I bought a sailboat in 2000. It was my first blue water vessel, a 30 foot Hunter. She was stable and fast. With the confidence and bravado of a rookie I set off from Miami to sail her solo around Key West into the Gulf of Mexico, north to Shell Point, Florida, which was to be her home port. The trip from Miami to Key West was uneventful, stopping for a night in Key Largo.
I spent a very nice week in Key West making upgrades on the boat and partying.
The trip north was a different story.
Sailing Northwest my first full day at sea was a beautiful sunny day with good winds and almost no waves. I was sailing for Marco Island, crossing Florida Bay to make a marina there. Florida Bay looked like a minefield of crab trap buoys, they were everywhere. I turned to look at my wake and saw that I was dragging a trap caught on my rudder.
I had a moral dilemma at this point. I could easily cut the line and go on, or actually go down and free it from my rudder. I decided that the trap was someone’s living so I tied myself to the boat and went down to free it. When I got in the water I realized there couldn’t be anything worse than my rope coming lose and watching my boat sail away, but it turned out well. I freed the trap and continued. The wind died down and I went under power. Unfortunately, I hadn’t checked the fuel gauge and I ran out of fuel. I had an extra can of fuel and put it in the tank.
If a diesel engine’s fuel line runs dry the fuel pump keeps running and gets air in the line. If this happens the engine will not start even with more fuel in the tank. It’s called Vapor Lock. It happened.
The wind picked up and made it to Marco. The problem was I had to call a tow boat ($250) to get me into the marina; I couldn’t just sail into a slip. This was a very nice marina with several guest services. All I wanted was a shower and a mechanic to fix my engine. They had mechanics at the marina that were working on a huge yacht at the end of the dock and pushed a huge tool box by my boat twice a day but they told me they were booked up for a week and couldn’t help me now. I asked if they knew any other mechanics in the area and they told me they didn’t allow outside mechanics in their marina, well shit.
I stayed a couple days trying to fix the problem to no avail. Finally I had to get another tow back to open water. I then headed toward Sanibel Island, my next stop where I had a friend. I had great wind this day but still another tow into the marina.
Everything seemed fine; the dock master told me he would get me a mechanic in the morning.
I was enjoying the time with my friend and her boys when the dock master called and told me I had to vacate the marina because there was a hurricane about to hit, well shit. Another tow out of the marina and I headed, under sail for another marina upriver who would take me in. I had to get under a Bascule bridge that stops traffic. I radioed the bridge operator to wait to open the bridge until I told him because I had to get the sail angle at the bridge just right with no motor. After a couple tries I made it under the bridge and was faced with a really strong current coming against me. Several boats went upriver past me, including a Coast Guard boat. I tried to hail them, but they just kept going. Needless to say, I didn’t make it to the other marina so I put out three anchors and hunkered down to ride out the storm.
Luckily we only got the top of the storm and it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Never the less, it was strong enough to blow my boat, anchors and all, adrift. During the night I could feel the Ba-bump of the keel bumping along the bottom and wondered where I would wind up. Sometime during the night I had drifted against a bunch of Mangroves and stayed there. The marina I was trying to get to had radioed me the night before and asked me if I needed a tow and I said, "No, I think I’ll be fine." .............. dumb move.
The next morning I radioed the marina to send a tow. I gave him my coordinates and he found me among the Mangroves, and told me I was five miles from where I anchored.
It was just another one of those things that happen because of a stubborn and egotistical rookie mistake on my part by not getting a tow the evening before.
When I got to the marina they already knew about my engine problem and had a mechanic on the way.
I hugged the tow boat driver and thanked him for rescuing me. They said I was either very brave or very stupid, for not taking the tow the evening before, take your pick.
The mechanic came and fixed the very minor problem with the fuel line and showed me how to bleed the line if it ever happened again. Loosen one bolt on top of the engine and reach under for a little pump handle that clears the line. It took him two minutes to fix it. At this point I was highly agitated with the marina at Marco, because they wouldn’t take two minutes to help me, and told the mechanic about it. He told me about an old maritime law called Safe Harbor. In effect it means that if your vessel is disabled you can go to any marina and claim Safe Harbor and they cannot charge you for parking. Wish I knew that before, because the marina would have had a mechanic on my boat in minutes. This is funny now, but not then.
