WARNING – There are a ton of pictures here :)

Escaping East from the so called “real world,” the first blip on the radar is a tiny little pair of islands poking out of the water like the lone illuminated sign of a truck stop on a long Texas highway. Like a truck stop, this place is often populated with travelers making their way one way or another, but this isn’t exactly your typical Wawa or 7/11. Here, you won’t find cheap laxative-infused burritos and stale coffee. You probably won’t even find Peanut M&Ms or beef jerky.

Oh no. Here, in this delightful little place, you’ve finally found the first piece of Paradise.

Bimini is everything you’d expect from a little spit of sand in the middle of the ocean. Other than a bunch of small marinas, a few restaurant/bars, and a conch salad shack here and there, there isn’t much to remind you how close you are to the hustle and bustle of Miami and Ft. Lauderdale. Only about 45 miles away, you can almost see the glow of the big American metropolis on a clear night. Over the last two years, the mega corporation Resort World has invaded and built a big casino and hotel complete with a cruise ship dock, but even though its just a few minutes’ golf-cart ride away on whats practically the only road in town, its easy enough to avoid if you want to maintain the authentic island-time experience. Its also easy enough to get in and take advantage of the huge new pool! Regardless of where you spend your time on the island, you’ll find Bimini to be an extraordinarily friendly, easygoing, and welcoming place.

We docked Contigo at the quaint Brown’s Marina after a 30 hour run from Marathon Key. Other than a brief scare about a rumored stormy forecast overheard on the VHF, it was a peaceful albeit exciting trip. This was the first time I’d sailed across the Gulf Stream in the Atlantic, and let me tell you that thing is a phenomenon not to be taken lightly. That current was strong enough to push Contigo along at an extra couple of knots if we cooperated with it, and there is no doubt the waves take on an entirely different personality when rolling through the Stream.

We tied up just after sunrise, made ourselves a few stiff celebratory drinks, and crashed out like the tired salty sonsofbitches we were.

^ You have to watch that video on a computer, cant watch it on a mobile device. I added a copyrighted song and YouTube caught me :/

… And at last, we’d found our friends. Four months behind schedule, Contigo and her crew was finally reunited with Brian and Cassandra of the Miss Informed, whom we’d intended to meet at that same dock for New Years. Their trip through the Bahamas was nearly over and ours had just begun, so we took advantage of the remaining time we had together and enjoyed the island.

^ Sorry Brian I stole that from your Facebook….

We rested up, bought as much cheap Cuban rum as we could carry from the liquor store just across the street, and got to work indulging in the hard knock life of an island hopping sailor. Since we didn’t have cell service, it was a fine epiphany to have when it hit us how easily we could disconnect from the “real world,” and disconnect we did. The problem was that our friend Bob was about to land in Bimini and I was careless enough not to give him details on our exact location, rendering him a lost, luggage-touting wanderer for a few hours. Sorry Bob, but I’m glad you met some people while waiting for us to realize I screwed up.

Speaking of meeting people, two awesome new friends entered the picture during our conquest of Bimini. One day, while Xavier and I were sitting on the porch of the liquor store drinking some ice cold Kalik Gold (a fantastically drinkable 7% Bahamian beer) we’d just bought, some particularly sketchy dude on a fittingly decayed golf cart that I couldn’t believe was still running approached us trying to sell some… herbal medicine. Dorian, whom X and I immediately renamed “D,” came out of the store and saved us from an embarrassing encounter with Mr. Sketchy. Street cred acquired, we thanked D and invited him to BBQ that night for rum infused political and ethical discussions and some delicious food. Thanks again D.

^ The always incredible Chef Pablo cooking up some bangin’ food at the BBQ grill at Brown’s.

Another night, while all of us were kickin’ it in the cockpit trading sailing stories with Brian and Cass, a curious half-Cuban gal was walking up and down the dock reading boat names out loud trying to lose some Miami “The Situation” wannabe guido dude that was following her around.

Girl – “Contigo!!!”

All of us – “Aquí aqui!! We tenemos mucho rum-o!”

