My Most Recent ICW Experience
More and more lessons to be learned – dinghy towing can be hazardous
A passage from passage from Marathon FL to Fort Pierce
December 2009
I first became aware of Saffanah surfing E Bay and I first saw Saffanah at anchor in Boot Harbor in Marathon FL. She is a 32 Downeast cutter built in the seventies in Costa Mesa CA, and definitely showed her age – weathered and crazed hull, sad canvas, lousy sails, no electronics, a busted motor and grungy water line. But stepping aboard I immediately had the feeling she was a match for the West Sail 32 I had regretfully sold ten years ago. And so once more I re-demonstrated the very first watery lesson learned (or very obviously never learned) – a fool and his money soon part.
A year later after having her hauled and stored at the Marathon Keys Marina and Boat Yard, and a few thousand dollars later, she was functionally ready to begin her trip to Jacksonville FL where I plan to address the cosmetic issues she so sorely needs.
So on the Day after Thanksgiving 2006 we motored out of Marathon circled the point and entered Hawk Channel.
We had planned to leave the Tuesday before Thanksgiving but a cold front blew through the Keys and even the task of provisioning for the trip was difficult with the wind and rain coming down in torrents. I had never actually sailed Saffanah but knew in my heart she would handle as well as my West Sail. But I did have a concern that the old Perkins, although very thoroughly reworked by the great diesel, David Brown, would be reliable. David had cleaned the fuel tanks, replaced all hoses, rebuilt the water pump and alternator, and replaced the cutlass bearing.
I over the year’s period of time I had added new sails, new running rigging, new anchor gear, a new inverter charger, and a new Garmin 3210 with sounder. So functionally Saffanah was well prepared. But Tuesday and Wednesday and a large part of Thanksgiving day was consumed completing a punch list ranging from making certain we had running lights and an operable head, to checking out the refrigeration and installing the Garmin. On Tuesday night a severe thunderstorm hit Boot Key Harbor, with a reported waterspout and 112 mph winds that damaged a number of boats at anchor and made sleeping a little difficult on Saffanah. The storm passed but for the next five days winds were be from the north at 15 – 25 knots and gusts up to 34 knots. Hawk channel and traversing the Florida Bay ICW both looked a little unattractive. But at the end of the day, my crew reluctantly agreed that at least starting out in Hawk channel would put us on the lee of the keys and we would take the least amount of pounding on our trip northward to Jacksonville.
In all of my years I never had a real dinghy of my own, and as a result never had to contend with stowing a dinghy on deck, towing on a tether, or using davits. Since Saffanah now has an Aries wind vane attached to her stern, and I had no money or time for davits, we did not use davits. Were I to single hand, the dinghy would be stowed, My dinghy perspective is dinghies are a cost savings device, allowing one to freely anchor and yet conveniently reach shore.
Although I preferred to deflate the new dinghy, my crew, my brother-in-law adamantly stated that if we go off shore (Hawk Channel is not really off shore in my mind) we must have the dinghy ready to transport us to safety should Saffanah decide to unexpectedly sink – so the dinghy (aptly named Pee Wee) tagged along hanging on with a make shift tether constructed with a couple of floats and a old Genoa sheets. The goal was to avoid, at all costs, catching the dinghy tether in the prop.
Drawing upon all of my lessons learned over the past thirty years, I do understand this fool and his money do continue to part. But this time Saffanah and her repairs and up grades were completed far below market value. In terms of crew compatibility, however, I forgot to read that lesson chapter in my lessons learned book. My brother-in-law is an experience power boater and a pilot of sorts, but has never set foot on a sailboat. He and I share different perspectives of watery traveling and so our passage was a mutual test of diplomacy regardless of the situation presented or the fundamental being addressed.
Friday morning we left the fuel dock and I decided that if I made Snake Creek by that evening, we could decide either to continue off shore sailing over night to reach Biscayne Bay in the morning or cut across Snake Creek and move up the ICW. The decision would be made by the weather. If wind was more northeasterly and we could sail close hauled we would continue with an overnight sail. And if the wind came more from the north and continued at 20 knots, we would cut over to the ICW. Snake Creek is about fourth miles northeast of Marathon – so roughly 8 hours of motor sailing would get us there just before dusk.
