Having finally claimed a fitting and comfortable sleeping spot, I was expecting nothing but the best of sleep. I was saddened, or am now, to realize that it wasn't going to happen. Extreme weather showed its ugly face and I was awoken to Ella nearly on her side. I was thrown against the wall of the bed and as I opened my eyes I saw groceries and cooking utensils come flying from their location toward my head. I quickly sat up and got what bearings I could gather. The weather outside the window looked harsh and I could hear a worried bit of chatter up in the cockpit.
I hesitated to join the rest of the crew on deck because of a lack of rain jacket, and interest. I eventually went up and chaos quickly followed. We battled the elements for several hours until we hit smooth waters. Our hearts and minds settled and I was finally able to make up for lost rest. The day turned from gray and cold to brutally hot and bright, which was unfortunate because through a miscommunication in planning we ran out of sunblock. To top it off, Ella's little engine that had been powering us more of the way than we had planned was giving out. We decided to find safe harbor and cut our course due East for Naples to refuel.
We had been about 65 miles off shore and it took us a long while to get close to land. We saw land finally and decided we again needed to shoot off a few rounds from the gun and finish off those damn clay pigeons once and for all. I finally got cell reception and was able to talk to my people, which greatly lifted my spirits for a while, but at the same time it made me a bit home sick.
I slept for a bit and was awoken to panic and lightning. This was happening whilst we tried to enter the harbor in Naples. Mosquitos chewed at us from the mangrove marshes and Ella's engine went in and out of service. We needed gas desperately and it was nearly midnight. We could not see, nor did we know the way to the city dock. So we had to improvize our plan. A mission to find fuel was planned, and three of us -- me, Brian and Jesse -- were dropped off at the dock of a mansion in Port Royal, which is the richest neighborhood in Naples, and likely in Florida. Luckily, or so we hoped, the house was abandoned for the summer and we snuck our way to the street in front to call a cab.
The cabby picked us up and laughed as we explained our predicament. He was very accomodating and felt badly for the harsh times we had to endure. We got gas, sunblock, water and McDonalds for the crew and headed back to the dock at about 3:30 am. As we trespassed through the property, we saw that there was an approaching thunderstorm on its way. No more than 30 seconds after we unloaded the fuel and goods, the heavens parted and we were pissed upon by the gods. I had to lie down for a bit, but got up to enjoy the lifted spirits.
Whilst on our mission, we formulated a new plan to get to Key West, which was either to rent a car or take the ferry from Naples to Key West in the morning. We proposed it to Mac and he approved to the ferry idea. We motored our way to Naples City Dock whilst laughing and chugging champagne, snapping ridiculous pictures the entire way. We tied up to the fuel dock, awaiting the arrival of the Dockmaster. It was about 4:30 am, so we knew it wouldn't be too long. At this point I hadn't slept in many hours, and Day 5 was beginning, whether I liked it or not, with much controversy. Spirits and energy levels were at their bottoms. We needed cold beer badly.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Day 3 -- Navigating the Doldrums
I began thye graveyard shift with Prewitt at about 2:30 am, only to find the Gulf to be flat as glass and strangely quiet. My fatigue had not subsided and it soon overcame me. I was a bit weary at the helm and as I could not see the compass well enough I had to guide Ella's course by the stars in the sky. But after stairing at the stars for hours trying to remain on course, they began playing tricks on my tired eyes and they were doing things starts should never do. They began to flip and zip and jump from side to side. On the horizon I saw and imagined horrible things that I knew did not exist, but nonetheless they still frightened me and I knew I was completely rattled to the core.
Prewitt attempted conversation to keep our minds sharp, but I hadn't the strength and I quickly felt full exhaustion take over me. After begging for the sun to rise, it's eventual ascent to the sky proved to be quite the stunning image on the reflection of the calm waters. Jesse awoke and I quickly ran to claim his bed. I slept hard for a few hours and awoke to some wind and hot skies. I think boredom and frustration had set in as we realized we were many miles behind where we intended and needed to be to make it to the Dry Tortugas.
Eventually we had to make the decision to cut the Dry Tortugas out of our trip entirely, because we would not make it to Key West in time and would likely not make it home in time, as the wind was not going our way and we hadn't the motor to make it.
I chose to take the early shift so I could get some more good sleep. We drank hot tea with Jack Daniel's and cruised on until it was our turn to sleep. I got a good bed, put on my iPod and slept as long as I could. That was, until I was brutally awoken the next morning.
Prewitt attempted conversation to keep our minds sharp, but I hadn't the strength and I quickly felt full exhaustion take over me. After begging for the sun to rise, it's eventual ascent to the sky proved to be quite the stunning image on the reflection of the calm waters. Jesse awoke and I quickly ran to claim his bed. I slept hard for a few hours and awoke to some wind and hot skies. I think boredom and frustration had set in as we realized we were many miles behind where we intended and needed to be to make it to the Dry Tortugas.
