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After a few days of blue water wave riding and wild dolphin sighting, we ran into one thing we just didn’t expect to happen: the wind just died.

The Gulf of Mexico, the Great Washing Machine, was totally dormant.

Without any wind, we trudged on with that old Yanmar 3QM at a modest 1400 rpm to save on fuel. Compounded by the fact that we just can’t seem to get away from trouble with this ancient hunk of diesel chugging iron, we just couldn’t lose that engine.

Then again, we were on a sailboat with 400w in solar panels and provisions for at least a couple of weeks. Not to mention we didn’t have anywhere to be any time soon. Screw it, we could have drifted around for a week waiting for wind if we’d wanted to.

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Well, then again again, we had ice cold beer and red hot bikini-clad women to track down on a white sandy beach somewhere. As it works out, though, if that wind didn’t pick back up, we barely had enough fuel to make it to the Dry Tortugas. If we didn’t catch some wind soon, we wouldn’t have enough fuel to make the following leg from the DTs to Key West. So, we decided to give it another twelve hours or so of motor sailing and see if anything changed.

Something did change. The wind started breezing from the SE, right where we wanted to go, and we didn’t have a chance of motoring our way all the way there if the wind didn’t swing back around the other side. Without the patience to spend an extra few days tacking around in superlight wind, we decided to hang a hard left and motor for Florida’s nearest coast around Venice.

We arrived in port just in time to crush a few brews and find a good spot in an anchorage just around the corner. Adam was already passed out down below, so staggering from port to starboard we two salty sailors found a great wide open spot in the middle of the anchorage.

We woke up a few hours later, anchored in the same spot, but by now the anchor was irrelevant. [Sorry about the music Mom! I couldn’t help it…]

Apparently, we pulled into Venice during the peak of a rare 3.5 foot tide change. We were hard aground and leaning harder by the moment as the water swept out toward the Gulf and the Moon in the dark night sky above. By 7:00am, we were truly laying sideways in the middle of a dredge shoal.

I freaked out for a minute, realize there was no immediate danger (or anything we could do anyway), poured a round or two of Espolon tequila shots [whats up Harrison’s Landing peeps hanging out after work!!], and we all hunkered down for a slightly sideways night.

While we cruised through about 8 episodes of the Sopranos laying on the wall/floor, I made sure to document as much as possible.

After two separate attempts from the great people at TowBoat US, we stuck around in Venice and waited for the heavy clouds to clear our way back South. Apparently, Fort Myers Beach is pretty cool… Looks like the Dry Tortugas will have to wait…

Here’s Part 3 of Catching Up…

Getting out of Pensacola, away from the ICW, and back into the Gulf was an awesome feeling. We felt like we’d finally gotten somewhere, or rather, we we’re finally going somewhere. After spending the bulk of the trip in the ditch dodging North’ers, trailing tugboats, and dealing with the old diesel, the open Gulf was invigorating.

The forecast called for a breezy first night with Northern gusts up to 20 and waves around four feet. Well, it’s a good thing we were mentally prepared for it.

That first night was a wild one. By 8 o’clock the wind was out of the NNW up to 25 knots and we were running SE at around hull speed. The waves seemed to be changing their mind every hour or so, but for the most part they wanted to come out of the West or WSW. We were making great time but the sail was a bit rough.

When things seemed to settle down for a while I went below to grab some Zs and left Paul at the tiller. This was this guy’s first bluewater experience and he tackled it like a champ. Conditions in the Gulf of Mexico/Great Washing Machine were at least as sloshy as advertised, and things seemed to be changing constantly. At one point the wind died almost completely and Paul was practically surfing Contigo over five-foot rollers with hardly filled sails.

Then the wind changed its mind again and picked up from the North, then West, and we were suddenly on a run. Then the waves changed their mind again too, and they started following the wind. Breaking rollers, now easily eight feet tall and chasing us just off our starboard stern quarter, conditions were getting tricky by the wee hours of the morning.

“Hey Hank! HANK!”

I think I remember hearing the mainsail tear but I’m not sure. When I got above, Adam and Paul were doing whatever they could to get the sails under control in those wild seas, but with full sails Contigo was well overpowered by the strongest gusts yet. We didn’t measure it, but even heading mostly downwind it felt windier than earlier. The waves were doing jumping jacks behind us, clapping against the hull and splashing us in the swinging cockpit every few seconds.

Ok, so it wasn’t quite as bad as that picture…

It wasn’t anything to be too nervous about, but it was just dicey enough to be exhilarating and challenging. We got Contigo back under control with more appropriate sail area and she balanced well even in steady Force 6 winds.

Looks like we’re not bringing that mainsail up any higher this trip.

The thing is, we should have reefed those sails way earlier. Between the three of us, we heaved in the shiny new Genoa to about 30% and started pulling in the haggard main to its second reef. The tear was about 20” long and just above the second reefing point.

Things calmed down enough for the next 48 hours or so for us to enjoy a calm downwind sail. I hope you’re ready for a whole bunch of sunset/sunrise pictures.

[^ Thats the moon rising just above the sun that morning… very very cool!]