A Foggy Gulf Crossing

I have a fondness for tee shirts with maps so I had to get this one from the Moorings at Carrabelle as part of "crossing preparation". All the indicators said that Sunday to Monday would be the weather window, but we woke up to a blanket of fog on Sunday. The weather window was short, however, and since most of the journey would be at night anyway, Shingebiss and 5 other boats left at noon. We all left together, slowly and with radar on. In this photo, Dog Island is ahead of us, to the left, and after that it's the wide open Gulf of Mexico. Once we cleared the last marker, we split off a little from the group to follow the route Buddy had recommended, but remained within VHF radio range with them.

The fog persisted and the seas were more rough than either Steve or I expected. As it began to get dark, the Captain made a decision: "We gotta go downstairs, it's too rough". Needless to say, the First Mate agreed fully. We managed to get all our stuff downstairs and the flybridge covered, but were crawling around on our knees to do it. About this time, I started to get mildly seasick and lying on our precious maroon leather loveseat seemed to be the only cure. Darkness came and it was pitch black with only the instruments to guide us. We figured out a more comfortable and secure way to sit on the captains chair by using one of the wicker chairs for a foot stool, and then holding on with at least one hand to prevent toppling over. Walking three feet from the love seat to the table required holding on to something. We took turns standing watch. Look at the laptop, look at the chart plotter, look at the autopilot setting, look out the windows for any lights. Check the radar frequently and the gauges periodically, while the other person slept on the loveseat. I slept every chance I got, but Steve couldn't relax enough to sleep, so he ended up with many more hours at the helm than me. Around midnight it seemed like the seas were calming a bit, by three am calming more so we broke out the Hershey Nuggets with almonds. We eagerly anticipated daybreak and the ability to again see our surroundings, but when it finally came, the fog was still there. The seas were remarkably calm by the time it got light. We still had several hours left to travel, and were much relieved at the difference it made.

The fog began to lift just in time to spot the numerous crab pots that are found in the area. They are painted a different color to identify who owns them. The yellow and red one's are easy to see, but the white and blue, not so much, at least for me. Steve sees everything way before I do, doesn't get seasick and has the patience of a saint for figuring this stuff out, so thank goodness he's the Captain, eh?

And thank goodness for the electronic charts and GPS which guided us right to this "green 1" marker which indicated time to turn left and head into the channel to Tarpon Springs.

As we entered the channel the sun broke out. We dropped the anchor behind the barrier island Dutchman Key at 10 am and spent the rest of the day napping and catching up on e-mail. We've been in shorts and tee shirts (at last) all day and Steve is sitting on the back deck at 9 pm enjoying the warm evening air. Lucy has recovered too and has been out on the front deck.

Not the best sunset ever, but a memorable and significant one for us, as we sat on the top deck and watched it while talking about the high (and low) points of our gulf crossing experience, one we won't soon forget. We've always heard that the boat can take alot more than the crew, and now we know it's true. Shingebiss performed like a seasoned veteran.

We had a celebratory dinner...Macaroni Grill boxed dinners, just add chicken...highly recommend...with salad.

We'll both sleep well tonight and plan a very short cruise into Tarpon Springs tomorrow to see the sights.