Eventually we had to make the decision to cut the Dry Tortugas out of our trip entirely, because we would not make it to Key West in time and would likely not make it home in time, as the wind was not going our way and we hadn't the motor to make it.
I chose to take the early shift so I could get some more good sleep. We drank hot tea with Jack Daniel's and cruised on until it was our turn to sleep. I got a good bed, put on my iPod and slept as long as I could. That was, until I was brutally awoken the next morning.
Day 2 -- Sunrise, Shotguns and Steak
After only a few hours of mild sleep, I decided to give the crew at the helm a rest and relieve them for a while so they could sleep. McQuade and I were motoring from about 2:30 am until just before day break, when we witnessed a heavenly sunrise and were greeted by a strong wind. Discussions followed between us, and eventually the crew slowly rose to see Ella's sails full with wind. Mac eventually napped, as he's been known to do for days at a time, and things for the rest of us got a bit off course. But we eventually righted our course. With fishing lines out, we hoped to catch our dinner, but there was little interest from our friends of the sea. I attempted to nap again, but alas, the Florida heat in the cabin of a 27-foot sailboat is less than ideal for comfort. There was a bit of excitement as Mac suggested we attempt to lower the center board a bit, which meant stalling the sails and swimming underneath the boat. We were about 25-30 miles off the coast at this point and the water was blue -- and quite deep. They were unsuccessful in the end, but it seemed to brighten spirits a bit.
After that, we decided it was high time for target practice, so I pulled out the 12-gauge Mossberg pump action with an 8 shell capacity. We had a hand tosser for the clay pigeons as well. We proceeded to hoot and holler as we blew clay pigeons out of the sky, and followed it all up with a meal of steak and potatoes on the small grill. If there were to be any grunting and beating on chests, it would have taken place then. No go though.
Fatigue was setting in for me and I decided a sleep was in order. It was short-lived though, and I was soon up again to pilot Ella through the dead winds of the graveyard shift, and I saw the Gulf as though I'd never seen it before.
After that, we decided it was high time for target practice, so I pulled out the 12-gauge Mossberg pump action with an 8 shell capacity. We had a hand tosser for the clay pigeons as well. We proceeded to hoot and holler as we blew clay pigeons out of the sky, and followed it all up with a meal of steak and potatoes on the small grill. If there were to be any grunting and beating on chests, it would have taken place then. No go though.
Fatigue was setting in for me and I decided a sleep was in order. It was short-lived though, and I was soon up again to pilot Ella through the dead winds of the graveyard shift, and I saw the Gulf as though I'd never seen it before.
Day 1 -- Ella Rides On
Ahoy folks.
Pardon the catchy sailing cliche, but it's been a while since I've had human contact outside of the 4 other people on this boat. I'll give you a play by play on the days as they've gone, so without further hesitation....
Day 1
Seeing that we had all made it to the boat in the estimated/intended time, I thought it quite odd after the fact that we didn't get into the Gulf until well into early Saturday morning. But let me back up. We packed the boat for about an hour and a half, and kept peaking over our shoulders at the impending storm that was forming just past Tampa Bay. My brother phoned and said this particular storm had serious teeth, and we might consider waiting to push off for a bit. I was in the minority with that particular idea, so the Captain -- Chris McQuade -- called it and we pushed off into a dark and stormy Tampa Bay, with lightning hammering itself down all around us. The winds began to rip and it made every mast sound like a screaming banshee. It closely resembled what I think choirs in hell might sound like. Regardless our captain opted for a hasty departure, directly toward the fierce lightning, howling wind and abundant rain. Poor Ella -- the boat -- could not muster the strength to exit the harbor, however, because her motor did not have the power to battle the ripping current coming into the harbor.
We were forced to bring her back to safety and we waited out the storm. A half hour passed and we drank beer and reciting Walt Whitman to solidify our appreciation for the journey at hand and the elements we were likely to face. We eventually pushed off into a dead wind, so we had to motor it until we could catch something in the sails. The hours flew by as did the bottles of Roset, which Chris Prewitt bought a case of and have become quite the fancy of the crew. We went under an unlit SkyWay bridge and tried to find the channel out into the Gulf, and by that time it was well into the early morning, so I opted for sleep while the remaining crew fought the dead wind.
Pardon the catchy sailing cliche, but it's been a while since I've had human contact outside of the 4 other people on this boat. I'll give you a play by play on the days as they've gone, so without further hesitation....
