Southbound Part Three : New Friends and Near Collisions

We woke up Sunday morning, in lazy weekend fashion, well after eight o’clock. The evening before we had decided that we’d set off a bit later than usual, timing our departure with the rising tide. Our route for the day would take us through Coon Pass, a narrow and shallow channel that winds between Marco Island and the Florida mainland, and out into the Gulf to Indian Key Pass, which winds inland to Everglade City, our next destination. We wanted to navigate Coon Pass while the tide rose because it would give us a bit more depth to play with, and in the event that we were to ground our boat, the rising tide would hopefully be enough to lift us off the channel floor and set us free.

According to our charts, Coon Pass would be impassable in one or two places, with a depth of three feet, and barely deep enough in many others at four feet. However, we know that the underwater landscape is always in motion and that the charts aren’t always accurate. So we turned to the internet and the people who share their personal sailing journeys including specifics such as current depth, GPS coordinates and detailed directions. Following some thorough research, Adam found a handful of sailboat captains who had done the route within the last year on boats that draw more than our Lil’ G does, and he used those accounts to make notes and chart specific paths through the shallower areas. 

We had chosen this route, and were assuming the risk associated with it, in order to avoid the Cape Romano Shoals, which are ever shifting shallow sandbars that extend up to 10 miles off of the southern tip of Marco Island into the Gulf. By avoiding the Romano Shoals, and opting for the route through Coon Pass, we shortened the distance to Everglade City by 15 miles and we figured, even with the delayed start, we’d make it there before dark. 

A few minutes before noon, with high tide peaking at two o’clock, we pulled up our anchor and set off down Coon Pass. Mack stood up on the bow watching the water sweep past and keeping an eye out for any hints to help determine the depth. Adam stood calmly at the helm, while I followed our position on the charts and helped to direct him through the markers and along the routes he’d planned the night before. I’m not sure if it would have been more or less stressful with a depth gauge, but I spent the whole time nervously watching our location on the charts and glancing at the murky water looking for, but hoping not to see the bottom. Despite my nerves and no depth gauge, we cruised down the pass with ease and emerged into the Gulf only an hour and a half later. Then we raised the main sail and the working jib, and set a course for the channel entrance that would take us to Everglade City. 

It was a beautiful day, with calm seas and great wind. Exactly what we had been hoping for after the previous, hectic afternoon, and the slightly nerve wracking morning. We set our course and Lil’ G just cruised along the coastline. A little before 4:30 in the afternoon we came up on the marker to the channel entrance. We lowered the sails, cranked up the motor and headed up Indian Key Pass to find the North Carolina Outward Bound Base Camp in Everglade City, where our wonderful friend Bart used to work. He recommended that we stop there for a night to meet some of his good friends and fellow co-instructors, and do a bit of Everglades exploring. We followed a path of dark, calm water through a maze of mangroves, enjoying the late afternoon tranquility and natural beauty. 

Less than an hour later, we arrived in the quaint little town of Everglade City. Docks and patios, backed by cute little homes, lined the channel on the right of us, and to the left sat a floating dock on the edge of a large, green yard with a beautiful home and a scattering of smaller buildings and palm trees. It looked like an old, tropical farm property surrounded by water and lush mangroves. As we passed by and admired it, we noticed the sign. It read North Carolina Outward Bound Base Camp. We had been assuming that the base camp was farther up the channel, in the heart of Everglade City, but as I expressed our assumption, Adam said, “I’m sure there’s only one.” We turned around in a wide part of the channel and approached the docks, where a few people sat reading and soaking up the sun. I waved first and then hollered, “Do you all know Bart Blankenship?” To which they responded yes, just as we thought they would. We asked permission to pull up to their dock and were welcomed. Mary Rachel stood on the dock and introduced herself as we climbed off and tied up. We explained to her that Adam had taken a veterans course with Bart the previous year in the Keys and he highly recommended that we stop by to see if we could tie up to their dock for a night and explore the area. She was so welcoming, and invited us to stay the night and join them for dinner. OB crew and a veterans course who had just returned that evening from a canoe trip for dinner. Then another staff member, John, joined us on the dock, introducing himself and wanting to hear all about our sailing adventures. We shared stories of our journey thus far and he shared a story of sailing to the Keys with Bart. Then they gave us a quick tour of the property and invited us to use the showers and make ourselves welcome. 

