Biscayne Bay

02/20/2021

It’s wonderful waking up in a super swank marina after a good night’s sleep. Tyler knocked out a fabulous breakfast, we birded, and chin wagged and chatted with the crewmembers at the billionaire’s yacht club. There was a lot of polishing and hanging of flags going on.

What is less wonderful is when you are on the water and your mast is too high to get out of the harbor without using the “Security Zone” past the cruise ships. We had such a lovely police escort on the way in, but this morning’s police boat was “Absolutely not—without permission of the U.S. Coast Guard. “ The Coast Guard didn’t seem that interested in our predicament, since we had failed to file the requisite Notice of Arrival (a mere 1600.00 form).

Sarah was at the helm when she spotted a pair of Florida Fish and Wildlife Agents puttering about. Julie and Tyler hailed them down and explained our situation. They fired up their blue lights and escorted us to the ocean. Me? I ordered John to take the fishing rods down below, since we never purchased a license and all.

We motored out to sea, navigated the shallows and entered Biscayne Bay by way of Stilts Ville. That was an off shore prohibition era community that was beyond the reach of the gambling authorities back in the day. What was once a “must see” Miami destination is now a remnant in a national park.

Tyler and Sarah figured out the onboard navigation system as we putted along the coast, and everyone felt greatly relieved when they gave us the tour. We can now drop points on a map, lock down headings, put the boat on autopilot and know exactly where we are at all times.

In the bay we put the main sail up, and while I was delighted to kill the dual diesel engines, our boat didn’t go anywhere. 1 knot in big wind with the captain’s wheel jammed when turning off the wind. Sarah and Tyler went to work as the rest of us scratched our heads. They liberated the traveller, trimmed the sail, and attempted different configurations, as we floated in circles going nowhere.

I was at the helm when we caught some wind and six knots came up fast. Then we were back to being becalmed, with the wheel jammed in the opposite direction. We were reading, and Googling when Sarah solved the problem by unfurling the gennaker. On a catamaran you need the right sail plan to make things go. Without the gennaker we were unable to get the right “twist” to make her fly, but once we figured it out, she went like a rocket across the water.

There were a few tense moments. At peak frazzle Sarah approached me at the helm and said, “Do you know what a heading is?”

We set course, and happily sailed into No Name Harbor. We had trouble getting the anchor to bite, so we parked her on the seawall and headed to dinner at nearby Boater’s Grill. Tyler reached back into his years in food and beverage and finagled a sweet picnic table in a closed outdoor section of the restaurant. We have mad skills on this boat.

On the way to dinner a park ranger emerged from the woods and reminded us that we needed to be off the seawall by 11:00. Dammit. After dinner we got to set anchor for the first time in the dark—exactly what I was trying to avoid.

On the Covid front, a winter storm back home delayed the results of our tests, making us ineligible for health visas from The Bahamas. The winds on the gulfstream have shifted—they are now coming from the north, which means our weather window has closed. There will be no crossing this trip. Instead we are heading south.

Key Largo here we come. Maybe.