Between fits of wild laughter, she introduced herself as Lauren Lavender, which is of course the coolest name anyone has ever had other than perhaps James Bond, and she goes by Lala. We hit it off from the moment they came on the boat to the moment Guido randomly decided to leave after a a half-hour of awkwardly sitting there in the corner ignoring the conversation. I guess he finally realized he wasn’t getting any that night, or maybe he just wasn’t familiar with being on the boat because he tried to disembark by climbing up the lifelines like they were a ladder. Swinging around with a terrified, dumbfounded look on his face for what felt like a full fifteen seconds of hilarity, he was perched on the wagging white cables like an overweight infant trying to climb out of a playpen. Launching himself toward freedom, he nearly got himself killed when he almost fell forehead first on the hard wood dock. He even tried to steal the Captain’s hat she’d been wearing and childishly threw it down when Lala called him out as he was walking away like a spanked dog who’d gotten caught tearing up a trash bag. Had we not been laughing so hard, we might have felt bad for the poor guy.

Liberated from the creeper extra from a knock off episode of Jersey Shore, the party kept rolling.

^ I can’t stand posting blurry pictures, but some of these are just too good not to post. I think it more accurately depicts our state of mind anyway.

Brown’s Marina was such a fine place to stay, and Bimini was such a great place to meet people. Check out this video of a very cool fishing guide we met cleaning fish not twenty yards from our boat named Shammy Sammy! This is a fantastic video.

(Sorry about the profanity in this one… if you’re in public, turn the volume down. Also, I cant get Youtube to put up a thumbnail but its worth watching)

Just before we left town a few days later, we also spent an afternoon visiting the Sapona shipwreck just South of Bimini. I probably have a hundred brilliant photos of that awesome old concrete barge, and if anyone ever has a chance I highly recommend snorkeling the wreckage.

Both D and Lala immediately became part of the crew, and you’ll see a lot of them as I get through the rest of the adventure. I could go on and on about how much fun we had playing French Darts (explanation and pictures at the bottom) and roaming around Bimini like a pack of wild drunken buffoons, but I think a whole bunch of pictures will do the trick better than I could.

^that is a Bahamian Speaker Phone

^that is how we plan our expedition
^ Thats a plane landing in Bimini… its a wild sight!  

Oh yeah one more thing. This guy pictured below is named Humphrey and was the dock master for Brown’s Marina while we were there. He was a hilarious dude who epitomized the Bahamian island-time lifestyle as he spent his days hanging out in the marina’s bar (its not stocked he always asked us for booze) watching TV and reminding everyone that “Humphrey doesn’t hump for free!” Apparently he passed away not long after we left, so this entry goes out to Humphrey!

French Darts: Also known as Polish Horseshoes, this game has nothing to do with France, Poland, darts, or horseshoes, and is perhaps the most fun game on the planet other than…. okay no its definitely the most fun game on the planet. The idea is to set up two sticks about 25 feet from each other and set an empty bottle of Kalik on top of each stick. We use PVC pipe with a round flange for a flat surface on which to set the beer. Then, each team of two people, each with a drink in one hand, has to throw a frisbee at the opponents stick trying to knock over the bottle. If the bottle hits the ground it counts for two points, and if the receiving team drops or doesn’t catch the frisbee (provided its thrown above the knees and within arms reach) thats worth one point. The receivers can’t catch the frisbee before it gets to the target, but they can try to prevent both the frisbee and bottle from hitting the ground by catching it after contact is made. The first team to get to 21 points wins the game. Brian is absolutely nuts at playing defense that guy can catch a frisbee and bottle in one fluid move with one hand. Pablo, as it turns out, used to be an ultimate frisbee player and he can throw that thing like Peyton Manning can throw a football. Anyway, its a great game I highly recommend it.

Thats it! See ya at the next entry!

           ^ Contigo anchored just off Thunderball Grotto in Staniel Cay, Bahamas

If there is a Bahamian Goddess of Sailing, she’s certainly not keen on discipline. She is an Island-Time Calypso, seducing salt-stained sailors with the promise that here, in this crystal blue paradise, time is endless as the ocean and abundant as the rum.

It’s her fault, I swear. I mean, look at that picture above. There hasn’t been an update because Bahamian Calypso prefers her adherents to celebrate safe passages by drinking and relaxing in excess like discoverers of Shangri-La. But now its been long enough. As I type this on September 8th, its been exactly five months to the day since Contigo left Key West toward the Bahamas. I promised myself I’d get no farther than a week behind, then almost immediately, I succumbed to the sun-drenched urge to kick responsibility to the wind.