Day 7 : Route from Marco Island to the North Carolina Outward Bound Base Camp in Everglade City 

Before dinner the Outward Bound staff, a veterans group that had returned from a course that evening, and the three of us, all circled up in the main house for introductions and an inspirational reading. Then we hopped in line and plated ourselves up an amazing dinner of slow roasted pulled pork with homemade barbecue sauce, the best potato salad I’ve ever had, corn on the cob and a big green salad with veggies. We all sat down together at a long table and between bites, shared Outward Bound stories and other stories of travel and adventure. After dinner we continued the conversation in the living room and enjoyed a slide show of photos from the veterans course that had returned that evening, along with a slice of homemade key lime pie. We climbed back on the boat that evening with warm and full hearts, high on the feeling you get when you meet amazing new people, and share great conversation and laughter. 

The following day we decided to take a trip into town for some provisions and then lend a helping hand to the staff in exchange for their generosity. We caught Russ, one of the directors, as he walked down the dock parallel to where Lil’ G was tied up and asked him for directions to the store and inquired about what we could do to out around the base camp. After a brief conversation we parted with plans to meet up again in the early afternoon. As he approached the end of the dock, he turned around and asked “Do you know our process for getting over there?” He was looking toward the opposite side of the channel and the buildings that lined it. We had all been assuming that there was a road that connected the back of the property to a bridge that crossed over the water and a road that led to town. Thinking this must not be the case, we all shook our heads in reply. He chuckled and pointed, “Oh, well, see that stack of canoes over there?” He gave us a quick rundown on where we could find the paddles and life jackets, where to slide the canoe into the water, and where to pull it out and store it on the other side. 

We gathered the equipment, slid the canoe down a ramp alongside the dock and enjoyed a nice paddle across the channel. Once we stacked the canoe on the other side and stowed the paddles and lifejackets, we walked a couple blocks to a new coffee shop everyone had recommended for some morning brew. Then we stopped by the grocery store to grab a few items before rowing back across to the wonderful little base camp island. 

We sat in the shade of a large tree to eat lunch and discuss our options for the days to come. We liked the idea of hanging out for another day to explore more, but after looking at the weather and wind predictions, it looked like we had a perfect two day window with sunshine and 5 to 15 knot winds, followed by a day with 15 to 25 knot winds predicted. We decided to hang out the rest of the afternoon and then head down the channel to the Gulf as the tide went out around 4:30 and anchor on the other side of Indian Key from the Gulf. That way we’d have some protection form the land and surrounding mangrove islands, but also be right on the Gulf so we could wake up early and ensure we’d arrive at our next anchorage before we lost daylight. We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for our departure and helping the guides who had returned the previous day pack up gear from the trip. Then we said farewell to our new friends and thanked them for their hospitality. 

We pushed away from the dock and quickly slipped across the channel to the opposite dock, which discouraged trespassers, but was lined with palm trees and abandoned coconuts. As I held the boat against the dock, Adam and Mack went to retrieve some a couple armfuls of coconuts. When the guys returned we pushed off from the dock and headed back toward the Gulf. We glided down the channel, with the current helping to push us along, and anchored between just east of Indian Key. Then we took a late afternoon dip to cool off and sat out on the deck husking and eating our bounty while the sun set.

Day 8 : Route from Outward Bound Base Camp to Anchorage near Indian Key

The following morning we woke up before the sun and prepared for a long days sail to Shark River. Between making coffee and raising the anchor, I took a quick break to photograph the sunrise, a beauty I rarely witness with my own eyes. 

