Dry Tortugas Day 9 (Marquesas to Key West)

I tuned the radio to weather channel 2 and adjusted the squelch, the scratchy voice that came through was forecasting waves of 1-2 feet and winds around 15mph out of the east. Our plan for the day was to head to Key West for some fuel and a Turtle Krawl happy hour. We hadn't intended on motoring as much as we had so the 10 gallons I had brought left me a little leery we would have enough to finish the trip. Key West was around 25 miles to the east and though there was a chance of rain, the weather looked (sounded) good on the NOAA report. We pulled the anchor and once again reluctantly left the beautiful Marquesas Keys.

A couple hours into our trip just north of Boca Grande we saw dark clouds rolling in and it was obvious we were about to get wet. We threw up the dodger, buttoned everything up and just minutes later came the gully washer. Waves weren't bad but the rain was blinding and driving sideways, the rain like pebbles and the wind like the slingshot shooting us in the face. Once again the squall was short lived and only lasted about 10 minutes, we did have a few of these over the next hour or two.
We could see Key West in the distance when I finally got LTE on the Ipad and looked at the radar. What I saw made a knot form in my stomach, a red and yellow cell about half the size of Florida centered on Key West and we were headed directly into the red.
The winds were already picking up when I told Peyton to put on her orange vest. You see the orange vest is reserved for those moments when something bad is imminent. The kids each have their heavy duty type 1 big orange vest with flashing lights, whistle and reflective tape, they know it's not a good thing when they are told to put it on. There is only one thing in the boat worse than being told to put on the big orange vest, that's to put on the big orange vest and grab the ditch bag!


Peyton in her berth staying dry

Just as we reached the north channel the storm descended on us and we felt the temperature drop as it got very dark. The wind increased, the waves built and we were hunkered down ready for whatever was dished out, or so we thought. It wasn't long before we had 50mph winds, driving rain and waves crashing against the hull. I had expected wind, but 50+mph was far more than I was expecting or had ever felt up to this point. We mad the turn into the north channel and the storm threw up a wall stopping us in our tracks. I increased the throttle and my focus shifted from making progress to just maintaining position. It was everything I could do to keep the boat pointed into the wind, I was in a channel without many options but I did my best to hold my ground. At one point the compass on the GPS spun 180 degrees and we were making almost 1 knot,,, backwards.. Colby and Jess peeked around the dodger and kept an eye out for the lobster pots that were littered inside the channel while I did what I could to just steer with the compass. I could see nothing, I couldn't rely on my GPS but knew I could trust my compass. In the past we had experienced squalls but this was no squall, it was a storm and I wondered how this was all going to turn out.

At one point the wind got the best of me and the boat got caught beam (sideways) to the wind. We heeled over hard to the side and I heard things crashing below, I turned the boat hard to starboard but couldn't get the bow back across and into the wind, more throttle did nothing. Finally I fell off a little with my sea room shrinking rapidly and 2ft deep shoal waters around me, I then cut the wheel back and was able to stand her up again as she cut through the wind and waves. Between the current, 50mph wind and waves she still held her ground. For over an hour and a half we fought as the green and red marker of the north channel stayed to our sides. Later I reviewed our satellite tracker only to find that the entire time we didn't move 1000 yds. At this point we discussed anchoring the boat and waiting the storm out but there was still commercial traffic coming in and the visibility was almost non existent. I knew this was going to be a long storm and that something as simple as a clogged fuel filter could spell disaster to our boat, our home and our trip. At this point I decided to call Sea Tow just to advise them of our situation and to see what their status was. I informed them of our current location and told them we could use a little assistance getting into the channel. The dispatcher said it would be about 30 minutes and we thanked her and kept up the fight while we waited for a little boost getting us in.

Sea Tow is a towing service almost like AAA is for cars. They will tow you if you break down, bring fuel if you run out and pull you off if you run aground. We always try to be self sufficiant, kedging ourselves off if we run aground, not running out of fuel and sailing our way in if we break down. However I paid almost 200 bucks for the coverage and it runs out in December so I figured why put the crew through the beating when we can just get pulled the last bit in.

