Feeling a little guilty …

Kintala has found her way to the Miami Stadium anchorage after two nearly perfect day sails. The first saw us leaving No Name for a place called Sands Key. No Name is fun, protected, and has good shore access. We like it. But after a week of sharing it with about as many of my fellow human beings as could be jammed into the place, sanity called for a change. Sands Key was the perfect antidote. One other boat was parked not that nearby with the next nearest being miles away. City lights shown on the west horizon, even more miles away. To the east was pure night filled with stars, and we slept the sleep of the truly privileged.

This morning at the anchorage

This morning dawned perfect for slipping on a sweatshirt and sipping coffee in the cockpit. Clear water, quiet winds, and the promise of a good day's work using the forecast south winds to head back north (just for the shear fun of it) made the coffee taste that much better. And, after sailing off the anchor, that's exactly what we did. It took several tacks to work our way out between the shallows and back to the channel. Jib, staysail, and main kept us tight on the wind and moving quick. Once clear, Kintala put the winds to her stern. The main and staysail were tucked away for the rest of the day, and the jib pulled relentlessly north. A few downwind jibes got us to the Rickenbacker Causeway near high tide, and it was an easy motor into the anchorage.

Back in the heartland, winter drags on. Daughter Middle put up a post on her family sight about sniffles, coughs, runny noses, and the relentless weight of yet another snow storm and more near zero temperatures. With the clan housebound, she mused of loading them all into the van, driving to Florida, swimming to the Islands, and joining us on the boat. (They wouldn't have to actually swim to the Islands as we haven't gotten that far yet.) How can Grampy T not feel at least a little bit guilty over not having enough boat to fit them all?

Another mystery boat. Anybody know what this is?

Having such a boat, of course, would mean having a boat full of money. It seems to me that accumulating such boat fulls of money usually (not always, but usually) requires hurting someone, stealing from someone, or taking money off of stupid people. The first two are no-goes for me, but the last? Maybe I should have been a boat broker? Or perhaps a TV evangelist? My last paycheck came from a casino company, which is kind of like taking money off of stupid people. Anyone playing the slots with the idea of striking it rich has about as much a chance of that happening as they do of having a TV preacher punch their ticket direct to heaven. Unfortunately those who own casinos keep most what they get from the not-so-bright. Not much of it trickles down to those who actually do the work of providing a satisfactory and enjoyable gambling experience for our valued guests. (The same is true of every business I have ever run across.)

Henry the wind vane steering the boat.

Alas, boat brokers, TV evangelists, and casino owners are not my favorite kinds of people. Looking in a mirror and seeing one of them looking back would be a disappointment. Still, if that mirror was hanging in a boat big enough for a full crew of Kids and Grand Kids …

But such is not the case. So tonight I think of loved ones far away, hoping their winter of discontent ends soon, and that, someday (a few of them at a time) manage to find their way to Kintala; in wherever non-winter place she may be.

Puttering

put·ter³

ˈpədər/

verb

North American

gerund or present participle: puttering

1. occupy oneself in a desultory but pleasant manner, doing a number of small tasks or not concentrating on anything particular.

   "early morning is the best time of the day to putter around in the garden"

   • move or go in a casual, unhurried way.

     "the duck putters on the surface of the pond"

And such a day it was. When you're stuck on the anchor waiting for a weather window and it's the kind of day you don't have any big plans, it frees up time for those smallish projects that just sort of pop up. You know, the "hey wouldn't that be nice to do..."

Yesterday the plastic Command Strip phone holders that we had on the bulkhead by the companionway stairs finally gave up the ghost and had to be taken down. They had already cracked once upon a time when I was coming down the steps and happened to bump into them. I pulled them off the wall (thank you Command Strips for the lack of markings on the wall), and sat there looking at the space. A design began to form for a teak replacement, much classier than its predecessor. After peering into various cubbies where we store bits and pieces of leftover teak, I came up with enough to craft the new phone rack. A few hours of cutting, sanding, gluing, and polishing and we now have a pretty class act holder.

Part of installing the new phone rack was drilling holes through the bulkhead for the mounting screws. On the back of the bulkhead is a mirror behind the door into the aft cabin. I've always wondered why they put it there since you can't really ever see in it and I figured it would go a long way toward brightening the aft cabin if it was moved around to the wall inside. Five minutes and four screws later, it was done.

A few weeks ago Tim had removed the box that used to house the old instruments and used it to house the new solar controller. He was able to leave the glass from the instrument holder in place to act as a sun port to help brighten the aft cabin. We weren't sure what we were going to do with the edges of the aluminum tubes that held the glass but, after some thought, decided on edging it with some very nautical looking nylon rope tied with very proper reefing knots.