We had an absolutely perfect day of weather and wind. We set our sails and our course and pretty much just cruised. Mack took the tiller for a good portion of the day while I lounged on the bow reading and Adam cast out his rod. While I was sitting up front some dolphins surfaced not far off and I stood up to get a better look and waited for them to surface again. After a minute I assumed they had swam below us and off behind us, and turned my head toward the back of the boat. Then I got a good startle, when I heard a large splash right in front of the bow of the boat. I turned just in time to see two dolphins slip below the surface. I peered over the edge, hoping they’d return. Then I saw two smooth gray backs and fins approach the surface and pop out just below me. It was amazing, to be able to watch them play like that, with us and our boat, less than five feet away. On top of a beautiful, relaxing day of sailing, it was the highlight of our southbound trip for me. After a couple more playful leaps they disappeared again and we returned to relaxed positions on the boat. A few minutes later, Adam got a bite and reeled in a spanish mackerel. It was a beautiful catch, but being spoiled by a much larger one early in the trip we decided to return this one to the sea. 

We made great time to Shark River and set our anchor in the first little cove in we found not long after four o’clock. We practiced what had become our late afternoon, early evening ritual, with some splashing about in the water. Although the name of our chosen anchorage made us all a hair nervous, so it was less splashing about and more of a quick dip. Then we enjoyed cocktail hour while we watched as another five or six sailboats joined us in the cove and set their anchors. I spent nearly the whole time asking, “How far do you think that boat is from us?” Then before either of the guys could answer, I’d add “I don’t feel comfortable with how close they look to us.” I am discovering that the idea of colliding, at a high speed or with almost no speed at all, with another boat is an absolutely terrifying thought. Anchoring in crowded spots, as well as entering marinas and busy channels, all have my heart racing and my hands shaking. Finally, Adam was able to convince me that none of the boats would collide in the night, unless an anchor didn’t hold, which was completely unlikely in the calm wind that was predicted. That, along with a couple of beers, helped me sleep in peace, waking up and peering out of the portholes only once. 

Day 9 : Route from Indian Key to Shark River

The next morning we woke up just before sunrise again and quickly prepared to set off on our last day of the journey, with nearly 40 miles to our final destination, Boot Key. I pulled up the first anchor as Adam helped with the motor. Then I began pulling in our second anchor, which we were aware might be directly under another sailboat that had anchored after us. We had warned them of our anchor placement the evening before but no one but me showed concern. Each foot I pulled up inched us closer and closer to this beautiful, nearly brand new boat. I kept looking back at Adam with a “not gonna do this” expression, until he came to the bow and reassured me that everything would be fine. He assured me that as I pulled us closer he would be ready to fend off the other boat and if needed, would push them out of the way so we could retrieve our anchor. Although I trust my husband wholeheartedly, his reassurance didn’t make me feel any better. I just didn’t like the idea of pulling our boat into their boat, whether it was going to result in a catastrophic collision or not. I was almost hyperventilating as I pulled the anchor chain up, with my head down, refusing to look up and witness whatever was going to result in my pulling. Then just as Adam gently laid his hands on the mounted dinghy of this other sailboat, a gentleman appeared on deck and in a frantic voice said, “Whoa, one of us is slipping.” Adam explained that in fact we were just trying to retrieve our anchor and the other gentleman was fine with us gently pushing his boat out of the way. Despite, I was still having a nervous breakdown internally and focused all of my nervous energy and stress on getting the anchor up. Once we had it on board, we (Adam and Mack) waved to the couple and we motored out into the Gulf. 

We had a fairly long day ahead of us, but with conditions mimicking those of the previous day, we set our course, sat back and enjoyed the beauty of the water and the company of one another. The consistent wind pushed Lil’ G along, while we all took turns at the tiller, navigating the vast minefield of lobster traps that lay in the hook of shallow water between mainland Florida and the Keys. We all swapped between the helm position, navigating Lil’ G, and the bow position, whose job it was to keep an eye out for harder to spot buoys, marking lobster traps below the surface. We took great care in avoiding them because, in theory, the line that connects the buoys to the traps could get caught on our rudder or motor prop, causing damage and slowing us down or throwing us off course. I added “in theory” because, luckily, we haven’t actually discovered the extent of damage caused by running over a buoy and catching the line. Maybe it wouldn’t actually catch on the boat or be a problem at all, but we didn’t want to find out. 

