Tehani and me. Laura's tale of her single hand cruise

[CharlieJ]

Here's day 9 of Laura's cruise-

A spattering of rain collects around the inside of the coaming on the forward hatch and two tiny streams of water flow from bronze screws along the starboard cabin side. I watched the storm advance until it was nearly on top of us then ducked inside and slipped the hatch boards in place. I draw a circle around the leaking screws with a pencil so I will remember to fix them later then glance up at the hatch with resentment. I have not been able to find a gasket for it and my bed is getting wet. Outside it is pouring and I think of the fishermen in their open boats. They must be soaked.

I am two hours later pulling the anchor than I had wanted but I should still have enough daylight to get to my anchorage thirty miles away. I plan to follow the ICW along the coast then anchor in the lee of San Jose Island on the eastern side of Aransas Bay. The anchor is directly below me but no matter how hard I try I cannot pull it out of the bottom. I cleat it off at the bow then motor over it letting Tehani's weight pull it free. Breaking waves expose the hidden shoals at the end of the cove this morning. They extend for a quarter of a mile after the land disappears into the bay. I give them a wide berth then set sail for the ICW.

It is a close reach along the ICW and I have just been able to hold the windward side of the channel. Towboats and weekend traffic forced me to start the motor near Aransas Pass but it is quiet again as I reach City by the Sea where Redfish Bay opens to the east letting the wind blow uninterrupted. With the sails full and drawing I quietly go aground. It takes me a moment to realize we are not moving. I let the sheets loose and try to back off with the motor. When that doesn't work I sheet in the sails and heel the boat over in an attempt to sail off but the wind is too far forward and all I do is put us further aground.

I finally resigned myself to kedging off and it wouldn't have been so bad if I had rowed the dinghy more often in the past. It took me three tries to get the anchor into deeper water, the second of which I spent laughing so hard at my feeble attempts to get my left hand to cooperate with my right that all I could do was watch the anchor chain slide over the end of the dinghy into what I imagined was one big lump in the murky bottom. After that I got serious. I put the anchor back in the dinghy and loaded all seventy-five feet of my chain in the stern. I closed my eyes, remembered the way it really feels to row and finally got the anchor well into deeper water. I led a line from the chain back to the sheet winch and cranked. I cranked some more. I rested in the shade of the bimini and sipped on cold water. Then I braced myself with my foot against the cockpit coaming and cranked some more. It was then that I heard a man's voice ask if I was anchored or aground. He was in a cherry red fishing boat with a center console. I told him I was aground. He asked if I would like him to pull us off. I said I sure would. As we came free from the ground I held up my arms in victory and yelled with a big grin on my face that he was a dream. I probably embarrassed him.

I am under way again but I am beginning to worry. I am four and a half hours later than planned and daylight is dwindling. The full strength of the wind blows in my face as the ICW makes its turn to the east and the calm water turns rough. The east wind has fetched four-foot waves and stacked them up where we enter Aransas Bay. I think it may calm a little as we get further into the bay but the motor continues to scream as we rise on each wave and every other one brings us almost to a halt. I can't take these waves head on. I reach below and grab the chart to see if there are shoals to port. The wind crumples it in my hand and all I can do is hold it to the cockpit floor under my foot to get a look.

I steer off to port while my mind races. I am on a lee shore. I cannot motor into the wind. I can't do much better off the wind. I can put up sail. I cannot sail past the ICW to starboard here because there are shoals. I cannot cross the ICW where it runs north because there are spoils on this side of it. If I sail I will have to tack out and cross the ICW right at the point that it makes its turn north. That is three miles away and it will take me more than an hour to get there. If it is not dark by then it will be soon after and the sky is cloudy. When it gets dark it will be pitch dark. There is a piercing alarm going off and I think I have overheated the outboard.

What is this fear I feel in my gut? I am not afraid dying. I think I am afraid of failing. To fail would be to decide to go forward in this mess, make a mistake and wind up in real trouble. I am too tired to do this. I think back to the protected waterway. Was there someplace I could anchor? I look to the west and notice the tiller pilot flashing on the cockpit seat. I forgot to put it on standby when I released it from the tiller and it is squealing at me. The outboard is fine.

I tied up in front of a boatyard that was closed for the evening then I called Charlie. I told him I had a long day and I thought he should drive down and take me out to dinner. It will take me two days to get home from here but it is only an hour's drive by car. It is remarkable that I can be on a journey so close to home and yet be so far away.

[AdriftAtSea]

Laura-

Great post. It is ironic that you can be only an hour's drive away, but two days by boat.  Of course, Charlie can do 65 mph on the highways... and Tehani probably only makes 4-5 knots, and not in as direct a route as the roads probably are.   I wish you fair winds for the rest of your journey. 

[Zen]

"but it is only an hour's drive by car. It is remarkable that I can be on a journey so close to home and yet be so far away"

I feel that way every time I go to the SF Bay. I can get there in less than an hour by car ( 30 -45 min) yet it takes ALL day to do it by boat.

Keep up the good work Laura!

[CharlieJ]

And rather quickly, here's day 10

The gates of the boatyard had been swung shut and chained while we were gone to dinner last night. Fortunately, the slot between them allowed just enough space for us to sneak back in. A few minutes after we woke this morning, Charlie quietly slipped back through the gates and left me to face my crime of trespass alone. He thought my trial would go smoother if I was still a woman alone on the boat. It might have gone well because the owner is quite fond of older boats and admired Tehani's lines or it might have been that I forgot to brush my hair this morning and looked more bedraggled than I felt. I would like to believe the owner was gracious because people that spend time on the water understand its demands. In any case, I was thankful and prepared to leave as soon as it was light enough to run safely.