So this is my second excuse to use this meme…

These days, back in my beloved Fort Myers Beach for about a month waiting on another replacement mainsail (we’ll get there…), I’ve got time like Flava Flave. I haven’t updated since we stopped at Bahia Honda Park and then provisioned in Marathon Key. Not since we left the States to visit Bimini, New Providence Island, a half dozen of the Exuma Islands, back to New Providence and Bimini, then into Ft Lauderdale for a few months (plus 5 weeks visiting home) before making a storm-motivated run around to Fort Myers Beach (here now) to prep for the trip back across the Gulf of Mexico this fall.

         ^ Our track ever since the last update

Needless to say, there are a lot of stories to tell. So where’d I leave off? Oh thats right. We were just about to leave Key West…

        ^ The tired but never beaten KW flag as it is now, Sept 8th.

Leaving Key West was a major milestone on this trip. We’d been flying the blue Conch Republic Flag ever since Corpus Christi, hanging it over us like bacon on a stick attached to the head of a hungry dog. We’d goofed around clumsily, tripped over dozens of unseen obstacles, and managed to learn a boatload about cruising while chasing some 1,500 miles after that crispy Key West bacon.

Now all of a sudden, that beaten blue flag represented where we’d been as opposed to where we were going. Key West was a damned fine appetizer for ambitious salty-dogs like us, and with newfound energy we charged toward the Bahamas like a pack of restless mutts who’d just gotten over a food coma and wanted… well, we wanted more bacon.

First, though, we needed to get at least as far up the Keys as Marathon so we could grab a decent tack for the jump to Bimini. Our first stop, heading generally Northeast again for the first time since the Texas coast, was Bahia Honda State Park.

Bahia Honda has a little anchorage between two bridges and right across from a state park beach with an entrance to a tiny little center-console dominated marina that looks more like a dinghy dock than an actual marina. Naturally, we anchored right in front of the beach. Paying close attention to the ripping current and stout wind, we set the hook and checked out the impressive surroundings.

Bahia Honda is a great little anchorage between two large highway bridges running along the Keys. One of them, the Bahia Honda Railway Bridge, has long since been decommissioned and has a section knocked out to allow tall boats to enter. The thing is falling apart, and for those that appreciate modern ruins and bridges and big rusty deteriorated structures, this is a gorgeous place.

We met another sailor anchored in the same area heading to Marathon. As is required by maritime superstition/law, he was having problems with his diesel engine. I helped not-fix that old Atomic Diesel just long enough to share a cold beer with him, and the next day he sailed out through the gap.

We we’re next. We ran up to Marathon and grabbed a lucky open mooring ball not three hundred yards from the dinghy dock. We rested up just in time for a spontaneous visit from another fraternity brother of ours, Xavier. Along with his friend Wayne from Key West, Xavier (aka “X”) brought along enough Bud Light to lean Contigo over about five degrees to starboard.

We stocked up, rested up, told our families we loved ‘em, and headed out for Sombrero Key Lighthouse. We’d planned on leaving Sombrero Key in the morning, but our rocky stay on the mooring ball there motivated us to skip out around midnight.

^ I’m not sure but it looks like someone didnt like the rockin’ n rollin’

So….. I promise (again) to get this thing updated.

Truth be told I never really thought this blog would turn out to be more than a personal “travel journal” and a way to keep my family and close friends from thinking we’d gotten run over by a barge. I never thought people I’d never met would ask how to buy prints of our photos and where we’re going next. I never thought I’d see over 10,000 hits in one day on our pages. Granted, that particular post was the one about Spring Break in Fort Myers Beach complete with booty shaking contests in front of the Lani Kai and a whole bunch of promotion both online and at the bikini-laden beach, but still! who’da thunk it? I never thought I’d get so busy with beaches and side-projects over these past few months that FollowContigo.com would sorta get…. forgotten.

But no more. Next stop, Bimini, Bahamas.

First of all, did everyone see that goofy video of Paul playing around on the dink? It’s hilarious….

Anyway, back to the blog! We were still in Key West, and with the Yanmar diesel just hours beyond her most recent repair, the prospect of meeting our first charter customers drove us to cruise the local pubs for walking dollar signs.