So off we went, Pee Wee happily following perfectly on our bow wave, just like the “Annapolis Book or Seamanship” suggests. The Garman was working impressively, and both the new Garmin sounder as well as the old Standard Horizon sounder seemed to synchronize. The engine purred (thank you David) and Saffanah took to the three to five foot seas just like I expected her to do. We were enough off the wind that I raised the staysail in the twenty knot breeze but only after a very strenuous exercise as my crew kept falling off the wind and heading into the lumpy sea. But ultimately I was able to get the staysail up, come into the wind and get both a little power and a little stability out of it,
We watched the Garmin, now named Einstein, as Saffanah held steady at five to five and half knots, a good rate for a little 32 foot, 19,000 pound full keel off-shore boat pounding into a head wind and heavy seas. About three hours into our run our speed suddenly dropped to 2 knots. The engine was doing its job, the staysail was full and my heart skipped a few beats. Had we not tightened the prop nut? Oh brother – at least I have towing insurance. Then my brother-in-law looked back at Pee Wee and shouted “Pee Wee has snagged a crab trap!” Sure enough, there about twenty feet behind Pee Wee floated a crab trap and the traps buoy very clearly had become entangled in my perfectly fabricated vee shaped tether with the floats attached.
Thankfully, the skies were clear, the temperature of the air and water were both close to eighty degrees and at 68 in shape enough to jump into Pee Wee, fight with the snagged crab trap float and free both the trap and Pee Wee after struggling for an hour or so. But in the haste to free Pee Wee Saffanah turned to the South and the staysail did its job of retracing our previous path. So we ended up losing two hours or better. By the way I did not open the trap to see if there was a crab that we could later enjoy.
As my brother-in-law pointed out the rest of the day, the season for crabs is November to April in the keys and boaters should be aware of snagging crab traps. Sometimes “me thinks the water way guide sometimes passes out a little too much information”. So the rest of the day we switched roles as helmsman and crab trap spotter, a taxing activity in three to five foot seas.
Pee Wee’s adventure cost us some time to say the least so in addition to sweating crab traps I began to develop my anxiety of reaching Snake Creek before dusk. I knew that sailing at night up Hawk Channel with crab traps galore was not going to work and the winds were not going to die down for another few days. Thus ICW become our route for the next day, and putting a marina or anchoring in for the night was a logical decision.
Also at about five o’clock in the evening Saffanah’s engine seemed to have a very slight seizure, taking a very uncomfortable deep breath before recovering and returning to her normal reassuring hum. She did that about thirty minutes later and once again as we headed into port. So my confidence was a little on the shaky side as we headed up the channel and I immediately began the search for marinas.
Unfortunately my search quickly reveled a problem, and one I should have recognized long before ever leaving port. The problem was that the ocean side marinas in the keys struggled to handle drafts of four feet, and Saffanah drew four foot nine inches. So as dusk approached and I called various marinas south of Snake Creek, each resisted accommodating us since we would enter their channels at low tide. As the sun set and darkness took over, we radioed Paradise Isle Resort, and thankfully they could accommodate us as long as we stayed in their channel. So with the help of Einstein and my brother-in-law waving a hand flash light, we anxiously but without incident entered Paradise Isle at about 8 PM.
The next morning, we motored out the Paradise Island channel, and about a mile later we crossed over at Snake Creek and to my brother-in-laws disgruntlement headed up the ICW to Biscayne Bay. The same route I had covered in a power boat about 10 years ago. I like this route because there are long stretches of open water but the mangroves add a great deal of character. The wind had dropped to 10 knots or less because we remained in the lee of most of the mangroves and Einstein advised us of every bend in the road and every marker along the way.
In the afternoon we entered Biscayne Bay and about four PM we began to see the skyline of Miami. I had forgotten just how wide Biscayne Bay is, and so as we assessed our position, we scrapped our decision to head into a marina on the west side of the bay and decided that because Einstein had done such a great job the night before, we would carry on and stop over at the Coral Gables City Marina. But we would arrive after seven, and on that day sunset was 5:36 PM. As we had done the night before, we would have to spot markers with a light and rely fully on Einstein – not the smartest thing to do in a strange port.
As we near Miami in the dusk Saffanah’s engine took another hair raising deep breath, and recovered only to do so a few minutes later. But this time I took a stab analyzing the problem. Saffanah had been constructed with two fuel tanks, a sixty gallon tank directly beneath the galley sole and a 17 gallon tank in the cockpit locker. David, a great mechanic in Marathon, had installed a three way valve in Saffanah’s fuel line that would allow us to switch between tanks. He was concerned about the larger tank initially, and so we had been drawing from the smaller tank rather than the larger one. So when engine took yet a third deep breath, I rotated the valve and whoopee no more engine seizures. Thank goodness because by this time it was getting pretty dark.