The next day I had a great time with my friend and her boys. With a motor we got out and sailed all day. I grilled burgers and the boys got to sail the boat. As we got ready to go under the bridge to get back to the marina I let the youngest hail the bridge operator. I don’t think they will ever forget the time they had on the boat that day. I left Sanibel happy and confident that all was well with the boat and made it to my next port of call, Clearwater.
I made it to Clearwater with no problems. Spent the night there, fueled up and left the next morning for my longest leg of the journey, Clearwater to Shell Point. This leg is normally about a 36 hour trip and the marina at Shell Point and my wife knew that I had left port and was on my way.
Ok, this is when Murphy’s Law kicked in again. Leaving Clearwater I got into open water and about half an hour later my prop fouled on a crab trap, overheated and blew every water hose on the engine.
About an hour later my autopilot broke and I was left having to manually steer the boat all the time. When I tried to roll in the Jib or front sail the first night, something had happened to the automatic roller furling. I had to bring the Jib down completely because I couldn’t roll it in, and couldn’t put it up again; this meant I was left with only the main sail. Because I was sailing solo, it also meant I had to anchor at night to sleep. The first night was ok. The next night brought high winds and seas. I was one hundred twenty five miles from shore. My anchor held, but the boat rocked seriously to and fro. The next morning the seas were, 12 to 14 feet. I set sail again and fortunately the seas, although high, were trailing, meaning they were coming at the boat from behind. At times I could surf down the face of a wave and almost reach eight knots, that was fun.
I don’t usually sail with my radio on because of the squelch. But on my third afternoon at sea, and reaching my last sea marker I turned it on. In a minute I heard the Coast Guard broadcast a watch for an overdue sailboat with a captain named Walter Hardester. I radioed back laughing and told them it was me, the lost at sea sailor who was not lost, but on course, just a little tardy. They made a bit of a deal about who I was and I had to go forward and get the numbers off my boat. It turned out fine all was well. My soon to be friends from Shell Point Marina came out about ten miles and towed me in.
In the end most things turn out alright, but sometimes the journey can be a real test of our perseverance. I must say, I never once felt unsafe or unsure of my abilities to adapt and survive.
Fine yarn. It is easy to underestimate the Gulf. I remember Sanibel when it was accessible only by ferry and dolphins would perform along the shore for the lines of cars waiting in line to cross.
That was quite a trip! Crap happens. Crab trap minefields don't sound like fun. You are really lucky that that hurricane wasn't worse or you may have had a wrecked boat on your hands.
A coworker of mine was born in Hawaii and a veteran sailor, Capt. Nemo when it came to sailing regattas in San Francisco Bay. Anyway, Terry wanted me to become half owner of a 32 foot wooden 1949 folkboat. I was leaving California that summer, and because of my paralyzed hands and arms, there was no way that I could operate or maintain that boat.
Terry bought the boat anyway and a couple weeks before I left he took me and his family out on the Bay for an evening run. He put me at the tiller and I sailed around Alcatraz. The fog came in and the boat got wet all over. The next thing I knew I was on my back in the bottom of the boat because my feet slipped off the rib I was bracing on. I clambered back up and grabbed the tiller again.
When we got back to his berth at Alameda, it was beautifully calm. Terry took the tiller from me and cruising about 4 kn, did a beautiful 90° turn directly into his berth, ran from the back of the boat across the foredeck, jumped to the dock and gently stopped the boat with his hands. I don't know if the boat had a motor, but Terry sure was skilled.
After about 30 years, he sold the boat, but continued to race in regattas and teach sailing into his 90s.
Life is a journey that can be a test of our perseverance. If only we could spout off "Safe Harbor!" I enjoyed your story which is a testament to Murphy's Law. All's well that ends well.
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I bought a sailboat in 2000. It was my first blue water vessel, a 30 foot Hunter. She was stable and fast. With the confidence and bravado of a rookie I set off from Miami to sail her solo around Key West into the Gulf of Mexico, north to Shell Point, Florida, which was to be her home port. The trip from Miami to Key West was uneventful, stopping for a night in Key Largo.