After a suggestion made in passing to Tim a couple days ago about moving the control lines for Henry, our wind vane, I came home from doing laundry to find he had already done it.

The control lines used to go down to the coaming, making a 90° through a padeye and then to the blocks. It was difficult to set the vane because of that 90° turn.  It also involved moving any cushion you happened to be comfortably resting against so I had made the suggestion that we move them up to the stern pulpit and it really will help tremendously when we're under sail.

It's little things like these that make such a difference in the daily living on a boat. We're putterers, for sure, and will always be doing some little thing, but this was a particularly productive bunch. Kintala is smiling tonight.

Miscellaneous pics

An awesome oyster boat from 1884 that used to be a sailboat and was converted to steam and now diesel. The guy brought it all the way from Mystic, CT down the ICW.

There was an influx of Man-of-War jelly fish into the harbor yesterday. It was bad enough that they had a warning posted at the gate of the park.

This guy (girl?) is here in the harbor all by his lonesome. He sleeps in the tree right next to our boat.

This last one was from Dinner Key right before we left.

View from my galley window

This catamaran is a custom design modeled after the gunboat hull but there the resemblance stops. The bridgedeck is completely custom as is the interior. Completely breathtaking. And it's for sale: 1.3 million. Anybody want to donate to The Retirement Project?

Too, too long ...

Bye Bye Dinner Key Mooring Field

Bye Bye Coconut Grove

Kintala is anchored outside of No Name Harbor this evening. As expected No Name itself is completely full of boats getting ready to cross to the Islands. Word has it they are looking at an early morning start time, around 0200 in the dark early. Outside and around us sit more than a dozen additional boats aiming for the same start time. Most are sail with a few power sprinkled around here and there. (Including one gorgeous Nordic Tug 42). Tomorrow is forecast to be a perfect day for crossing in a power boat, with fading winds, mild seas, and rain. If Kintala was a power boat with an inside steering station, muchas motor, full time heat, a snoot full of gee-wiz navigational systems, and an auto-helm, we would probably be going as well. But she isn't. And we aren't. Motoring through rain with nasty weather breathing down the stern is not why we came this way. Though, truth to tell, the window appears a bit larger than it looked yesterday.

Also, this looks like a huge herd of boats heading to Bimini. I get twitchy around herds, and Bimini isn't all that huge. I'm not sure where all these boats think they are going to end up. But whereever it is, it better be a place to sit out a 30+ knot blow, because that's what's reported to be chasing them across the Gulf Stream. I have visions of being the last in to find all slots taken, the only place left outside and exposed to the rollers coming off the Gulf Stream in 30 knot north winds.

Bye Bye Floating Bear

Even with enough slots, once there it looks like everyone will get to sit for a couple of days. Not that pretty much anywhere in the Bahamas is a bad place to sit, but Kintala is going to sit out the ugly in No Name. There should be plenty of room come morning. And for people like us, who spent a good many of their winters in the frozen Mid-West, pretty much anywhere in Biscayne Bay is a good place to sit as well. Not the Islands, but not bad. I'm pretty sure any of our old friends on Carlyle would trade places with us in a heartbeat, and the Islands will be there in a week or two. No one is keeping score on when we go where, or why, or how. We are completely content with just being on the move once again.

Maybe the new marina building will finally be done the next time we're back...

And it was time to be on the move again. After 60+ stationary days, this morning saw Kintala's crew going through the pre-launch routine with a certain deliberation. Getting underway again always feels awkward after sitting for a while. At 1300 the WesterBeast shuddered to life, the mooring lines were untangled, un-rigged, untangled some more, and stowed away. Several friends called on the radio to wish us “fair winds” as we made our way out the channel. There we joined in a parade of boats reminiscent of our first brush with the ICW. (There are a lot of boats moving around these parts this weekend.) As is our want when the sailing is good, we missed the turn toward No Name heading down the bay on a close reach instead. It was just too good a day to go straight to a destination barely 5 miles away. The head sail flew solo at first. Later we added the main. Then – after the turn around – the staysail joined the show. Kintala, close-hauled with all her canvas pulling, is a sight to see.

What in the world are those white thingies?

The day was full of unexpected delights. After months of absence we had dolphins swimming nearby once again, always a nice surprise. We hoisted, trimmed, and flew the entire rig with nary a mishap or fouled line. Not a single “oops”. Not sails going up. Not sails coming down. Not getting off the mooring. Not setting the hook. Which was also a nice surprise. And the cockpit, with the revamped Bimini frame? Nothing short of “WOW”. I would never have believed that a few inches added here and there would have made such a huge difference. Moving into, out of, and around the cockpit is noticeably easier. Sitting is more comfortable. Sight lines are better. It is like someone cut the aft end of the boat away and grafted on a whole new one.