With the engine once again purring smoothly, and with only a little anxiety we slowly motored in to the marina, and quietly tied up at our previously reserved slip, the Coral Gables skyline well lit in the background. Pretty, pretty place! Nice marina, loud band at the local tike bar.
Next day the weather forecast was great – a large high pressure area had become stationary over south Florida and winds would be steady out of the north at 15 mph. Not so great for heading out of Governors Channel but perfect to go up the bridge laden ICW – so once again against the wishes of my crew, we headed up the ICW, watch in hand, hoping for the hour and the half our or the quarter past and quarter till. There are a lot of bridges! I mean a lot of bridges! While my brother-in-law was a trooper, he did repeatedly remind me as we waited for every bridge to open the time lost had we not gone off shore.
Light house Point was once again a night entrance after seven in the evening and after clearing umpteen bridges. But the bridge angst was well off set with a dinner at a local island speakeasy only accessible by boat. The next day after tightening an alternator belt, freeing a seized fitting on the pump out and filling the galley tank, we headed out for the next twenty or so bridges, arriving in Palm Beach about four thirty.
The day started out ok, but at the North Palm Beach – Parker Bridge, we just missed the opening and had to circle for a half hour. Just as the bridge opened for us, Pee Wee’s tether decided that it had enough of avoiding the prop and bang just as we started to enter the bridge, we had no power. We were about 200 yards on the south side in six feet of water. So the anchor went over, I stripped down to bare bones, and the next hour was spent cutting loose the half inch halyard that I had used to manufacture the tether. Thankfully, I had previously purchased a prescription diving mask, since in my old age everything is just a blur without my glasses, and in the murky water I could clearly see the tangle and use a knife to once again free Pee Wee. Needless to say, Pee Wee is now deflated and stowed on the foredeck of Saffanah regardless of my brother-in-laws admonitions.
Clearing the bridge an hour later, we decided that an early evening was in store and I began to obsess over the potential of a 30 minute hot shower
In all my years of traveling the ICW, I have rarely been disappointed in a marina. In the early years, some were not appointed very well, but, if so, the service and the welcome more than offset the lack of amenity or aesthetics. But in Palm Beach, the marinas must definitely accommodate Wall Street millionaires and certainly behave with an equivalent level of arrogance. After being advised that most marinas would not accommodate anything fewer than fifty feet, the Palm Harbor Marina, MM1023, welcomed us with open arms. Great ad in the water way guide, showers, fuel, restaurant. As we pulled in we noticed few boats at what appeared to be brand new floating docks. The dock master greeted us and as we tied up apologized that he had to charge for a fifty foot slip and by the way the restrooms and showers had not yet been constructed, the restaurant had not been constructed, and there was no fuel. And if we wanted power we would have to rent his 50 to 30 amp splitter for fifty bucks.
It was late, and I did not want to go on another 15 miles so we stayed, the harbor master did cut me a $10 dollar break on the slip and finally rented the splitter for only $10 additional. However, I do have some advice to the owner of the marina, who by the way lives on 125 footer in the unfinished marina. You can clip a man’s hair all of his life but you can scalp him only once. Even if I do hit the lottery and my next boat costs 20 million bucks it will be a cold day in you know where before I ever put in to the Palm Harbor Marina at MM1023 again!
On Tuesday we made it to Nettles Island just before the forecast thirty to forty knot southerly wind began to blow with all of its might. Tied up broad side to a fixed dock, the night was likely one of the most unpleasant nights I have ever spent on a boat. The boat tossed and turned, the waves slapped the beam of the boat with astounding bangs and we spent every hour or so adjusting the lines and fenders.
My brother-in-law had to return to Atlanta the next day and Fort Pierce seemed a likely stopping point that would allow me to return to our business for a few days, and then set off for Jacksonville after Christmas.
So at 6 AM we designed a clever little spring line and in spite of the 30 knot breeze holding us against the dock, we pulled off just like a power boat pro would do it. With that feisty breeze now at our backs the ride up the Indian River past the Ft. Pierce Inlet took only a couple hours, and today Saffanah is safely snuggled into a slip in Harbor town Marina.
Next week I will change fuel filters and do few little things to make ready to head to head up right after the Christmas Holiday.
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