Day 1
Seeing that we had all made it to the boat in the estimated/intended time, I thought it quite odd after the fact that we didn't get into the Gulf until well into early Saturday morning. But let me back up. We packed the boat for about an hour and a half, and kept peaking over our shoulders at the impending storm that was forming just past Tampa Bay. My brother phoned and said this particular storm had serious teeth, and we might consider waiting to push off for a bit. I was in the minority with that particular idea, so the Captain -- Chris McQuade -- called it and we pushed off into a dark and stormy Tampa Bay, with lightning hammering itself down all around us. The winds began to rip and it made every mast sound like a screaming banshee. It closely resembled what I think choirs in hell might sound like. Regardless our captain opted for a hasty departure, directly toward the fierce lightning, howling wind and abundant rain. Poor Ella -- the boat -- could not muster the strength to exit the harbor, however, because her motor did not have the power to battle the ripping current coming into the harbor.
We were forced to bring her back to safety and we waited out the storm. A half hour passed and we drank beer and reciting Walt Whitman to solidify our appreciation for the journey at hand and the elements we were likely to face. We eventually pushed off into a dead wind, so we had to motor it until we could catch something in the sails. The hours flew by as did the bottles of Roset, which Chris Prewitt bought a case of and have become quite the fancy of the crew. We went under an unlit SkyWay bridge and tried to find the channel out into the Gulf, and by that time it was well into the early morning, so I opted for sleep while the remaining crew fought the dead wind.
Friday, July 25, 2008
There Will be Silver
I've told only a few souls of this, but now I'm putting it out there for general knowledge, perhaps in an effort to boast.
It was proposed by one of the crew members of Ella that we construct a time capsule in order to bury what we thought would be a sentimental reminder of this journey. But as time passed over the idea, it formed a new skin of shiny ore. We decided burying sentimental items was not going to be good enough to convince us to return in 10 years and dig it up, so it was agreed that we would each add a small investment toward silver.
The idea sounded a bit ridiculous at first, but then as I mulled over it for some time I found myself getting giddy at the fact that somewhere out on the open waters and sandy shores of the Gulf of Mexico, I will have treasure to return to. It might not be worth much, but the idea isn't to get rich off of this. No. That's what Wall Street is for, if you know how to spin that wheel.
I suppose the appeal behind all of this is that we will actually have something of value, be it sentimental or financial, to claim and only to be found by the five of us. The location has yet to be determined, and unfortunately I will not be disclosing this location to anyone. I'll point to a map and draw an overly sizable circle and say, "It's around this general area."
We will likely use a GPS to track our booty, but in the end I think a true treasure map will have to suffice for this. I tell you this, in hopes you'll understand my interest in this. How many people actually get to dig up buried treasure in there lives? I don't know of any so far, but in 10 years, if I'm fortunate enough to be gracing this fine ball of dust with my presence, I will be certain to describe the feeling one gets upon unearthing a vast quantity of silver, which is to be immediately followed by a hearty belly laugh and a long pull from a bottle of rum. He who dare touch that treasure will have the ghost of my vengeance hot on his trail.
Yo ho.....
It was proposed by one of the crew members of Ella that we construct a time capsule in order to bury what we thought would be a sentimental reminder of this journey. But as time passed over the idea, it formed a new skin of shiny ore. We decided burying sentimental items was not going to be good enough to convince us to return in 10 years and dig it up, so it was agreed that we would each add a small investment toward silver.
The idea sounded a bit ridiculous at first, but then as I mulled over it for some time I found myself getting giddy at the fact that somewhere out on the open waters and sandy shores of the Gulf of Mexico, I will have treasure to return to. It might not be worth much, but the idea isn't to get rich off of this. No. That's what Wall Street is for, if you know how to spin that wheel.
I suppose the appeal behind all of this is that we will actually have something of value, be it sentimental or financial, to claim and only to be found by the five of us. The location has yet to be determined, and unfortunately I will not be disclosing this location to anyone. I'll point to a map and draw an overly sizable circle and say, "It's around this general area."
We will likely use a GPS to track our booty, but in the end I think a true treasure map will have to suffice for this. I tell you this, in hopes you'll understand my interest in this. How many people actually get to dig up buried treasure in there lives? I don't know of any so far, but in 10 years, if I'm fortunate enough to be gracing this fine ball of dust with my presence, I will be certain to describe the feeling one gets upon unearthing a vast quantity of silver, which is to be immediately followed by a hearty belly laugh and a long pull from a bottle of rum. He who dare touch that treasure will have the ghost of my vengeance hot on his trail.
Yo ho.....
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Preamble
I imagine when I tell most people of the trip I’m about to embark on, they conjure up the notion that I’m a lucky man for being able to take time in the moment and go on vacation, sailing on a boat and living off the fruit of the sea. But you must know that it’s more than that.