Lil’ G, and our own skills I suppose, surprised us that day as we made great time and kept another, much nicer sailboat on a similar course from catching up to us until the end. They had set off from Shark River also, about thirty minutes behind us and didn’t overtake us until just before the bridge approaching Boot Key when they lowered their sails and cranked up their engine sooner than we did. 

The sun was still fairly high in the sky as we lowered the sails and started the motor, about a quarter of a mile from the bridge. We scooted below the concrete giant and then slowly started turning east toward Boot Key. No longer than twenty minutes later, we were a few hundred yards from the mangrove shoreline, scouting out an anchorage among the other ten or so boats anchored there. We passed through a few and squeezed a little closer to shore before setting our two anchors. Then after a rum toast to our journey’s end, we did what we had become accustom to the past week, and jumped off for a swim. The water was a murky teal color and felt like a sun heated pool in summer. It was a refreshing end to the afternoon sail, but I viewed it more as a salty taste of the month to come in the Florida Keys.

Day 10 : Route from Shark River to Boot Key

Southbound Part Two : Afloat and A Tow

Adam’s alarm started ringing a few minutes before eight and we both struggled to open our eyes. We had slept less than two hours, but we couldn’t afford to hit the snooze button and we both knew it. Almost immediately, Adam crawled out of the Vberth and climbed up on deck. He gave our Mercury motor a quick pep talk and tried starting her up. I laid below listening to the sound of the pull cord being yanked out and then snapping back in, hoping each time that it would be followed by the sound of our little motor turning over. 

After a few minutes, I got up and started making coffee, while Adam did everything he could think of to get the motor running. He replaced the spark plugs, the fuel filter and the kill switch. Then he checked and cleaned all of the connections, but she still wouldn’t start. We looked at one another, Adam’s eyes were thick with frustration and exhaustion, and we both knew that it was time to forget about the motor, pull the anchor and raise the sails. We hoped for enough wind to get us to the entrance of Boca Grande Pass, which is located three miles out in the Gulf at the end of two impassable shoals that line the channel on the both the north and south sides. We were around eight miles away from the channel entrance and a total of twelve miles away from the protection of Charlotte Harbor, with only five or six hours before the bad weather was due to set in.

We sailed close hauled (as close to the wind as a boat can sail) in light wind for around two and a half hours and were slowing approaching the pass, but also slipping farther to the west than necessary to reach the first channel marker. We tacked and held the same point of sail, heading southeast toward the shoals that line Boca Grande Pass. We planned to tack again once we got close to the shallows, in hopes that we would then be able to hold a course directly for the channel marker, and eventually slip into the pass. As we continued out into the Gulf, the wind picked up and the chop grew. When we reached the edge of the channel fairway, we tacked and began sailing southwest once again. The surf was beating against the bow and starboard side, rocking the boat in a complex but methodical rhythm. We were still over three miles from the entrance, and beginning to face the reality that we probably weren’t going to make it into the channel before the approaching weather. 

After some discussion, we decided to turn and sail parallel to the pass, toward the shore of Gasparilla Island. Then we’d attempt to sail through the narrow Swash Channel that leads into Charlotte Harbor, just between the island shoreline and the long stretch of shoals that line Boca Grande Pass. While Adam and Mack managed the sails, I read as much as I could about Swash Channel, in our Florida cruising book and online, on my phone. Everything warned of shallow depths and shifting shoals and battling currents, but since our boat draws less than four feet and our motor wasn’t working and a squall was quickly approaching, we agreed that it was the only option we had. Mack and I stood on the bow, keeping a close eye on the visible sea floor and estimating the depth. (Have I mentioned yet that we discovered early in the trip that our depth gauge doesn’t measure anything shallower than ten and a half feet? Yeah, that made things a bit tricky at times and more exciting, in a thrill seeking sort of fashion.) Adam steered the boat close to shore and into the narrow channel. We were almost all the way through when we were forced to tack, to avoid a shallow section just off the the southern tip of the island, and we lost most of our speed. We could see the water churning in front of us, where the two channels merged and the currents collided. We were afraid that without enough speed, they would push us aground, either against the beach or the shoals lining the pass. We quickly decided that it was too risky and turned the boat around and sailed back out of the channel and along the coastline. Then we set an anchor a few hundred feet from the beach to discuss the empty list of options we had. 

