Reaching the goal (part two)

To read Part One click here

As I only read in sailing narrative before, I brought the jib all the way down into the main cabin to fix it. I pulled out the emergency repair kit and the Sailmaker’s Apprentice book that I put aside after reading few paragraphs. Instead I cut a couple of patches of dacron I carried for repairs and started to improvise a hand stitch.

It was a slow operation that took all my poor sewing skills. For two hours Tranquility continued diligently on course all the way to Cabo San Antonio. Beta, entertained by the novel configuration of the cabin, hung out on the jib spread out on the bed.

Eventually I concocted an ugly repair that made me feel like a hero. Unfortunately the worst had yet to begin.

It turned to be impossible to hoist the jib onto the furler alone, in the dark and with fifteen knots on the nose. I tried a couple of tacks, to see if I could get a little more shelter from the mainland. I tried again and again.

I managed to pull the sail two thirds of the way up after many attempts, cursing aloud and pulling hard on the halyard while feeding the bolt rope through the groove of the furler. Nothing more.

Exhausted I decided to wait for the daylight and milder conditions. I put Tranquility again on a NNE Course with only the staysail and the mainsail to propel us, drifting a little away from my intended course.

The following day I gathered my energy, oriented the boat downwind and eased the mainsail all the way out to shade the foredeck. With daylight and more clement seas the operation was a success. I enjoyed the fruit of my hard work for a little while before going back to my napping routine.

During the trip my sleep cycle varied depending on how safe my mind would feel. I can usually judge in advance where marine traffic concentrate: straits, approaches to busy ports, capes and other obstructions.

Sailing way offshore scares most people but it is in fact the safer option for a singlehanded sailor. While offshore the risk of hitting an object while sailing is minimum but it cannot be reduced to zero. It is something I learned to accept or I will be terrorized to go anywhere.

It is closer to land where I get the least sleep, a maximum of 20 minutes intervals between trips on deck to check for potential danger. A minutes or two is sufficient to scan the horizon and check the chartplotter.

The journey continued with a steady beating against NE winds. I was focused on gaining miles to the North before the wind would shift allowing me to sail East. Another cold front was forecasted to reach me while approaching the Florida Keys, and I could use that to get East again.

Kate on the shore team arranged a stop on Stock Island, right beside Key West. I was trying not stop if possible, but the northerlies were forecasted to blow for three days more before a shift to the E and the S.

With some time to kill it would be a perfect opportunity to clear in the country, and possibly have a sailmaker check on my homemade repair. And of course to enjoy a night of rest while docked and a meat based meal in a restaurant. Stopping appeared to be the right choice.

Tranquility approached Stock Island on a close reach, while the cold front was blowing from the NNW. I let the wind take me to the front of the channel before packing the headsails and leave the electric motor and mainsail complete the approach to the basin.

Kate’s formidable skills as a researcher helped in finding just the right spot for the job, 3D Boatyard. Tranquility ended tied up to a sea wall alongside an unoccupied powerboat after a three point turn aided by line handlers. In order to get ashore I had to climb onto the neighboring vessel and jump a good three feet from its stern onto the concrete bulkhead.

As I stepped from a rocking boat to the solid ground of the dusty boatyard I immediately felt the mighty presence of Florida Men around me. Harleys and street bikes and giant trucks and beards and sunglasses provided the Southern Florida flavor. It was good to be back.

The inexpensive and busy boatyard allowed me get enough internet to video call the Custom and Border Protection Officer. I downloaded the CBP official app for my Android phone in Panama and I was ready for the operation. To my surprise the officer waived me in without further need for inspections after I showed my green card to the phone camera and answered few questions.

With that resolved I quickly walked a few hundred yards to see if the sailmaker was available to fix my ugly hand stitch. Interrupting his nap was a clear signal of availability and he accepted to pick up my sail and delivered it fixed at the end of the day. The only thing left to do was to grab a substantial lunch at the nearby Cuban restaurant. After 12 days at sea on a mostly vegetarian diet I selected the beef stew special from the menu and enjoyed my gigantic meal.

I was eager to make progress to the East while it was still blowing from the North so the very next day I was already underway . I was hoping to get past the Keys and snug the Gulf Stream in time with a wind switch to the SE and S to get a slingshot effect up the East Coast.

Out of Stock Island the gusty cold front was still active, but the protection from land made for some exciting close hauled sailing in flat waters. I sailed till the night came, and I was determined to keep moving.

The constant presence of crab traps, buoys and markers and a marine traffic altough made me realize that I would not spend a very restful night. It was getting a little cold too, as the National Weather Service on the VHF informed that the temperature will drop to the lower 50s.

I opted to spend the night at anchor without risking collisions or sleep deprivation. After finding a suitable point on the chart I approached the anchorage under sail, with a little help from the electric drive. Few feet from where I was heading to drop the hook the propeller came to a sudden stop,

The line of one of the crab traps had fouled the prop and I hurried to quickly deploy the anchor. The 22lbs Bruce anchor set as usual bringing the boat to a stop. I played a bit with the throttle but the prop would not turn. It was too dark to dive and deal with it. I decided to prepare a meal and to sleep till daylight.

After a comfortable night snug in my sleeping bag I went out to felt the morning air in the cockpit. It was chilly and still breezy. I reluctantly undressed, donned my mask and snorkel and brought a knife with me. The water was warmer than the air and I quickly freed the propeller from the line, without the need for cutting it. It took few minutes to recover from the chilly swim and got underway.