As it turns out, spontaneously meeting would-be charter customers isn’t very hard if you visit the right place. The trick, however, is getting from draught-beer-driven conversation to a wind-driven, money-making charter. We learned the carbonated way that ya can’t put too much value on a good happy hour. We met so many people from so many corners of the world sitting at that tiny bar at Pepe’s drinking $1 Yuenglings and eating baked oysters I couldn’t ever hope to list them all.

One was an Australian sailor who’d circumnavigated twice. Another was a retired graduate school professor turned cruiser with long silver hair draped over frail but proud shoulders whose accent I couldn’t place if my life depended on it. This man somehow managed to convince me to go back to school, and then all within the same conversation, to avoid it at all costs. I asked if he thought I wasn’t cut out for it. “No,” he enthusiastically replied. “Graduate school isn’t cut out for you.”

I guess we sailors have a way of steering clear of the systems and standards of society. Sailing, at least for me, is becoming far more than a method of travel. In Flirting with Mermaids, John Kretschmer describes his relationship with sailing:

“Sailing is my lifeline. Sliding across an ocean, propelled by spirit and sail, is synonymous with freedom. It’s not freedom from responsibility, for sailboats are the most demanding of mistresses and nobody laughs at the concept of freedom like old Neptune. But my freedom is the ability to shake off the grip of society’s expectations.”

One particularly adventurous couple, Kim and Doug from New York, bumped into us at Pepe’s. We all hit it off from the very start. Kim and I were born in the same hospital in Corpus Christi, Doug is a musician turned pilot, and we all love oysters. It was love at first draught; we’d found the perfect match. After a few more oysters and Yuenglings, Kim and Doug agreed to become our first sailing charter. The trip was a huge success and we had far more laughs than we deserved. They even managed to play cupid and bring along a couple of cute med students for us to mingle with…. can’t be mad at that! Big thanks to both of you!!

We also met a number of especially hospitable locals, some of whom were’t exactly your typical “local.” As I’d mentioned, we were anchored just off Christmas Tree island, which as it turns out, is far more inhabited than it looks. A psychedelic tribe of camping/sailing rascals took us in like family and we shared many a night by the campfire cooking pasta and listening to Joey play classical guitar iterations of Bohemian Rhapsody under solar-powered neon lights.

Not to be outdone, the mainland offered just as warm a reception. Brian of Danger Charters, his sparky girlfriend Brooke of Schooners Wharf, and their entire group of awesome friends showed us a splendiferous time. Yes, I just said splendiferous. T’was that good. We met them at a little craft beer bar called The Porch, and by the time the night had passed us by we felt so at home we could have moved in next door and lived the rest of our lives.

Even the men’s room at the Porch is worth checking out! ^^

A few days later we met up with Brian at his house for a great BBQ after a few gourmet Bloody Marys a la the always exquisite mixologist Brother Pablo.

The BBQ was fantastic, the company was generous, and yet again we had more laughs than we deserved. Brian even had draught beer on tap!

(Yes, that is a big octopus hanging above Adam’s head.)

We even spontaneously jumped into a little sewing circle to make cornhole bags for Brian’s cornhole set.

Yet again, as had almost become habit on this adventure, we’d met the right collection of people that made us feel like we belonged.

A few days later, our college friend Allen and his law school buddy Chris came down from Jacksonville to meet us. As usual, we got ourselves into more than we’d bargained for, but suffice it to say that the nights lasted long and the company was again fantastic. As it turns out, Chris is an epic Super Smash Bros player, and I don’t say that lightly… because I am an epic Super Smash Bros player and I don’t like getting my ass handed to me. Chris, I demand a rematch.

We took a quick snorkeling trip to Sand Key just West of Key West. Its a gorgeous reef, and a common destination for local chartering companies…

One night at the dinghy dock, we saw four enormous and beautiful manatees grazing just below the surface of the shallow water. It was dark, and its hard to see in the picture, but Allen being Allen decided to slip in the water. He never tried to or intended to disturb or touch them, and he never did, but he wanted to be with them for just a moment.

By the time we had to leave Key West, I was fantasizing about living there permanently…

Then again, we were racing the wind till we discovered Paradise and we wouldn’t stop till we found it…

Big thanks to Casey for the especially detailed (not to mention marginally edited for family consumption) account of how we chased the limits of overindulgence during his visit in Key West!