So pronounced was the difference, so easy the sailing (remember, this is only the third time we worked the staysail with a furler), and so perfect was the day that – just for a moment - I thought to myself …

“If I'm not careful, this boat may turn into a well founded, perfectly serviceable, live-aboard sailboat. I might even (wait for it) actually learn to LIKE this thing.”

I know, I can't believe it either.

Clearly we were on the mooring ball way, way, too long.

Our friends Nate and Jen's one of a kind junk-rigged schooner custom built from an Allied Princess

Our friends Paul and Deb on Kelly Nicole getting chased out of town by a gaggle of power boaters

They escaped fast!

Lots of sailing going on in Biscayne Bay this lovely Sunday afternoon.

Anybody know what this is?

A very happy Captain

The end of a very good day.

A good day ...

The intention was to spend most of this month sailing around Biscayne Bay. Not to be too blunt, I need the practice. Even after 2000 nm Kintala still gives hints that she isn't always happy with the way she is being handled. But Sister Sky had different ideas about the things that might go on during November this year in southern Fl. So, instead of sailing, our old Tartan collected bottom barnacles in Middle River, Miami Stadium, and then in No Name Harbor. After weeks of constant F5 winds we finally left No Name this morning and got in a good day … in steady F5 winds. (In addition No Name has a 2 week limit per visit. Don't tell anyone but today was day 13 for us. I like No Name, but it was time to move on.)

It is about 5 miles from No Name to the Dinner Key mooring field. Kintala covered a bit more than 20 today. We were having so much fun out romping that we kind of went the long way around. We practiced different sail sets, hove to, and generally tried to get a little better at making the boat go. One thing we pretty much verified is that, often, we simply don't drive the boat hard enough. With the jib alone we were doing a solid 5+ in mid teens winds with gusts in the low 20s. Going south we found a bit more wind and decided to roll up the jib and fly the stay sail. Kintala did not approve. Speed fell to the high 3s as the boat wallowed around and generally misbehaved. The stay sail was rolled back in and about two-thirds of the jib went back out. The speed picked up to the mid to high 5s and flirted with 6. The boat danced happily through the waves. Lesson learned. When the winds blow, fly enough canvas to keep the speed well above 5, but not so much as to set the boat on its ear.

Somewhere in all of our tacking and jibing the jib leach line tore out and the sumbrella got a couple of rips in it. Not sure how that happened but, it must be admitted, Kintala's suit of sails is a bit weary. The only real party dress she has in her closet is the nearly new main sail. To keep from doing any more damage, the jib got benched and the stay sail went back in play. That is not enough horsepower on a broad reach unless the wind is flat howling. Force 5 is short of howling so we put up a double reefed main in an attempt to balance the boat with the small head sail. It worked pretty well. This was the first time we flew two reefs with a purpose and getting all the rigging squared away took the deck monkey a few tries. The top batten got caught in the lazy jacks and, being on a reach rather than close hauled, the leeward running back was in the way. (Tight on the wind - which is when we usually fly the stay sail - we normally leave both the running backs set as the boom never gets that far from the center of the boat.)

Adding to the fun, just when we were set to drop the main and enter the channel into the marina and on to the mooring field, a sneaky little storm slapped us with heavy rains and wind gusts into the 30s. Visibility went into the dumpster and, soaking wet in the cold wind, so did the crew body temperatures. It was a busy couple of uncomfortable minutes but the main fell cleanly into the lazy jacks, the stay sail went - not so cleanly - onto its furler, and the WesterBeast picked up the traces. Once in the mooring field Deb made a perfect pass at the ball but I missed the catch, forcing her to go around through the clutch of boats to give me another shot. This with more rain and the winds gusting into the 20s again. One of the reasons we get along so well is that she never makes much of my mistakes. I will do the same as soon as she makes one.

Photo courtesy of Leave Happier Photography

So we have joined the rest of the crowd getting bounced around in the mooring field this evening. Winds are still a solid F5 running to F6 when the storms pass nearby. There is still some deck work to do and the dink needs launched, but it will have to wait until morning. The constant work of the day has set my forearms on fire, though a cold Coke & Vodka is helping to damp the flames. (Kintala is suffering a lack of Rum at the moment … not sure how I let that happen.) Tomorrow we go into full project mode and in a couple of weeks we will make the trip to meet New Grand Daughter Edie and see family not hugged for more than a year.

Since Kintala will not move again until we stage for the Islands, it was good to get this day of sailing in; rain, wind, torn sail, and all.