I spent the following day and night tacking my way East close to shore. At night I slept very little because of heavy traffic and the need to tack every half hour or so. Slowly clearing Key Largo Tranquility finally got a good position inside the Gulf Stream, right when the winds started to help.

In this area of the Gulf Stream current can attain speeds of 3.5 / 4 knots. When the wind blows strongly from the North the Gulf Stream becomes a hell made of steep waves climbing one on top of the other. I had the luck to get wind and current in favor and so Tranquility started to travel fast northbound.

It was exciting. With 20 knots on my back, Miami first, then all the other landmarks on the coast passed by quickly. I recorded a progress of a 145nm on day 14 and the next day an incredible 201nm. It felt like a sort of reward after many days of slow and laborious progress upwind.

In front of Cape Canaveral at night I had to be vigilant and consult the AIS receiver quite a bit. I counted 5 cruise ships going in and out of the inlet.

The night of my 16th day at sea, I came to an abrupt stop in front of St.Augustine. A band of thunderstorms from the West chased out the Southerlies and brought confused winds, sudden gusts and periods of calm. I had to reduce sail, let the squalls pass an then let more sail out again. Then the wind will drop to almost nothing.

One of those thunderstorms hit while I was napping down below. The boat jerked and started running pushed by the sudden strong winds. I was quickly in the cockpit to bring in the jib. I could not furl it, it was once again jammed.

As a final desperate measure I put the furling lie on the winch and applied the extra mechanical force. I felt the halyard snap at the top of the mast and the sail furling in quickly. The problem was fixed, but once again I was left without my main headsail. If I tried to open the jib it would just fall on the deck as no halyard would keep it hoisted.

At day break I put as much sail area out as I could, including my reaching Gennaker. It was still possible to fix the halyard situation if I could send up another line to the sheave. I had a mouse line running through the mast and a suitable line to use.

Once the line was all the way in I noticed it was just few feet too short. I had used part of the same line to make the mainsheet of my sailing dinghy, so if I connected the two parts I could have a brand new halyard and use the jib again.

The Ditty Bag Book had a good illustration on how to join temporarily two ropes through a double whip. With needle and thread I attached the two ends of line. For the third time in this trip the jib was down on the foredeck. This time it was quickly up again after the new halyard was attached to the swivel. By then I knew how to run the operation alone and smoothly.

Day 16 was the slowest of the trip but nonetheless we were getting there . The tide tables gave 9 am as the beginning of the incoming tide in St.Simons Inlet so I felt right on time on my approach. The last thing I expected was to feel the effect of the outgoing tide 15 miles from the entrance of the Sound.

The boat was pushed toward Fernandina Beach and with light wind there was little I could do but try to motorsail until the change of the tide. Progress was slow and the generator that I hooked up to the battery charger to support my electric motor started to act wildly, despite my pre-departure maintenance.

The battery charge was getting lower and lower and still the destination was out of reach. I started to worry that we could not make it before the tide will turn again against us. I started to contemplate calling a tow, even if the simple thought made me feel a bit ashamed. I was curious about their rates and wondering how much money I was willing to trade to end the trip.

The answer came from a council of guardian angels on the Delorme. They called the Tow services asking for an estimate. 900-1200 dollars was the answer, a steep enough price to make me go all the way and devise an alternative plan. If I could not clear the inlet before the turn of the tide I would anchor by one shoal and rest. Waiting for the next tide change.

Then I gave up motor sailing and started to fully tack. At the same time the wind started to increase. It was coming right from the inlet, straight on the nose. I kept tacking, the wind kept blowing stronger.

The channel that leads to St. Simons Sound is wide enough to allow big ships in an out, but it shoals right off the markers. Thanks to Tranquility’s shallow draft and the raising tide, I had a little extra room for my tacks. Still it was hard work as I would tack every four to ten minutes.

I had full sails ups. In a regular situation I would have reefed the mainsail. This time I could not leave the tiller while tacking s hand between shoals. I could only dunk the bulwarks and all the leeward deck in the waves, while everything inside the boat fell and crashed at every tack. I was racing high tide at 3 pm to get to the anchorage.

At a certain moment, on a port tack, I had the certainty that I was going to make it. I knew the inlet and St.Simons Sound very well . I was close and the energetic sailing was paying off.

The entrance to Frederica river was waiting for me, and of course I would sail all the way to the anchorage. It only got easier as I was finally pointing N to the end of my journey.

The boat enter Frederica river on the last tack, still heeled under the pressure of the wind. I was confident that anchoring under sail in the familiar anchorage would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

At that realization, relieved from the tension of the arrival, tears started falling on my cheeks. Tears of joy, tears of completion. All the fears, all the excitement and expectations became a liquid film that filled my eyes and dripped on my face. The familiar landscape moved me, like a long forgotten song, attached to a strong memory.

The long day spent at the tiller, exposed to the sun and the wind without eating, had not crushed me even after 17 days spent at sea since Puerto Lindo. I felt energized and alert.

Once the hook sunk in the soft Georgia mud, I took extra time to carefully flake the mainsail, put on the sail cover, organize the lines at the mast, and clear the deck, savoring the afternoon turning into sunset. I cooked a big pot of pasta, gave a extra can of food to Beta, and opened a bottle of white wine that my friends Simonetta and Piero gave me in Panama to celebrate my arrival.

My journey had ended, where it started long ago. The famed marshes of Glynn took us in their protective embrace without asking questions. I was glad because I had no answers for them.