Bars, beaches and love bugs were just a few of the experiences the crew and I managed to endure on a three day trip to Anna Maria Island last week. The Anna Maria Island Chamber of Commerce says that the island ”was once a best kept secret…” but it seems like a quiet place, just a little on the touristy side. The waters surrounding A.M. are a beautiful shade of green-blue that can inspire a sailor to turn the bow southward to the keys and beyond. Maybe soon.
The crew, CannonBall, Wrecked’Em and I arrived at the boat Friday morning with all of our gear, gas, food and spirits ready for a three day adventure. Supplies were light, because this time the destination was an inhabited island with restaurants and bars. After about a half an hour of loading the boat, we got the sputtering little outboard going and were free of the marina around 9:40 a.m. As soon as Nola cleared the last channel markers the jib was hauled up and we headed for Structure C drawbridge. The wind was blowing an easy, 8-10 knots from the south east and Boca Ciega lay flat with it’s normal little ripples running across the surface. Our old jib pulled us along comfortably as the crew began to get into the spirit of sailing.
We Need Those Stinkin’ Bridges
As Nola reaches the halfway mark across the bay, the wind has stepped up to 15 knots from the south and we are making great time. The crew votes unanimously to take the intracoastal route instead of the Gulf to avoid motoring dead-on into the south wind in open water. At least this way we would avoid the bucking seas until the very last leg of crossing the Skyway channel. Our new route dictated that we would need to pass under another bascule bridge, structure E. As long as I’ve lived in Gulfport, Structure C and E were both on scheduled openings of every 20 minutes. With our little 8 hp outboard we could make it from one opening to the next in perfect time, no waiting. Apparently the higher powers have decided this is too convenient and changed Structure E to every half hour. So if you’re headed south, you pass under C, about 7 minutes later, while you’re still a long way off, the next bridge (E) opens, closes and by the time you arrive it’s a 20 minute wait for the next opening. As I ranted about the time change, CannonBall explained that a Tierra Verde resident with much more money than us must have found all the bridge openings “dreadfully inconvenient”.
While waiting for the bridge, I discovered that if I put the rudder hard over with the motor at 1/4 speed Nola would hold a tight little circle course almost indefinitely. So there we were burning up our expensive go-juice, going in circles protesting the screwed up bridge timing. Our efforts went unnoticed and we finally passed through at the next scheduled opening, no more bridges ahead of us until the other side of Tampa Bay. As we headed into the wind down the intracoastal, it was probably blowing near 17 knots and I was a little concerned that we were going to have some big waves out in shipping channel. Nola can take them, but she’s a light boat and it makes the going tough. It turns out we ran into our biggest waves less than 20 minutes later in the calm intracoastal.
Not For the Wee Ones
I’m not a people hater and genuinely enjoy meeting new people, social events, etc. Every so often I form an opinion of somebody before ever getting to know them. This was one of those moments and I summed up my opinion of this person by simply combining two words without a conjunction: Dickhead Asshole. The circumstances that created this opinion require a few more words.
The 8 horse is sputzing away, pushing us down the intracoastal to an intersection near the Dick Misener Bridge north of the Sunshine Skyway by Tarpon Key. I’m steering the boat, looking around for other boats and generally trying to be, or appear to be, a good captain. In a tone that prefaces disaster, CannonBall sternly says “Oh, shit” I whip around in the direction of the roar that just came to my attention, and see a 35′ plus power boat making full speed on a course that will take him within 35 yards of our port side. The wake that Dickhead Asshole, Mr. Asshole to us, was throwing up was at least 4 feet and there was no way to avoid it. Do these idiots have any idea how dangerous it is to pass somebody so close at that speed? I wish I’d had time to grab my camera.