No more than a couple of days after Casey left, the North end of Christmas Tree island where we were anchored got brutally slammed by a Northern wind front. Our friend Mike, one of the great people we met in Fort Myers Beach, took this picture of the storm as it was heading our way…

As it happens, I was on land stealing Wi-Fi from a nearby restaurant when this sinister storm roared into Key West. I jumped in the dink and hightailed it back to Contigo. Fortunately for all of us, we’ve got the greatest crew this side of the Atlantic. Major credit to Adam and Paul for getting ahead of the game and getting the boat prepared before I made it back. Well done fellas! Those instincts of yours certainly saved the night!

Bursting through growing wind-driven rollers in that little inflatable on the way back to the boat, I saw Mother Nature wreaking havoc on the sloppy little anchorage. Two boats were crashing into each other, their rigging intertwined, pitching and rolling in a watery wrestling match until a miniature fleet of dinghies came in to separate them before even more damage was done.

With Adam and Paul onboard Contigo and the recently crippled engine miraculously powering through the rising waves to keep her away from other thrashing boats, our anchor rode got tangled with another. Since I was already on the dink, I sped over to heave it free. I was barely able to untangle the 3/8-inch chain and 35 pound anchor when the excessive weight halfway submerged and disabled the dinghy’s little six horsepower outboard motor. I was adrift, but Contigo was free. Adam and Paul were able to duck and weave the heavy Morgan 38 through the chaos and out of harms way toward a clear space in the anchorage, and our new friend James came in to tow me and the dink back to the mothership.

It wasn’t over yet.

We got the boat anchored, but the brief sense of relief that came with a lull in the storm was quickly spoiled by the panoramic view of a massive impending second stormfront following just behind the first. We needed to set a second anchor, so we started the motor and…

BAM!

With the sound of a cinderblock crushing into a concrete slab, the motor told us it was stuck. It wasn’t hydrolocked, it was caught on something. I dove down to find the friggin’ dinghy tow line, which I’d haphazardly tied to Contigo in the mayhem, had drifted under the boat and wrapped about a dozen times around the prop. I mean that thing was really really stuck.

…. Damnit.

With dusk fast approaching and this second wind front racing to beat it, daylight was becoming an issue. I took the coveted Capt. Sonny Hill “Oh Jesus!” knife and dove down, the hull crashing up and down over waves just above. I can’t hold my breath nearly as long as I thought I could…. but after more dives than I could count, the prop was free and Contigo was again mobile. We set two anchors and swam a third line out to a stray mooring ball, then we settled in for a wild night.

From Contigo’s bow, I measured 35 knots sustained. Over the VHF we heard another captain report a gust up to 50 knots. BoatUS was flying around doing whatever they could. The Coast Guard was all over channel 16 alerting everyone to the numerous boats adrift and a missing family somewhere farther East who’d just called out a Pan Pan. Less than 200 yards away, we watched a singlehanded sailor desperately trying to furl in a violently shredding headsail.

Later that night, the wind howling all around us, we noticed the dinghy had broken loose. Fortunately someone else found it the following morning and tied it to a nearby boat. We never met them, but thanks to ya, wherever you are! The Gettin’ It, our beloved dinghy, is safe and sound.

That night our thoughts went out to the damage done and people missing (who we believe turned up safe) and we jumped headfirst into a glass or three of chardonnay each.

Behold! the power of the wind!

—- Sorry I don’t have any pictures of that wild ride, but we were a bit busy wit the whole…. well… you know….

Check back tomorrow for the rest of the Key West experience!

Heres Part 2 of Catching Up…

After leaving the dark blue Mississippi Sound and flying through the breezy southern end of Mobile Bay, through a few miles of channels connecting Wolf and Arnica Bays, and another five miles or so of double-waterfront mini-mansions, you’ll find a very special part of the ICW. You could almost mark the point on a map.

The water just sort of… changes. Just like that. Just before Fort San Carlos passes to the port side. I didn’t get a picture of it, and I don’t even know if it would have shown up if I had, but that water just turned clear.

Welcome to Florida. We had finally arrived… ish.

We found a friendly little marina called Pelican’s Perch that’s immediately next to a reputable Yanmar parts dealer that we couldn’t pass up. [Which reminds me, there’s a reviews page coming soon!] The weather, as usual, was a bit of a bummer. The marina itself felt a world away from “paradise” but it was full of resources and good people.

We needed some time to get ourselves together before the big jump south across the gulf anyway.