The onshore breeze moderated last night but remains strong enough that Tehani and I have a lively beam reach across the bay. She speeds forward in the gusts and as we near the protected waterway at the north end of the bay I play the sheets to keep her on an even keel. A forecast for the wind to return to the southeast later in the day had given me hope of making good speed along this forty-five mile stretch of desolate waterway but by 10 a.m. I am motor sailing. Most of the breeze is blocked by the land and it is only the gusts that have enough momentum to reach us and carry us forward. The motor keeps us moving at a steady five miles per hour and when the gusts hit, Tehani gains an extra one to one and a half miles per hour. I try to let the tiller pilot take the helm while I eat my mid-morning snack but it cannot handle it today. Tehani darts for the shore in the gusts and the tiller pilot is too slow to bring her back on course. I am frugal with my fuel and I don't want to give up the extra speed provided by the wind so I resign myself to sitting at the tiller.

Just past noon I reach San Antonio Bay where it reaches for ten miles along the waterway and I am able to shut down the motor for a while. The wind has not gone to the southeast yet and we are on a close reach. Spoils are piled on the south side of the channel blocking the wave action, more in some spots than others. Even though I don't want to go today, it would be nice to know I could duck into the bay and reach across to Matagorda Island. I don't know where or even if there is a safe passage through the spoils. I watch the waves to see if they expose the most likely spot. My response to Tehani's helm becomes automatic and we sail on without word or thought as I am absorbed in the pattern of the waves.

The wind still hadn't moved to the southeast and I was forced to start the motor when we left the bay and fell into the lee of the land again. I haven't been able to eat lunch and I tire of the gusts and sitting at the tiller. I take the sails down and put the tiller pilot in charge of the helm where the channel widens at the entrance to the Victoria barge canal. I eat and brew a pot of coffee. Then I sit on the bow, sip my coffee and watch the world pass by as I rest.

I did not want to return to my first anchorage behind Matagorda Island. It would not be so nice in these east winds. My only option was to anchor behind Sundown Island and its shoals that extend toward the jetties cut through the Matagorda Peninsula. The current sweeps through the narrow pass and into the Gulf of Mexico at five to six knots and it is a little frightening to be this close to the big ships and tows that traverse it. I put out seventy-five feet of chain and an extra twenty-five feet of nylon rode in six feet of water then keep an eye on my position for more than two hours before feeling sufficiently confident. Tehani rides to the current while waves approach from starboard. The wind has finally gone southeast. I tuck myself in against the starboard side of the v-berth to keep from rolling about and try not to think about tomorrow.

[AdriftAtSea]

I'm shocked and horrified at the criminality of your brazen breaking and entering... ;)

Fair winds Laura... :)

[CharlieJ]

Hey- we didn't break a thing ;D

If the chain on the gate is THAT loose, and YOUR boat ( and bed) was on the other side, what would YOU do????

Besides- we TRIED to call both the regular number and the emergency number with no answer- sooooooooooooooooooooooo ;D ;D

[AdriftAtSea]

Load the shotgun... :D  and prepare to repel boarders... :)

[CharlieJ]

Here's the final installment of Laura's cruise..  Hope you have enjoyed the  posts.

Day 11

As the sky begins to lighten I move from the cockpit where I had been sipping my morning coffee to the lazarette on the stern. I sit with my legs dangling overboard and peer into the water. Last night it was thick with phosphorescence. I had dipped buckets of it then poured it back into the bay just to see it sparkle. As the sun rises I carefully open the velvet bag I have kept safe in Charlie's locker then I hold it over the water and let my brother's ashes go in the golden waters of Matagorda Bay on the outgoing tide. I hope he found peace.

I am ready to go home. Thunderstorms approach from the south. An immense black cloud advances, slowly thundering along the coast only two miles away. The wind pumps through Tehani's rig even though the sun continues to shine on us. Whenever a break appears in the storms I check the weather report: thunderstorms developing through 9 a.m., thunderstorms developing through 11 a.m. then thunderstorms developing through the afternoon. I quit listening. It would be dumb to leave a safe anchorage and risk getting caught in a thunderstorm. I crawl in the v-berth and nap. When I wake Tehani feels motionless and I notice it is quiet outside. I check the clock, two in the afternoon. I pop my head out the companionway to see clear skies to the south and only a small lingering thunderstorm to the north. It will be gone by the time I get there. It is twenty miles to the marina and I have a little more than five hours of daylight. I can make that run. It's time to go home.

I know my journey is over. Waves left from the storms roll up behind but the wind is gone. I grip the tiller. The motor churns and my only thought is to make miles. Once past Gallinipper Reef I know I only have a couple miles to go. Charlie will be waiting for me at the marina. A seagull circles overhead then disappears. I think he is on top of the bimini. I am startled when I see him there. He flies off only to come back and land facing me from across the cockpit. I yelp in surprise and it scares him away. I remember the feather found on the bimini the day I left. Maybe this was supposed to be a message. Do we control our destiny or are we just floating on the breeze? Then again, maybe it was just a seagull glad to see his roost return.

Here's a link to a google earth image showing Laura's route and places she stopped-

http://www.griffithart.com/googleearth/solocruise.kmz

And the image if you don't have google earth

[gltea]

Thanks Laura for sharing.  I really needed to be reminded of how good it feels.  I never kept a log of my travels.

A grog for you.

[AdriftAtSea]

Thanks for the map. :) Grog to you for the stories and photos.