Not long after the winds dropped to around 30mph and we began to make headway, though the current was still ripping. I asked Jess if we should call and cancel SeaTow and she pulled up the radar and gave a resounding "No" there was more yellow and red just minutes away. I had made my way to an area that showed about 15ft of water off to the side and knew I had more room to maneuver if needed, but about that time the flashing lights of the SeaTow boat came pulling up. "Ya'll still need a hand?" the young captain looking at us and then the sky. I said "yeah if you don't mind we could use a hand getting in before round two hits" with that he threw us a bridle and I attached it to the front cleats. The line pulled taut and we began to fly through the water as the captain throttled up the big outboards. At one point we were exceeding hull speed to race the storm with the boat moving 8.2 kts. It wasn't long after we hooked up we felt the winds begin to increase.

The only photos taken of the entire ordeal during a lull in the storm

We were pulled around Flemming Island and into the city mooring field where we unhooked the towing bridle, fired the motor up and picked up a mooring ball just as the winds clocked up and the rain started. We thanked the captain and headed below to get out of our wet clothes and try to stay dry as the rain beat down and the wind howled outside. The Key West city mooring field is nothing like Boot Key harbor, almost no protection and we were rocking and rolling for hours as the storm moved through. We settled in for the night and relaxed, tomorrow we would head in and do a little exploring, but for the rest of the night we rested, protected from the fury outside and in our own little sanctuary.

Dry Tortugas Day 8 (The Long Road Home)

 Awake before the alarm, surprising since I had been up late looking at different routes. I knew the winds would be dead on our nose & directly from the east around 10-15kts with wave heights 2-3 feet. The problem with forecasted wave heights is the dominate wave height is many times twice the significant height, meaning occasionally we would be getting 4-6 foot waves as we plowed through the chop. The forecast the rangers had been so nice to print also showed a good chance of multiple squalls during the crossing. For the non sailors out there a squall is a quick strong storm that in the words of Capt Ron "Come on ya quick and leave ya quick" you've just gotta ride it out. 

The skies looked great as we prep'd the cabin. I sat in the cockpit with my cup of coffee and plotted our course, entering all the coordinates in the Garmin GPS. It was a beautiful morning and we all felt good about our trip, even though none of us wanted to leave. We had spent our time well, saw and did all there was to do, just wish we could have done more of it! I fired up the Yanmar and let her warm up, knowing this was her day to shine. Our trip would rely on the cast iron sail today, there would be very little if any chance of sailing.   

Morning sun rising over Fort Jefferson

Colby and I went to the front deck and prepared ourselves to pull the 150ft of chain I had let out, along with the 55lb Rocna anchor. Jess was at the helm and ready to give us a couple bumps in forward to help us muscle it in. The chain and anchor came up without a problem, Colby and I were ready to collapse on the deck, our arms feeling rubbery like a Stretch Armstrong. We made our way out of the park and back into the open ocean. On the way out to Tortugas I had taken the southern route, now going home I decided to take the northern. It looked a little better and I can't stand to take the same way twice. 

The first couple hours went well and we were making around 4kts but quickly approaching the Rebecca shoal area of the trip. This is the area that caused the ocean to act strange on our way out and I wasn't exactly excited to go by it again. I had set my waypoint for Newground Rocks and would then squeeze between this point and the ominous "Quicksands". Jessica was below preparing some snacks for the trip and the kids were both partying like it was 1899 reading books! Peyton also had her fair share of knot tying practice. It was very satisfying to see them enjoying a book or doing something completely unrelated to video games, computers, or TV. Part of the reason we enjoy this life is the detachment from "needing" electronics or TV. As I sit here in the community center of the Marathon city marina Peyton and Colby are both reading books right now while the TV in the lounge remains silent. 

Like clockwork we passed above Rebecca shoal and the ocean got a little confused. I did feel good about my decision to take the northern route after seeing what would have hit us to the south. However the wind was building and the clouds were gathering for a squall. Normally there is a very noticeable temperature drop when a system is about to hit and this one was no exception. Just about the time we were preparing to hunker down the shout of "Lobster pot!" threw a stick in our spokes. Jessica grabbed a portable radio, threw on her offshore inflatable vest with harness and made for the bow to guide us through the maze of prop destroying poly line and styrofoam floats. I was leery about Jess going to the front with a storm front about to hit but someone had to do it and someone had to steer. Jessica knows if she fell off the boat we would get her picked up right away, she doesn't feel confidant enough to feel that she would be able to get the boat back to me if I fell off and even if she did getting my big ass back in the boat wouldn't be a walk in the park, so she would rather have me at the helm.  