We finally had a dinghy, now we needed a motor. We’d been searching for a used 6hp high and low since New Orleans, through Biloxi and now all over Pensacola with nothing to show for it, so finally I gambled the extra dime on the value of a new engine. Maybe I’m picky, but I sure am happy with the 6hp Tohatsu so far.

Now we had a dinghy and a motor, but we needed a way to put the bigger-than-youd-think inflatable on the boat without blocking the hatch slide.

Fancy that, there’s a great metal fabricator in the marina.

Of course we had a couple of anchors, but now with all this chain we’d picked up in Morgan City we wanted to put some use to our bow sail locker… so we added a poor man’s hawse pipe…

My bruddah-from-another-muddah, Capt Dax, has this great canvas flap for his companionway. We could use one…

Hey look, a canvas shop next to the marina shower house.

Water, diesel, and one more round at The Oarhouse and we’re outta here.

But wait, there’s more!

We’d spoken with a few mechanics throughout this trip about our symptoms with that Yanmar; hard starting especially on cylinders #1 and #3, ability to start quickly when decompressing either #1 or #3 for a moment, white smoke from the exhaust when it starts up, slight diesel sheen in the water from exhaust after it starts, runs perfectly after it starts, starts easily within 24 hours or so of last run, no other symptoms of running poorly or other colors of smoke from exhaust or anywhere else, etc etc etc.

They all suggested, among other things, pulling and likely replacing the injectors and gaskets as a means of solving a possible over or under fueling issue. Its about time anyway, etc etc. We’d been saving some money staying on the anchor, Pelican’s Perch gave us a good weekly rate, and we’re right next to a great Yanmar dealer, so I said screw it lets just replace ‘em.

Most of all, I wanted to be finished with engine problems on Contigo.

Plus the Cowboys were in the playoffs and I didn’t mind sticking around for the weekend :)

Anyway, it didn’t work. At least not completely or enough to start the motor normally. Anyone looking for 2 out of 3 perfectly working fuel injectors for a 3QM30?

We’d basically been hitting the wrong nail on a board with a lot of loose nails worth hitting. So, instead of moping around, we put everything back together, hit The Oarhouse to hit on some more gorgeous bartenders, and hit the Gulf of Mexico the following morning.

We left Pensacola status-quo on the old Yanmar, but with what we’d gained in marine diesel knowledge and other tweaks to Contigo, the stop was worth it.

To the Gulf, to the Dry Tortugas, and to a clear-water-paradise we go…

Well… I’m guilty.

I’ve completely neglected the blog for the better part of a month. I guess there are some somewhat valid excuses; I could tell you how my laptop has been in and out of a corrupted-operating-system-induced coma, how accessing the internet has proven to be such a chore, or how I just didn’t feel what we were doing was all that interesting. Well… there are definitely some tid-bits worth sharing. Now, we’re stuck on a mooring ball in Fort Myers Beach and I’ve got all the time in the world to play around on my now working laptop.

Either way, I’ve got some catching up to do and I’m not looking to cram a zillion words and pictures into one long blog entry. Lets do it bit by bit…

Hanging out in Biloxi was a pretty uneventful time. There wasn’t much for entertainment other than the casinos, and we’d seen enough slot machines and overpriced Golden Nugget restaurants to make us prefer life in a bowl of Ramen. Thankfully, Paul could always be depended on to make sure we eat very well at anchor or otherwise.

The closest thing to groceries was a 7/11 a few blocks away, and the nearest liquor store was as overpriced as it was understocked. Oh Biloxi…

After two seasons of House of Cards (Kevin Spacey is nuts!) and a few days of crazy rain, I got cabin fever and took the dink for a ride to nearby Deer Island where an old Endeavor 37 has been facilitating some… uhh… youthful expression.

As soon as we could, we weighed anchor and kept it running East.

We found a nice little anchorage called Round Island. Apparently, that little island used to be some ten times bigger but hurricanes have been wiping it out piece by piece just like so many of the Mississippi Sound barrier islands.

We charged on to the Alabama – Florida state line. I do my best not to post too many sunset pictures, but that night the lightshow was particularly breathtaking…

Near Wolf Bay we found two cool little restaurant/marinas, Pirates Cove and Flippers. The latter had a nice little screened in and heated patio bar outside with an absolutely bangin’ burger on the menu. The former was practically deserted for the offseason, but we managed to tie up for the night and keep our trip going the following morning.