Day 3 : Route toward Boca Grande Pass and Attempted Swash Channel (The anchor symbol in the lower right corner is where we had initially planned to anchor once we reached Charlotte Harbor, but we ended up docked a bit farther east.) 

Adam grabbed the VHF radio, turned it on and we huddled together to listen to the weather and sea forecast. It warned of a small craft advisory going into effect that afternoon and we knew we couldn’t stay anchored out in the Gulf. We had to get into the harbor and find a protected place to anchor or tie up. I walked to the back of the boat and, in a low and calm voice, explained to our outboard motor how important she is to us and how much we love her. Then Adam and I both tried starting her up again but she just didn’t have any life in her. The only option we had left, (a HUGE thank you to our friend Bart who highly recommended we buy towing insurance), was to call Boat US and request a towboat to come get us and tow us into the harbor.  

Captain Rich, with Tow Boat US, pulled up alongside Lil’G about thirty minutes later and after a few questions and brief banter, he quickly explained the towing process and tossed us a couple lines to hook to the cleat on our bow. Then he set off, looking back often to make sure all was well, and pulled us with ease through Swash Channel.

Less than fifteen minutes later, we were in the harbor and the protection of the surrounding land was evident in the calmer wind and water. Captain Rich called us on the radio to tell us that our best option was for him to tow us to a small marina near the Tow Boat headquarters on the northern tip of the town of Bokeelia, where we could tie up for a couple days and have our motor looked at. The location also offered perfect protection from the southern wind that was predicted to build to over 25 knots that night and continue through the next day. His plan sounded like a great deal and since we weren't familiar with the area, we were happy to hear his recommendation. Around two o’clock Captain Rich helped us nose our bow up into the marina dock. We jumped off, secured our dock lines and thanked him profusely for his help. We all quickly slipped into a relaxed state and the guys crawled into their berths for some much needed sleep. 

I was sitting outside chatting on the phone as the natural light dimmed and the leaves on the bushes behind me began to rustle loudly. I stood up and turned around to walk back to the boat and in front of me the sky was black, with a defined cloud line looming over the trees on the far side of the marina. I climbed on the boat and began cleaning up lines and stowing anything below that I didn’t want to get wet. I could see lightning high in the clouds to the west and was just finishing up when the rain started falling.

The weather woke the guys up and we all sat around the table, listening to the pounding rain and the thunder, with smiles on our faces. We were so grateful to be in the protected harbor, tied up to a sturdy dock, rather than slamming around out in the Gulf. Especially grateful when Mack chef’d up some BBQ pineapple meatballs with rice. Yummy. 

The following morning we woke up well after the sun. While I fixed coffee and breakfast, Adam called the mechanic that Captain Rich had recommended for outboard motor repairs and began some troubleshooting over the phone. I stopped what I was doing to help him test the spark plug and the second time he pulled the cord, I didn’t think I saw a spark, but it sure sounded like she wanted to fire up. Adam removed the spark tester, reattached the spark plug and pulled the cord again. Maybe it had been the 36 hour break, maybe it was that we had no plans of moving that day, but she fired right up. On recommendation Adam ran her at half throttle for thirty minutes, before turning her off and trying to start her again. Once again she fired right up. After a few more words with the mechanic over the phone, reading some blogs and forums online, and studying the motor, Adam concluded that we must have repeatedly flooded her by pressing the fuel bulb on the motor and that a dirty carburetor wasn’t helping. We started her up a handful of times throughout the day without any further issues and were still somewhat stumped, but very happy that she was back in action. We spent the rest of the day relaxing and made plans to continue south the following morning. 

The next day we headed out into Charlotte Harbor to link up with the ICW and follow it down to Sanibel Island, where we would return to Gulf waters. The winds were quite calm considering the weather the previous two days, but the sun was shinning, the sails were up and we were happy to be back on the move.  

