, outside runs to the Keys serious consideration. Two or three nights worth of passage making would have had us there already. Assuming, of course, one didn't get tangled up in one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of crab pots polluting the water even miles off shore. I know, crab fisherman need to make a living, and people like eating crab. But the crabbers have effectively confiscated the west coast of Florida for their own use. Picking one's way through in the day is possible, though in bigger waves than the ones we have seen so far it would be difficult. Trying it at night is a pure crap shoot. Maybe next year we will try the “sail 50 miles west during the day then turn north or south as appropriate and be on your way” approach. For, truth to tell, the combination of crab pots and shallow water is getting rather tedious.

Great Blue Heron in the Venice Inlet

Still, we are in Factory Bay, on the hook, and it is sure good to be back to our chosen way of living. We even had sundowners with newly met friends, who are also new to cruising. We met on Rascal, their 42 foot Jeanneau DS. Good folks on a sweet boat. Reasons to come this way.

There hasn't been a lot of sailing going on yet. Yesterday, just after leaving the channel off Sanibel Island, we saw a glorious hour of reaching, starting out with the two reefs in main left over from the last romp with Daughter Eldest and Family. (Yep, its been that long since the main was put to serious use.) We had to heave-to for a few minutes at first to reconfigure the auto pilot from “tiller pilot” to “wind vane” mode. That is every bit as much of a pain as it sounds, but that's what happens when one layers back-yard engineering onto marginal-in-the-first-place equipment. It all works and we have learned to live with it. In fact, I am a bit proud of how well it seems to work most of the time.

As the winds faded, we shook out first one reef, then the other, hanging onto the sailing as long as we could. Eventually though, it was clear that night would fall on the lurking crab traps long before we would gain the entrance to Marco Island. No need to heave-to for the auto pilot reconfiguration this time. Kintala was effectively drifting in placid water.

Figuring it out as we go. Stumbling a bit once in a while. But still making progress. Not too bad. Not too bad.

Thanks, Dave for teaching me that this was an Aninga not a cormorant.

The duplicate of the Vietnam Vet Wall located in Punta Gorda, FL

The Captain is happy to be on the move again.