As the winds picked up, so did the waves and we finally got those 4-6 footers we were expecting. The bow would rise up proudly and then crash down into the next wave like a battering ram. One reason we picked this boat was her rugged seaworthiness and she didn't disappoint as she sliced and pounded through the chop. With the wind and the rain joining the party Jessica was in for a ride. She kept the lobster traps in sight and somehow kept me from snagging one and fouling the prop. This would involve diving over the side of the boat with a knife and trying to cut the line while holding my breath, as the waves sent the stern pounding down above me (NOT FUN). I'd watch as green water poured over the front deck where Jess was sitting, knowing she just got a sea bath. Wave after wave soaking her as she guided my course. What a trooper.. 

The problem developing was an increased wind, waves and current all funneling from the same direction. This reduced our forward progress to sometimes less than 2 kts. We would have progressed quicker if we were walking! I've always said that would make a good Tshirt "Sailing, only slightly faster than crawling" At this point I also began to feel the ocean drawing me towards the "quicksands" to my south. The boat felt as if I was the last lone toy in the bathtub with the drain pulled. I kept my course the best I could as the shoal water begged me to come play. There is a reason there are so many shipwrecks in this area, I didn't want to add to that list. The squall lasted a good 30 minutes and as we passed north of the shoals the ocean began to calm. Our progress however didn't improve much and we were already a couple hours past the time it took us to get to the Tortugas, with several hours to go. At this rate it would be a race to make Marquesas by dark and that anchorage is tricky enough in the broad daylight. 

Soaked

My view through the dodger

We managed to make Marquesas right before the sun dropped out of the sky. We dropped the anchor in almost the exact same spot we did on our way out, set the hook, attached the snubber and relaxed. The skies cleared and became a rainbow of colors beyond description. As amazing as the photos looked, the beauty of what we were seeing couldn't be captured, you had to see it. Jess and I prepared dinner as Colby dropped a fishing line over the side. As dinner simmered on the stove I grabbed the Nikon and attempted to stuff a little piece of heaven in my camera.

After dinner we settled in for a good nights sleep in the protection of the Marquesas we knew it would be a smooth one. I was able to pickup NOAA on the radio and listen to the weather reports, very thankful we left when we did. The next 3 days were forecasting waves 4-8 & 6-8ft with more severe storms and much stronger winds around 25kts, these would have been directly on our nose and would have made for a very uncomfortable trip to say the least. A couple sips of rum made sleep come easy and I drifted off to the sound of the weather report.

Dry Tortugas Day 7 (Night at the Fort)

After a little rest and some dinner we decided to go into the fort to watch the sun set from the top wall. We hopped in the dinghy and headed to shore, sore from all the swimming and sun earlier in the day. Colby tied up the dinghy after a successful beaching and we made our way to the docks. Earlier that day the park rangers said they would download, print and post an updated weather forecast for us and post it in the dockhouse. There is nothing in the Dry Tortugas, no cell phones, no radio, no contact. You can't get water, dispose of trash, take or leave anything. Needless to say we were thankful the rangers were willing to help us out finding a weather window. Now we didn't have a really tight schedule, but we had one. Jessica had to be back to work on Wednesday and it was Friday evening, plenty of time, or so I thought. When I looked at the forecast I let out an audible sigh. The only day in the 7 day forecast that didn't look bad was the next morning. After that it was a week of low pressure and strong headwinds with high seas and almost non stop storms, it was either leave in the morning or say another week. We did have our satellite communicator and were having such a good time we thought about sending a sat message to try and get Jessica's shift covered but decided it would be best to leave while the getting was good. With that sobering news, we headed into the fort to enjoy what would be our last night. 

Touring the fort at night is a unique experience, the entire place takes on a new feel and even though we had spent countless hours here during the day it was a whole new experience at night. We made sure we were at the top of the fort wall as that big orange ball bounced over the horizon. There was a lot to do when we got back to the boat and time was ticking, none of us wanted to leave. 

Racing the timer for a family photo.. Doh didn't make it!

Barely made it!

We did make time for a few last minute hermit crab races before launching the dinghy and sloshing our way to back to Kainoa. 

Tomorrow the long trip home..