The past few weeks have been spent preparing Jo Beth and ourselves for our departure from America’s Out Islands, otherwise known as the Florida Keys. An engine service, inspection of the mast and rigging, repairs to damaged varnish and the laying on of fresh varnish, and the replacement and updating of other gear and spares have kept us moving. A leaking lid on the forward water tank was repaired and the foredeck sun awning was modified to be more useable in rainy weather. It’s been a busy February and March.
The Florida Keys were starting to feel like our second home…
We arrived in Marathon in 2018, late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. The plan had been to enter Boot Key Harbor and find a spot to anchor and spend a quiet Christmas, and later on, move to a mooring. However, we stopped at the Marathon Marina fuel dock to top off our fuel and water tanks and wound up taking a berth for two nights. On the morning after Christmas, we moved into the harbor anchorage area to wait for a mooring ball assignment from the harbormaster’s office. We would stay in Boot Key Harbor until May of 2019.
As Lisa and I were both working, and thus heavily dependent on Wi-Fi, life on a mooring was difficult. Particularly so, as Lisa had clients in Europe and was engaged in video conferencing before COVID forced the business world into Zoom life. My work involved uploading large photography and video files for clients. Hot spotting through our phones just wasn’t working, and while the City Marina and Boot Key Harbor offered excellent Wi-Fi in the harbor community room, it was only available from 8-5 daily. We hadn’t planned on staying in the Keys through another hurricane season, as there were reminders of Irma all around us, but we were both busy with work and decided taking the time off to move north would put too much of a dent in the income. So, we stayed in 2019, and planned to depart in the spring of 2020.
Days of COVID-19, Keys Style…
We all know what happened in the spring of 2020…
Fortunately, we were able to secure a slip in Marathon Marina, and it has become our home for our home throughout the mish-mash that was 2020. In truth, we could not have been in a better place for a pandemic, shutdowns, and all that was 2020. For us, 2020 was a time for re-evaluation of plans, making decisions, and drawing lines in the sand. Accordingly, I have ‘retired’ as of the start of 2021, shifting more from my marine surveying work to consulting, photography, videography, and writing. Lisa is still working, but trying to limit her time to 20 hours per week. We are, more or less, debt free. The time has come to start sailing.
As the dozens of tasks necessary to ready the boat for sea are completed, we’ve turned our attention to the weather forecasts. As sailors, weather rules us. We watch for ‘weather windows;’ those gaps between frontal systems in which winds are more favorable for passage making and the weather overall is more settled. In our case, we want to make the first leg of our sail north from the Keys to Brunswick/St. Simons Island, Georgia, in between the cold fronts which traverse the southeastern US every ten days or so, between November and April. If we play our cards right, or at least reasonably well, we should have a pleasant, mostly downwind sail from the Keys to St. Simons. The truth is, we don’t know until we go. Conditions were looking good for a departure from Marathon this past Sunday. As ocean passages go, it’s not far – approximately 500 miles – and should take around 4 days or so to complete. However, once we got out close to the barrier coral reef, we found there was simply too much East in the wind, and that our course would put us on a direct head to wind path for approximately 18 hours.
No thanks. Sailing close hauled, or at a slight angle off the wind is certainly exhilarating – salt spray flies, the boat heels, and water rushes along the side decks at seemingly breakneck speeds. It certainly makes for exciting pictures and videos for sailing magazines and YouTube posts. In reality, ‘beating to windward,’ ‘sailing to weather,’ whatever you call it, is extremely hard on the boat and her crew. Most sailors avoid slogs to windward whenever possible – and we did the same. We turned the boat around and headed back to the western end of Boot Key to anchor and wait. A departure on Monday still had us in good weather all the way to Georgia.
Going the opposite direction, we had a lovely broad-reach sail back over the reef and into Hawk Channel. As we were approaching the anchorage area, I began the process of bringing down the sails and Lisa started the engine. She soon yelled to me, “the battery light is staying on.” I went back to the cockpit to look. The engine was running, and sure enough, the battery light was glowing red. I stuck my head into the cabin to check the voltage meter at the electrical panel. It was showing 14.3 volts, a typical level of charge for having just started the engine. I looked at the panel again, and the light was off.
Once the anchor was set, we checked again. The engine started and ran normally, but the battery light stayed on. A quick glance at the electrical panel meter and the battery monitor display showed the alternator was hammering the batteries with well over 14 volts, which should have quickly eased to 13.3 or less after a few moments as the batteries were fully topped up from the solar panels. But, it didn’t. We stopped the engine.
That night over dinner, Lisa and I discussed the issue. We decided to head back into Marathon to get the problem checked. Ignoring it was not an option; at a minimum, it could damage and even destroy several thousand dollars’ worth of batteries. At the worst, it could cause a fire and we could lose everything. The next morning, we called Marathon Boat yard, but they were full and couldn’t accommodate us. Marathon Marina had not yet filled our old slip, so back we went. It took a few hours to trace; with the help of a professional marine electrician the problem was found: the connection of the alternator temperature sensor wire to the alternator regulator was bad. After what was literally a 30 second fix, the problem looks to be solved.
Unfortunately, we have officially missed our weather window. A cold front is approaching, and we’ll have strong northerly and easterly winds for the next week or so. We had enough of a window to make it north to Miami, or perhaps Palm Beach, before the expected northerly winds would press against us once again. Since we were here, and in a familiar spot, we decided to wait. When the south winds fill in once again, we’ll make another go of it.
Once we arrive in Georgia, there’s plenty to do. We’ll spend a few weeks catching up on COVID delayed doctor and dental check-ups, sorting out some personal business matters, and swapping our clothes from what’s good for a tropical climate to what’s needed for more temperate conditions. We’ll visit with friends and family, and begin preparing for the next leg of our cruise along the eastern coast, from Georgia to New England.
Without a doubt, we will miss the Keys…
Leaving these islands and our friends is bittersweet, for sure. But it is time. We’re not getting any younger. Lisa and I have a running joke between us, that we’ll never leave the slip. She says that for me, the boat will never be ‘perfect enough,’ or ‘fixed enough, so that nothing breaks.’ I say that for her, ‘we’ll never be rich enough to break away, and we just might run out of money.’ The past year, and all of its losses and heartaches has taught us two simple things: what will break is us, and what we’ll run out of is time.
It’s time to make way…when the weather permits.