While Adam and Mack held down the deck, I slipped below to make them an extra special Valentine’s Day breakfast. I cooked up some banana pancakes with peanut butter and maple syrup, and some pineapple upside down pancakes with coconut syrup. Gotta show them boys some love!

We slowly floated, the sails pushing us along at a graceful pace, down the ICW. When we neared the eastern tip of Sanibel Island, we tucked Lil’ G up in between some small mangrove islands and set our anchor. Then we did the only thing that seemed fitting after a warm and relaxing day on the boat, we dove off for a swim. Mack and I went first and after some reassuring words about the warmth of the water, Adam followed. 

After splashing around for a bit, we cracked open some beers and enjoyed the beautiful sun set, followed closely by a spectacular moon rise.

Day 5 : Route from Bokeelia to Sanibel Island

The following morning, we woke up fairly early and motored toward Sanibel bridge and out into the Gulf. Then we raised the sails and set a course for Marco Island. The day started out calmly, with decent wind and a bit of chop, but as we neared Marco Island the wind picked up and shifted a bit, and the waves grew larger. About a mile out, we decided to lower the sails and motor the last stretch to the channel entrance, on the north side of the island. 

Adam was at the helm, maneuvering Lil’ G toward the channel entrance, with the waves building behind us and then dropping away. Every minute or so, the motor would get almost completely submerged in a wave and then when it passed, the propeller would lift out of the water, causing Adam to have to throw it into idle or neutral. I was sitting in the cockpit, nervously staring at the shoreline in the distance, when I noticed Mack, up near the bow, jerk backwards and whip his hat off. He waved it in front of his face and then paused, looking back to inform us there was a bee buzzing around his head. Despite what he thought, the bee hadn’t left, but instead found Mack’s arm and dung its stinger in. That’s when Mack informed us that he is allergic to bees. He and I quickly climbed into the cabin and he knelt on the floor, letting his arm hang down to keep it below his heart, while I began searching through the med bag for bendryl. Meanwhile Adam did his best to keep the boat moving forward while the motor dipped in and out of the choppy waves. I found Mack some Benadryl and climbed back out into the cockpit to check the charts and find the closest establishment we could dock at in the channel, just in case we needed to get Mack to a hospital. 

Thankfully, as we entered the channel about twenty minutes later, the benydryl began kicking in and the waves started to smooth out. It looked as though we’d all live to see another day, and so that evening when we raised our beers, we said a toast to that.  

Day 6 : Route from Sanibel Island to Marco Island 

Southbound Part One : Spanish Mackerel and Star Gazing

The day before heading southbound to the keys, we said goodbye to Blenker’s Marina. But before we did, we double checked our to-do lists and crossed off the completed tasks, finished stowing all our gear and provisions, and Mack learned how to throw a cast net from our neighbor Ben. 

And not an hour after he picked the thing up for the first time, he caught us a mullet for dinner. Yes, the successful fishing had begun! 

Adam cleaned it and we put it on ice while Mack tried to catch another. He successfully caught a few jellyfish and a little trumpet fish, but no more good eatin’ fish. The sun was high in the sky, the afternoon creeping up on us quickly, so we decided it was time we say goodbye to our neighbors Ben and Milly and a few other friendly folks we’d gotten to know during our stay there. 

Then we boarded Lil’ G, threw the dock lines on for the last time and waved farewell. Adam and I sailed up the Manatee River while Mack kindly drove our truck up to Palmetto so we could park it at Bart, Tyree and Teal’s house while we ventured south. 

We set our anchor in the Manatee River, near Bart’s boat Revival, which is moored just off shore, about five blocks from his house in Palmetto. Then we lowered the dinghy, mounted the motor and Adam set off to find Mack. 

