Team Surona "Stop draggin my keel around"

Yes we are a little tired. After an oil change, a rudder compass swing and a new AIS unit we got under way. The guy at the dock said "No y'all don't have to travel all the way up to Carabelle to start your crossing. Y'all can go out into the Gulf right here". He told us to stay to the west of the marks you see and favour the greens on your way out and you'll be fine. All went well up until just before we entered the channel that leads out. When these people dredge the silt from the channels they leave what they call spoil, or the dredgings piled underwater along the sides. Following his directions we stayed west and upon entering the channel we located an underwater pile of sand. Luckily, we had experience in cultivating the ocean floor. This time no heed was taken as to possible deviations in the bottom. Cheryl is always saying "Go for it" so we were wide open and we hit the sand at a breathtaking 6.5 Knotts and momentum thrust the nose down, the back up and we slid over it like seasoned dozer operators.

We edged her out the channel and pointed her nose to Tarpon Springs, 150 nmiles away ATCF (as the crow flies).

We left the dock at Noon, and traveled the 10 miles to exit the channel at the barrier islands. After swinging the compass, pointed her east at about 2:00pm. Wind speed 10 knots with gusts to 15, south and east, off our front starboard quarter. With the engine we were able to average 6.8 knots (powersailing). ETA was to be 10 am.

For some reason swinging the compass failed to bring any positive results. It wouldn't work properly so we had to man handle her for the next 160 miles. We sailed 40 miles offshore with no landmarks on the horizon to steer by. It wasn't until the stars came out that navigation was made easier. We discovered that the flashing lights that went to the airport were unreliable. The real stars still moved as the night progressed.

We dined on a gourmet meal of canned beans under the stars.

During the afternoon we watched flying fish, porpoises, pelicans, and we were pleased that the buzzards that had followed us from Chicago were no where to be seen. We took turns sleeping and steering. Hour on and hour off with Peter doing most of the work. The waves were 1 to 2 feet which were pleasurable. In light of what we went through a couple of days ago this was a piece if cake. We had a half moon and a sky full of stars.

At one point it looked like torpedos were surrounding our boat. The porpoises had returned. Phosphorescent knives, sliced through the surface and under the boat. We were concerned about hurting them, but that was unnecessary.

Through the night we shared the helm, preparing for the upcoming daylight hours.

The entrance to Tarpon Springs poses a few challenges to the unfamiliar sailor. At the same time as we tried to understand our charts, the motor decided to lose RPM's. Top this off with a mine field of crab pots for as far as the eye can see. Stress? What stress? Stress has become a way of life.

I think the motor sucked up something bad out of the tank, but I will look at that tomorrow.

As we entered the channel into Tarpon Springs, the motor went into what seemed like a death spiral. I put the sail up in the hopes of coaxing her into the marina - 5 miles up the river. And somewhere, I am sure someone said "release the hounds" and 200 mad power boaters approached and overtook us.

To a boat sensitive to sucking up tank algae, tremendous wakes compound the agitation that we really weren't looking for. The motor died, the sail carried us, and one power boater slowed down. We coaxed the motor into running again and were able to arrive Tarpon Springs City Marine, where the pelicans are obviously on drugs. Few things look more stupid than a pelican on a post.

It's 4:15 p.m. Night. Night.