Handbasket ... Crossing Dry Tortugas to Isla Mujeres
(Hand Basket is Winterlude's buddy boat -- same crossing, different accounts from a far more experienced skipper -- we thought you might enjoy hearing another side of the crossing! )
We sailed from Ft. Myers, Fla. to Isla Mujeres, Mexico in just under 5 days. It was a good fast passage with fine wind and little threatening weather.
The Gulf Stream was a bit of a discomfit, though. Between Florida and Mexico you have to cross it twice, once heading south toward Cuba, then again heading west between Cuba and Mexico. Winds averaged 15 knots and where almost almost always on the beam. We sailed from the Drty Tortugas all the way to Mexico on port tack. We stopped at the Dry Tortugas after leaving Ft Myers because Uncle Grant had been sea sick for the previous 18 hours. I took pity. I know, I know. I'm getting soft.
We sailed on port tack all the way from Ft Myers to within ten miles of the Dry Tortugas. I almost took pity too late. We had almost passed the island and so we had to beat those last ten miles and tack twice. Uncle Grant was thankful. We arrived at the anchorage amidst several other boats heading for Mexico.
The wind had pipped to near 20 knots from the NE, in direct opposition to the Gulfstream current.
This could create steep, uncomfortable, dangerous seas. The boat to our starboard said that this was the forecast for at least 3 more days. I wasnt happy. But if we had to wait it out, we would.
After a time, the boat to port hailed us on the radio. We chatted a bit. They were headed for the same place as we were, Isla Mujeres. Their boat looked well equipped with a lot of gear and equipment on the stern. They had heard from their weather service that it was about to lay down a touch and the next 5 days would be the best window in the near future. Hmmm.
By next morning the wind had certainly eased a bit. The flag over Fort Jefferson was showing 12 knots or so. We spoke with the port side boat, Winterlude again. They said the forecast hadn't changed.
My crew looked to me. I needed to make a command decision. I weighed all the important factors carefully. Such difficult decisions, those that may effect the safety of the crew, always weigh heavily . But in the manner of our President,"often wrong, never in doubt", I made a decision.
Winterlude had a woman aboard. What are we? Girlie Men?! If they go, we go!
An hour later we motored out of the harbor a half mile behind Winterlude. "We all went to Mexico, buenos dias, got to go". Oh, the burden of command.
The crew: I met Uncle Grant briefly when I had put my boat up in the Charlote Harbor Boat Storage. Hand Basket was tied on one side of the slip, his 27 ft Ericson on the other. He seemed to have little experience, moving slowly and a bit bewildered as he prepared to have his boat hauled out. Then quickly he would zoom off on his Harley motorcycle. A strange chap.
When I arrived at the boat yard this fall it was in a tropical downpour. I entered the boat. All was mildew and wet. I wondered if I could catch Jet Blue back to New York. How would I stay here. After a couple of hours of trying to sop up the wet, I went down to the central building that contained the heads, showers and a very nice screened in sitting area. It was still raining hard. Uncle Grant was sitting alone in the dark. We chatted briefly and when he mentioned his motorcycle, I realized it was the same fellow I met six months ago. A Packer fan from Wisconsin, he was there to escape the severe winters. After a charter vacation to the Virgin Islands, he vowed never to spend another winter in Wisconsin. Three years prior, he left for Florida on his motorcycle to buy a boat and spend his winters in the warmth of the south.
Uncle Grant has several neices and nephews in Florida and they all invited him to stay while he searched for a boat. Grant stayed. And stayed... Until finally, each relative told him, "Uncle Grant, today is the day. You can't stay here anymore." He would move on to the next relative. Grant finally found his boat. He has been sailing around southern Florida for 6 months each year while his wife runs the horse business back in Wisconsin. Grant is a show horse trainer, a good ole boy, till recently life long Republican, and one of those home spun philosophers. He can be very inciteful, at times. Grant moved to Wisconsin when in his thirties. He made his living in the show horse business. Six or seven years ago it accurred to him that the Republicans were wrong on every social issue, and he has voted Democratic in the last two Presidetial elections. I think for this reason, Grant was invited to crew on Hand Basket. And when I invited him to crew, he looked at me for several seconds then responded, "Yes". His first question was, "How long can I stay?" From then on, he was, "Uncle Grant".