About an hour later, I saw them headed back to the boat and went up on deck to greet them. They motored in close to Lil' G and then Adam swung the motor to the side, throwing them into a series of dinghy donuts. Mack sat on the bow holding his cowboy hat, both their heads thrown back in a fit of laughter. There's no doubt they're still kids at heart and I love witnessing those raw moments. After a few minutes of play, they pulled up along side the boat and I held the bow line while Mack climbed out. At that same moment both Adam and I noticed that the back of the dighy was deflating quickly and the motor was sinking into the water. Adam unscrewed it from the mount and passed it up to me. Then he climbed out and we began hauling the damaged dinghy out of the water to see what the problem was. As we pulled the bow off the water, Adam told Mack “this better not be your fault.” I thought he was joking, but then he went on to say, “I warned you about that rock with the oyster shells on it.” After further conversation, it turns out that Adam wasn’t as clear as maybe he should have been. “Sharp” is one way to describe them but as Mack agrees, “like razorblades” would have made the point more clearly. It was in fact a small slit in the bow of the boat, where Mack had let it lightly drag over a rock with oyster shells on it. That’s why we have a patch kit though, so I dug it out of the dinghy repair box and Adam set to work, while Mack worked on catching us some more dinner fish with the cast net. Then before we lost daylight, Adam put on his climbing harness for a trip up the mast to replace the anchor light and steaming lights. Mack helped haul him up while I took a lookout behind the lens.  

After the days tasks were complete, we sat out on the deck and enjoyed some cold beer, the setting sun and some banter about the trip to come. 

Photo by Mack Talley

Then we slipped into the cabin, and the boys chef’d up some fantastic fresh mullet tacos with peppers, cabbage, cilantro, avocado and lime juice. If this was how we were going to start off the trip, my husband and good friend catching fresh fish and cooking them up for me, I was more excited than before!  

Monday morning, Adam and I left the boat early to run a few last minute errands in town and when we returned to Lil’ G, we found Mack hard at work with the cast net, trying to catch us dinner for the second night in a row. We climbed aboard and all quickly set to work prepping the boat for our departure. We raised the dinghy, dried it, deflated it, folded it and strapped it to the deck in front of the mast. Then we prepped the jib (the front sail) and sheets (the lines used to control the jib), as well as the main sail. After we double checked that everything in the cabin was stowed and secure, we raised the anchor and set off. We planned to sail down the Manatee River into Tampa Bay, and then follow the Intracoastral Waterway between Anna Maria Key and the Florida mainland down into Sarasota Bay. (Actually, the exact same route that we took when we first brought Lil’ G up to Blenker’s Marina from Sarasota, just in the opposite direction.)

The wind was blowing from the northwest which pushed us nicely through Tampa Bay and then beckoned us to tack a few times in order to avoid the shallow shoals and enter the ICW at the markers. Once we were inside the channel markers, we were able to run wing on wing downwind until we reached Ana Maria Bridge, the first of two bridges on the stretch to Sarasota Bay.

When we neared the bridge, we fired up the motor and dropped both the sails. We waited a couple of minutes for the bridge to open and then motored through, waiving to the traffic stopped above us. We cruised onto the second, Cortez Bridge, and were happy to discover that we arrived a few minutes early, rather than a few late. After we passed under the bridge, we raised the sails again, let out our trolling line, and sat back. We flowed down the ICW under sail, slowly but calmly, and enjoyed the view along the way. I was at the tiller when Sarasota Bay opened up in front of us and I heard a strange rattle behind me. I turned around and noticed the trolling line was unraveling and quickly grabbed it. Adam and Mack joined me in the cockpit and quickly confirmed that something was fighting on the line. Together they reeled in and netted a good sized fish with sharp teeth. 

Adam held the net down in the water while Mack retrieved our Gulf waters fishing guide. After a few guesses and a few pages flipped, they discovered it was a Spanish Mackerel, “Excellent” for eating. Fresh fish two nights in a row, it almost seemed to good to be true.

We approached our chosen anchorage on the northern end of the bay, a quiet area with nice protection from the north winds predicted for that night. We set our anchor about a thousand feet from shore, pulled out the Sailor Jerry bottle and said a cheers to a great first day and fresh mackerel for dinner. 

Day 1 Route : Manatee River to Sarasota Bay

The following morning, we woke up just after the sun and set sail for Venice, about 25 miles away. The wind was extremely light, so we motored down Sarasota Bay toward the Ringling Causeway, and then through Big Sarasota Pass, out into the Gulf. 