This trip is more than just simple pleasures and rip-roaring shenanigans on Duval Street. It’s got more substance than that. At it’s proposal, those invited on this trip all felt a certain chord struck from within. It was a calling, really. Not in any heavenly or fateful way. “Time and tide wait for no man, gentlemen. This could be just another great idea, or it could be a trip like no other.” That was our battle cry, if you’ll allow me to use that term loosely.
The trip itself immediately conjured up images of the five of us sitting in the cockpit or cabin of the lovely Ella — a 27-foot Erwin built in the 1960s — whilst sipping rum and catching the salty breeze on our sun-burnt faces. But those images were quickly supplemented by the idea that this was our great escape from what we have come to realize as our lives, and it was to be our opportunity to find and capture the bit of life that has slipped away from so many of us. We find ourselves at such a confusing age, having each recently departed the security of college, felt the utter confusion of career pressures, been rocked by one or two schisms of what we once thought was the love of all loves and been faced with the brutal reality that we are now on our own paths, be they to glory or doom.
This opportunity we are now blessed with is one that is to be taken on with all our will and whim, and it’s not to be taken as a simple way to let our minds unwind and partake in a bit more vice we’d otherwise not. No. This is more than that. This is our opportunity to test ourselves and perhaps even our limits on the open waters, with our fate in our own hands and that of the gods above. Safety and sensibility will not be lacking on this trip, for he who denies respect to the elements is quick to get a harsh lesson taught to them. This is to make something of ourselves in what each of us has likely thought to be a trivial existence thus far.
“We will take only pictures and leave behind only footprints.”
This trip lacks a motto, at least for now. Perhaps, though, it can be likened to a memento of this nation’s great past, as we fly a flag of old revolution atop our mast, reminding us the luxuries we are afforded because of the pursuit of liberty by our forefathers. While their history might forever be debated and their intentions often scrutinized, there is no denying in any of our hearts and minds that such liberty must not be taken for granted and must be exercised thoroughly, else we forget what that notion of liberation truly means. Not just on a national level, but in the human spirit as well. Liberation is a grand theme of this trip.
As we set off into the sun setting into what I hope to be a calm Gulf of Mexico on Friday, July 25, I can’t help but to think of this blessing of life we have been granted. Our achievements as people are forever to be judged, but the possibilities for us as humans are as limitless as the vast expanse as the waters on the horizon.
I hope to return with a rested spirit, a full heart and a memory that will never be taken from me.
See you all very soon.
Dave
This trip is more than just simple pleasures and rip-roaring shenanigans on Duval Street. It’s got more substance than that. At it’s proposal, those invited on this trip all felt a certain chord struck from within. It was a calling, really. Not in any heavenly or fateful way. “Time and tide wait for no man, gentlemen. This could be just another great idea, or it could be a trip like no other.” That was our battle cry, if you’ll allow me to use that term loosely.
The trip itself immediately conjured up images of the five of us sitting in the cockpit or cabin of the lovely Ella — a 27-foot Erwin built in the 1960s — whilst sipping rum and catching the salty breeze on our sun-burnt faces. But those images were quickly supplemented by the idea that this was our great escape from what we have come to realize as our lives, and it was to be our opportunity to find and capture the bit of life that has slipped away from so many of us. We find ourselves at such a confusing age, having each recently departed the security of college, felt the utter confusion of career pressures, been rocked by one or two schisms of what we once thought was the love of all loves and been faced with the brutal reality that we are now on our own paths, be they to glory or doom.
This opportunity we are now blessed with is one that is to be taken on with all our will and whim, and it’s not to be taken as a simple way to let our minds unwind and partake in a bit more vice we’d otherwise not. No. This is more than that. This is our opportunity to test ourselves and perhaps even our limits on the open waters, with our fate in our own hands and that of the gods above. Safety and sensibility will not be lacking on this trip, for he who denies respect to the elements is quick to get a harsh lesson taught to them. This is to make something of ourselves in what each of us has likely thought to be a trivial existence thus far.
“We will take only pictures and leave behind only footprints.”
This trip lacks a motto, at least for now. Perhaps, though, it can be likened to a memento of this nation’s great past, as we fly a flag of old revolution atop our mast, reminding us the luxuries we are afforded because of the pursuit of liberty by our forefathers. While their history might forever be debated and their intentions often scrutinized, there is no denying in any of our hearts and minds that such liberty must not be taken for granted and must be exercised thoroughly, else we forget what that notion of liberation truly means. Not just on a national level, but in the human spirit as well. Liberation is a grand theme of this trip.
As we set off into the sun setting into what I hope to be a calm Gulf of Mexico on Friday, July 25, I can’t help but to think of this blessing of life we have been granted. Our achievements as people are forever to be judged, but the possibilities for us as humans are as limitless as the vast expanse as the waters on the horizon.
I hope to return with a rested spirit, a full heart and a memory that will never be taken from me.
See you all very soon.
Dave
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