Whether you go or Weather you don't

As many of you know, Tim and I have been working on writing a book together. We're writing the book we wish we had had in our hands before we bought Kintala. As I've been working on it this past week, one thing that has hit home hard is this issue of the weather. I can't say it loud enough. I can't say it often enough. If you're going to go cruising, your life will be ruled by the weather. So get comfortable with it, learn to read it, surround yourself with all sorts of ways to monitor and predict it, and fill your Kindle up with lots of books for when it laughs at you.

We've been stuck in No-Name Harbor for 13 days now waiting on the weather. We had wanted to sail down to Key Largo or at least Elliot Key before we take a mooring ball at Dinner Key for the month of December. It's a longish day's sail down there so we would really need 3-4 days to sail down, spend some time snorkeling, and sail back. The longest window we've had in the 13 days since we got here was 1-1/2 days. Both Elliot Key and Key Largo are only good if the wind is from the East. They are too exposed for any other direction. The forecasters had predicted 8 + days of N-NE winds at 15-20 but suddenly it changed to East so we thought, "OK now we can go!". We got the boat ready to leave the following morning and, on one of my middle-of-the-night bathroom visits I peeked out the porthole only to discover we were faced due South. South. Exactly where we wanted to sail. Having no interest in motoring 8 hours to Key Largo we decided to stay put. Weather gods rule. Now where is my Kindle???

Thanksgiving II

Our first cruising Thanksgiving on Kintala was in Oriental. We had been out barely six weeks. Four of those six had been spent during a long month of being tied to the dock while we struggled through cold temperatures and ugly storms, both weather and broken-engine related. Looking back it seems an even worse start to our cruising life than it felt at the time, and it felt pretty grim at the time. It was also the first Thanksgiving spent without any of the family nearby. I was as unsure of myself as I have even been, desperately missed my girls and their families, and was not the least convinced I had the skills necessary to make things better. But there was no choice other than going on and hoping that things wouldn't get any worse. Yet that Thanksgiving day was still a good day. We were thankful that we had made it out at all as many people never get a chance to even try to live their dreams. We were thankful that we had managed as many miles as we had; that the engine and other maintenance tasks appeared to be under control. And, not to put too fine a point on it, I was thankful that I had not manged to kill us both and/or sink the boat ... at least so far.

A year later Kintala is floating easy in No Name Harbor. People ask me for advice about many things cruising, about our “experience” in the Islands, on how to safely get across the Gulf Stream.  They ask about fixing their boats and judging the weather, and that is something that still surprises me. On the other hand the attrition rate during the first year of cruising seems much higher than I would have expected. Being a cruiser is not the same as planning to be a cruiser and, for some, the difference becomes crushingly obvious very quickly. Anyone who is looking forward to a second year has climbed an enormous learning and experience curve. One that is very much behind us on this Thanksgiving II.

We still have much to learn (and I still desperately miss my girls and their families), but this is our life now and we have gone a long way into settling into it. A large part of that has been setting aside what we thought cruising meant to us, and accepting what we it does mean to us. We are not "blue water adventurers" but rather a middle-aged couple who managed to retire a bit early to go exploring in nearby waters. I admire friends who have sailed around the world and who plan to keep going, but there is no chance I will be following in their wake. I like sailing. I like that we have put in some 2000 nm while using - maybe - 200 gallons of fuel, including motoring down the ICW. I like being out on the open ocean with no land in sight. I even like sailing at night, so long as it is one night at a time. But I really like sitting out unruly weather snug and comfortable in a pretty place, puttering around on my boat, meeting different people, and exploring different places.

Good friends, good food

In that mellow light, Friends Mizzy and Brian (of sailing about half way around the world fame) and Friend Bill (of Airline driving fame) joined us for Thanksgiving dinner on Kintala. Deb worked galley magic and our feast had all of the fixings. Sailing and flying memories filled the cabin. The combination of friends, food, and sitting quietly at anchor while the remnants of the latest cold front brought perfect weather, made for a day so fine as to take one's breath away. It doesn't always work out this way, but on this day we managed to be among the Royalty of the world. We have family who loves us in spite of our wandering ways. Deb still trusts that I will manage to not sink the boat or kill us both, and keep our Tartan as a functioning home at the same time. Friends sail waters nearby and far away. Being an accepted member of that tribe is an honor bestowed on the few and the lucky. 

This was a thanks giving day, indeed.

A small No-Name Harbor Photo Essay

The lighthouse in Bill Baggs State Park

A slightly damaged Great Blue Heron. Wonder who took a chunk out of him?

An awesome cat boat. Spent some time talking to the Captain who is from Spanish Wells.
Neat guy. He took it there today.

There are some amazing and very weird trees in the park

A gorgeous Hylas 54 headed out of No-Name

Fishing at sunset

A manatee came to visit us at the pumpout dock.
He was easily eight feet and HUGE.
He also had very bad breath.

Tim got to pet him while Kintala looks on. It doesn't get much better than this.