Out in the Gulf, we raised the sails and all sat out on the deck, enjoying the sunshine, smooth seas and good wind. Around two o’clock, we were only about two miles away from Venice, our destination for the night. Adam figured (without saying anything out loud) that it was a perfect afternoon to practice some emergency drills. He moved to the back of the boat and pulled out a fender. I turned around to see what he was doing, and with genuine curiosity started to ask, “What are you doing with...”, when he chucked it overboard. Immediately it made sense, and I yelled, “Man overboard!” Then I stood there frozen, Mack staring at me with a look of shock. I started whipping my head back and forth from the fender floating away, to the wind indicator, to the sails. Adam stood behind me, saying nothing as if he had actually fallen overboard, while I scrambled to guide the boat back to the fender with Mack’s help. After an unsuccessful tack that brought us somewhat close but not within recovering distance, I calmed myself down a bit, focused on all the tactics I’ve learned and waited for the fender to float away again. Then I positioned it a little past 90 degrees from the boat’s heading and when it seemed the proper distance away, around one hundred feet maybe, Mack and I tacked again and sailed toward our overboard “Adam”. Once we got close, I was able to turn up into the wind a little bit, in an attempt to slow us down, and Mack was able to retrieve “Adam” from our port side. Although it wasn’t a smooth process and Adam did have to give me a few hints after I missed the first time, I was happy it took us around ten minutes (not any longer) to retrieve our fender from the water. 

After our somewhat successful man overboard drill, we headed toward Venice to take a look at a possible anchorage for that night. As we motored into the busy inlet, we could see the small cove we’d been eyeing for an anchorage was not going to work. It was blocked off by small orange buoys and appeared to be under construction along the coastline. Just across the way though, we saw a restaurant and marina called The Crow’s Nest, so we decided to scoot on over for a beer and some appetizers. We tied up in a temporary slip and went into the tavern, where we enjoyed some Olympics highlights, a cold beer and some snacks. Then we headed back to the boat just before sunset, and motored out into the Gulf to find a new anchorage just off the coastline.

                                                                                            Day 2 Route : Sarasota Bay to Venice

We set our anchor with plans to stay the night, but after listening to the weather broadcast and looking at the wind forecast, we decided we had better keep moving in order to reach Charlotte Harbor, a well protected bay, before the bad weather moved in Wednesday afternoon. It was around eight o’clock, not an hour after we had set it, when we pulled up the anchor and raised the sails in light winds. The night was chilly but clear, and the speckled night sky had us all in awe. We spent the first hour picking out constellations, trying to point them out to one another and repeatedly commenting on the beauty of the stars. 

After a couple of peaceful hours out on the water, I figured we had better start some rotating shifts so we wouldn’t all have to stay awake until we neared Boca Grande Pass, which we figured would take at least eight hours. I volunteered to go get some sleep first, which if you know me, is no surprise at all. 

Around three in the morning I woke up to an alarm I’d set and crawled out of the Vberth. I bundled myself up and climbed out into the cockpit. The guys were still in high spirits, chatting and laughing, while I sat there like a zombie. Since there was almost no wind, we decided we’d motor with the main up the last five or six miles to get close to shore and the Boca Grande Pass. Then we'd set an anchor and sleep for three or four hours. About ten minutes later, the motor sputtered and then stopped. We hadn’t kept a close eye on the fuel tank and it had run dry. No problem though. Adam grabbed the second fuel tank from it’s storage spot up on the bow and hooked it up to the motor. Then he pumped the fuel bubble and pulled the cord, but nothing happened. He tried over and over, but without any luck. So, we raised the genoa to join the main and tried to hold a course, close hauled, in two to four knots of wind. After about an hour, we tacked in an attempt to reach the closest shoreline with good depth to anchor. The guys were exhausted and the deck stayed quiet as the time passed and we slowly inched toward land. Finally, around six in the morning we were close enough to shore to set an anchor and climb into our berths for some sleep. Before falling asleep we made a plan to wake up at eight and set out for Boca Grande Pass so we could make it into Charlotte Harbor before the bad weather was predicted to move in that afternoon.   

                                                        Night 2 Route : Venice to Sandfly Key (5 Miles North of Boca Grande Pass)