Pensacola and more engine trouble in the next post. I promise it wont take me three weeks this time…

Here we go! The hobbled Yanmar is charging us through Pensacola Bay like a champ and we can almost smell the open Gulf.

The EPIRBs are registered and the GPS tracker is on, so be sure and check out our “Where’s Contigo Right Now” page and follow along!

Four hundred and fifty short miles from now we’ll be looking at Fort Jefferson in Dry Tortugas…..

Leaving New Orleans via Lake Pontchatrain felt just like sailing Corpus Christi Bay during the winter. Big, open, gray skies over choppy gray/brown water. We motored North away from the Industrial Canal and headed toward the Mississippi Sound by way of the Rigolets.

The wind was steady out of the NE, which is typical because thats exactly where we were headed. A few miles into the river we found a decent close hauled motor-sail tack and charged our way toward the Route 11 and I-10 bridges. By the time we made the Rigolets (rig-oh-lees!?) it was a totally pitch black night. No moon, dark clouds, and the bow splitting wind as cold as a witches tit.

After a few night-blind turns (thank you GPS, radar, and spotlight) we found a great little anchorage in West Old Pearl River right next to the Rigolets swing bridge and played “hot dice” till we passed out. When we woke up, we could see the bridge no more than a mile or two away.

And a little typical bayou traffic… Houseboat?

The huge Rigolets Swing Bridge swung opens “slower than molasses on Christmas,” as said by the bridge master, so don’t let the time lapse fool you. We were just puttering along as slow as we could till that thing opened, then we flew outta there.

Once we were in the Sound we turned East and let 2014’s last sunset chase us all the way to Ship Island. It really was a gorgeous night, but when that sun went down the temperature dropped like a rock. Can we be in the Bahamas yet?

Things started getting pretty choppy. We pushed our way across the channel to Gulfport and anchored just off the leeward side of Ship Island for New Years Eve. The island itself is gorgeous as most of the Miss. Sound barrier islands are, but we were just there for a pit stop. In fact, we were getting tossed around most of the night, and even on two anchors it felt like we were on the verge of being thrown out into the Gulf at any time. That morning, though, we found our anchors dug so deep it took two of us at the bow and and the third working the motor to resurrect the danforth and fluke from their deep sandy tombs.

[That’s Fort Massachusetts; a Civil War era fort on the North side of Ship Island. I’m a huge history buff, and if the weather was nicer you better believe I’d have explored/trespassed the heck outta that thing. ~ H]

After Ship Island we tried to continue East in the Mississippi Sound, but the wind was, as usual, hard in our face as was the strong Mobile Bay current. The old Yanmar pushed the heavy Morgan hard, but we found ourselves lucky to make 3kts. We all sighed a collective “Screw it.” and headed to shore to wait out a couple of storms that looked like this…

We ended up just off Cadet Point in Biloxi where we stayed one night at the city marina and three more on the hook watchin’ the NFL playoffs and local weather on the little Amazon HDTV antenna. Its too bad getting stuck when we’re chomping at the bit to keep moving, but we’d be crazy complain. Biloxi is a very easy town for a few days on the hook, plus we’d just gotten a dinghy so we could row to shore for beer and casino time whenever we wanted. There’s not much of anything for grocery stores in the Point Cadet area, but hey free stay is free stay.

…not to mention, we’d been able to steal some WiFi from a nearby restaurant. So, its pretty much been open season on House of Cards on Netflix the last few days…. Kevin Spacey is a total psychopath…

When we left Biloxi, there was a pretty gnarly freeze coming our way for the next few days, so we hightailed it across the Mobile Bay to jump back in the ditch till Panama City Beach. We’re getting closer…

Last I posted we were headed toward New Orleans from Houma expecting a quick stop to ride out a storm, grab some tunes n’ brews in the French Quarter, and get outta there toward Panama City Beach for New Years. In the thirteen days since that post, we’ve made it all the way to….

Biloxi, Mississippi. Thats not PCB. Dang.

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.” I guess Lennon had a good point. We didn’t exactly make it as we planned it, but such is the life of a cruiser.