Continued.....
We sailed from Ft. Myers, Fla. to Isla Mujeres, Mexico in just under 5 days. It was a good fast passage with fine wind and little threatening weather.
The Gulf Stream was a bit of a discomfit, though. Between Florida and Mexico you have to cross it twice, once heading south toward Cuba, then again heading west between Cuba and Mexico. Winds averaged 15 knots and where almost almost always on the beam. We sailed from the Drty Tortugas all the way to Mexico on port tack. We stopped at the Dry Tortugas after leaving Ft Myers because Uncle Grant had been sea sick for the previous 18 hours. I took pity. I know, I know. I'm getting soft.
We sailed on port tack all the way from Ft Myers to within ten miles of the Dry Tortugas. I almost took pity too late. We had almost passed the island and so we had to beat those last ten miles and tack twice. Uncle Grant was thankful. We arrived at the anchorage amidst several other boats heading for Mexico.
The wind had pipped to near 20 knots from the NE, in direct opposition to the Gulfstream current.
This could create steep, uncomfortable, dangerous seas. The boat to our starboard said that this was the forecast for at least 3 more days. I wasnt happy. But if we had to wait it out, we would.
After a time, the boat to port hailed us on the radio. We chatted a bit. They were headed for the same place as we were, Isla Mujeres. Their boat looked well equipped with a lot of gear and equipment on the stern. They had heard from their weather service that it was about to lay down a touch and the next 5 days would be the best window in the near future. Hmmm.
By next morning the wind had certainly eased a bit. The flag over Fort Jefferson was showing 12 knots or so. We spoke with the port side boat, Winterlude again. They said the forecast hadn't changed.
My crew looked to me. I needed to make a command decision. I weighed all the important factors carefully. Such difficult decisions, those that may effect the safety of the crew, always weigh heavily . But in the manner of our President,"often wrong, never in doubt", I made a decision.
Winterlude had a woman aboard. What are we? Girlie Men?! If they go, we go!
An hour later we motored out of the harbor a half mile behind Winterlude. "We all went to Mexico, buenos dias, got to go". Oh, the burden of command.
The crew: I met Uncle Grant briefly when I had put my boat up in the Charlote Harbor Boat Storage. Hand Basket was tied on one side of the slip, his 27 ft Ericson on the other. He seemed to have little experience, moving slowly and a bit bewildered as he prepared to have his boat hauled out. Then quickly he would zoom off on his Harley motorcycle. A strange chap.
When I arrived at the boat yard this fall it was in a tropical downpour. I entered the boat. All was mildew and wet. I wondered if I could catch Jet Blue back to New York. How would I stay here. After a couple of hours of trying to sop up the wet, I went down to the central building that contained the heads, showers and a very nice screened in sitting area. It was still raining hard. Uncle Grant was sitting alone in the dark. We chatted briefly and when he mentioned his motorcycle, I realized it was the same fellow I met six months ago. A Packer fan from Wisconsin, he was there to escape the severe winters. After a charter vacation to the Virgin Islands, he vowed never to spend another winter in Wisconsin. Three years prior, he left for Florida on his motorcycle to buy a boat and spend his winters in the warmth of the south.
Uncle Grant has several neices and nephews in Florida and they all invited him to stay while he searched for a boat. Grant stayed. And stayed... Until finally, each relative told him, "Uncle Grant, today is the day. You can't stay here anymore." He would move on to the next relative. Grant finally found his boat. He has been sailing around southern Florida for 6 months each year while his wife runs the horse business back in Wisconsin. Grant is a show horse trainer, a good ole boy, till recently life long Republican, and one of those home spun philosophers. He can be very inciteful, at times. Grant moved to Wisconsin when in his thirties. He made his living in the show horse business. Six or seven years ago it accurred to him that the Republicans were wrong on every social issue, and he has voted Democratic in the last two Presidetial elections. I think for this reason, Grant was invited to crew on Hand Basket. And when I invited him to crew, he looked at me for several seconds then responded, "Yes". His first question was, "How long can I stay?" From then on, he was, "Uncle Grant".
Continued.....