As the crew let fly a barrage of middle fingers and curse words, I spun the wheel as fast I could to avoid taking the wave broadside, but the maneuver had little effect. Nola had a seizure right there in the middle of the channel. The crew was flying around, everything in the cabin was tumbling, coolers banging, drinks spilling all over the cockpit, what a wonderful gift from Mr. Asshole. And then a better one. A combination of the fast turn and the stress of the huge wave smacking the rudder causes the steering to fail. Nola was now disabled in the channel and there was another boat approaching us from the opposite direction. Nola proceeds to begin a hull speed u-turn and I still can’t get the steering to engage, the wheel turns but nothing happens. Fortunately the oncoming boat has just enough speed to get by us before the turn became a t-bone collision. I scramble back to the outboard and regain control of the boat by steering with the little godsend of a motor. Damn I hate @#$%&*# power boaters!! Control of the boat regained, the crew makes ready to anchor outside of the channel to assess the damage and see if the trip can be salvaged. Poor Wreck’Em lives up to his name with a nasty flat-on-his-ass landing on the bow as he rushes down the cabin top to ready the anchor. It actually helps to lighten the mood after the swamping – CannonBall and I call up through clenched smiles “you okay?” Bless his heart.
Though we had tested the steering under stress back at the slip, the gears from the cable had pulled away and were not meshing well with the drive sprocket. It was quickly determined that the broken spacer pieces that attacked the steering a few weeks ago were crucial to holding the cable gear tight to the drive sprocket. Our brand new plastic wash basin is the same thickness as the old spacer and sacrifices need to be made. A strip is cut from it and inserted down the gear tube, behind the gear bar. It fits and works perfectly, one of the easiest repairs at sea on a major component I’ve ever had. Steering is back online but our little blue tub took one for the team. With as many tests as possible anchored in the intracoastal, the rudder and steering hold up to our high standards (damn thing works) and we proceed on.
Even with the greasy dismantling of the pedestal, we have only been delayed for less than an hour by Dickhead and are now running parallel to the Sunshine Skyway, nearing the shipping channel. CannonBall and I comment that it was probably better the steering got knocked out in the intracoastal rather than in the middle of the shipping channel. I still hate those effing power boaters. The wind shifts to the east and drops to a comfortable 10 knots. The noon day sun reflects brightly off the water, but it is still a comfortable 78°. All hands are settled back into a semi-state of relaxation with an eye out for idiots.
Spunky Little Critters
At the north side of the Sunshine Skyway/Shipping Channel the chart suggests a 210° course to pick up the intracoastal waterway on the south side. As Nola leaves the calm intracoastal and enters the “open water” of the shipping channel the wind is still blowing a comfortable 5-10 knots from the east and the crew puts up both jib and main. The anticipated choppy waves are nowhere to be seen and the sailing is about as enjoyable as it can be. The outboard is off, as well as our shirts and shoes and the only sound is Kenny Chesney on the CD player. Another great sailing moment. The air is full of peace – and love.
Three quarters of the way across the bay, the wind dies and Nola is now down to about 2 knots. We are still making good on time and continue to coast along on sail. The crew is hanging out in the cockpit, drifting with breeze and talking about the next few days when a couple love bugs appear on Wreck’Em’s leg. A few sex jokes are made, but not long after, the boat is engulfed with slow moving, humping love bugs. The little buggers are in and on everything – all over the sails, the cabin top and thick in the air. Everyone is picturing dead love bugs in their bedroll tonight. Not to mention somebody made a comment about being “covered in love bug spunk”. Gross! Get them off the freakin’ boat! A desperate command is given to start the motor and make full speed ahead to free ourselves from the bug cloud. After about 10 minutes of hand to wing combat, the little beasts are repelled and Nola is in sight of Anna Maria. CannonBall is still dusting off a few bug carcasses when Nola reaches the southern entrance to the intracoastal waterway. We made it.
Stay tuned for Part 2: Palma Sola and The Galati Empire
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
RumHead – wow, your story is so well written I feel like I’m there on the boat with you! Hope it won’t be too long til Dave and I can be out with you guys again!
Looking forward to part two!
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Caroline – too much rum?