The trip from Houma to New Orleans was mostly relaxing. We did pull up to the Boomtown Casino just South of the Harvey Lock where we actually managed to get $90 in free food for spending about that much gambling while getting free drinks all night. The ICW on that run wasn’t heavily trafficked while we were cruising through, and the infamous Harvey Channel and Lock was a cakewalk compared to the horror stories we’d heard back home (ehm-ehm Capt. Rob).

The run from Harvey to the Industrial Canal was exhilarating. The Mississippi River is a mighty one indeed, and we were able to get the heavy Morgan up to 9kts under engine only with a vigorous following current.

The real excitement came when we tried to pass North through the Industrial Lock. Fortunately for us, the GoPro ran out of battery while we were tied up before this part so I don’t have to prove quite how awkward it was since theres no photographic evidence. But let me tell ya, we all felt pretty silly. Rob, you’d have loved this part.

When we pulled up around 2:00pm, two barges and the lockmaster were radioing each other from opposite ends of the lock about how the wind was really kicking up. Its blowing 35-40kts from the south and still building. After about an hour, those barges had passed and it was our turn. Keep in mind we have to make the next bridge by 3:30 to beat the curfew, or we’d be stuck in the narrow channel until 7:00pm when the bridges can open again.

… And theres a big storm on the way.

We pulled into the lock running 3kts under bare poles and the engine in neutral, so believe its windy. As instructed, we pulled our port side along the wall and tossed lines to the guy on top of the wall. He told us to tie one to the bow and the other about halfway toward the stern. Almost immediately, the stern caught the wind and swung out like a barn door in a wind-tunnel.

We were now almost totally sideways and the wind was building behind us to the South. With Paul holding the bow off the concrete wall, Adam and I put everything we had into pulling the stern through the wind to bring us back in line just as the lock opened up for us to leave before the next barge came in. Next time, we’re tying the stern.

That was just the start of the Industrial Canal.

There were something like a million lift bridges in the few miles from the Industrial Lock to the North end of the Industrial Canal and Seabrook Marina. One such bridge, the Chef Manteur highway bridge, didn’t have anyone at the controls. Contigo’s mast rises about 48.5 feet above the water, and the “reported clearance” for this bridge is 50 feet. Luckily, the wind wasn’t hitting us quite as bad this far from the Mississippi, but it was still a factor. Now, though, we we’re caught between a now closed railroad bridge and a supposedly just tall enough Chef Manteur lift bridge with no one to lift it.

After phone calls, a ton of Googling, a zillion VHF hails to New Orleans Maritime Traffic, anyone on channels 9, 13, 14, and 16, and a bunch of little circles in this little spot we’d gotten stuck in, we decide to go for it. The bridge says 50’, and we say we’re shorter than that. So I said lets go.

Its impossible to articulate the rush of nervous adrenaline we were feeling right then. We’d just survived the Industrial Lock, and now this. When I tell you we cut it close, it just doesn’t do it justice. We really cut it close. Another foot of tide and the antenna might have been a part of the bridge. Another few feet and who knows. Whew.

After that, we made it to the marina just in time for that storm to hit. So many things came so close that day, and it all seemed to fall in line just at the right time. We beat the storm and made it to NOLA!

No matter how you look at it, things can only be so bad when you’re talking about being stuck in New Orleans for what turned out to be a week. The Seabrook Marina was a great place to stay, and even though in the NE corner of town we weren’t close to really anything entertaining, we managed our way into the Quarter for Christmas Eve without having to call a cab. It seems our good friend Dax was yet again cruising by toward his new job working crew boats, so we had a ride wherever we wanted to go pretty much the whole week.

[^The Spotted Cat is easily one of my favorite live music joints in New Orleans]

Good Call Paul also suggested we all check out the Treme band for Christmas Eve… and that was friggin’ brilliant.

Speaking of Good Call Paul/Brother Pablo, breakfast on the boat is never short of bangin’!

Even a bit separated from town, it wasn’t too bad getting around for supplies when we needed them, and the marina had a nice little general store not fifty feet from the boat. Unfortunately we couldn’t track down a diesel mechanic in the area since it was Christmas and then the weekend, but we had a lot of time to figure out a good work-around for starting the Yanmar.

We also ordered a little something to help us get around while at anchor…

As soon as we can get some lettering, the name of the Newport Vessels 8’10” inflatable is “Gettin’ It.”

After a week in New Orleans for what we’d hoped would be the longest weather delay we’d see for a while, we jumped into Lake Ponchotrain and headed North East…