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The Crew Log of the Rose May,
2006 There was plenty of room in the cabin, but the trip taught us what gear we don't need taking up space. We don't need a different set of clothes for every day on the water, two sets of snorkeling gear for mud-gazing, the original Macgregor removable galley, extra jib and the battery-draining cooler/heater ice chest (batteries gone in 36 hours). We now pack a much lighter ship. The dingy did well, but was utilized for nothing more than lounging, hauling refuse (SS Trash Barge), and the occasional securing-back-on-deck practice in high wind. Brian did very well helping crew the Rose for the first week, though an anchor lies at the bottom cursing his untimely engine revving ways. All in all, he is a good man to have aboard. We sailed all over Canyon Lake, both night and day. Sailing silently through the night is a powerful experience of freedom and tranquility. Amy enjoyed working the rigging and fine tuning the wind flow across the sails of the Rose. The only major hiccup that we encountered was the fault of a safety switch! We were motoring along a cliff, keeping it about 150 feet to our starboard, when the motor coughed, sputtered and died. I pulled the cord a couple of times in vain and pulled off the cowl. About this time a faded blue sailboat passed between our boat and the cliff, asking if we needed help. I thought not, at first, but then realized that the 150 feet of clearance had become 100 feet of wind blown water. The man dropped his sails and pulled up beside us. I quickly tied along side his 27 footer and he towed us to the moorings. As we motored under diesel power, he explained that this was his first time on a sailboat, and was having a great time. He bought the boat for $100 and took over the slip fees. I envied his $800 furling job as we neared the moorings... After mooring off, we chatted for a while, while I tinkered with the outboard. The plastic switch that prevents the engine from starting while in gear had given up the ghost. Snip, twist, tape and the engine was purring. I now check that we are in neutral before I start the engine, and I never have to worry about safety putting me in danger again. Nothing like a problem to encourage meeting new people, and cruisers like Edward are the people to meet, though I wish my boat has a furling jib. After we found out that the moorings by the marina were freely available for use, we tied off there often. Our nightly attempts at finding the "perfect anchorage" were harboring negative results. Between the day-old mayflies swarming (like in the millions, man!!!) and the comfortable insect-free moorings near the marina, the choice was obvious. Plus, we had our duckies to look out for us. Amy became quite adept at lassoing the mooring buoys with our anchor rode. It wasn't until later that I realized what that hooked pole was for. Amy doesn't care what that hooked pole is for, she will continue lassoing buoys since we're so good at it now, and we're Texan, dammit. Amy and I fed our troop of ducks every evening at our mooring. 100 yards away dozens of hungry quackers loitered about the marina, but these brave three would make the trek to a guaranteed source of tortillas, scraps or chips, every day. Oddly, the wasabi trail-mix went virtually untouched by man and fowl, alike. All told, the Rose handled like a dream and was
very forgiving on our first extended voyage.
Dec 3rd, 2006
Dec
5th, 2006
Dec
9th & 10th, 2006
Dec
16th, 2006
Dec
17th, 2006
March 3rd - 12th, 2007 We spent most of our nights at the Crane's Mill mooring and frequented the smaller and more intimate Crane's Mill Marina. Our new marina's lack of a restaurant was barely noticed. All of the employees were very friendly and helpful, especially Debbie and Denise. The owner even let us charge our boat's batteries a couple of times, while we were running errands in town. We learned the marina ducks' names and fed them often. Elvis, Priscilla, Lisa Marie, Brownie, Oreo and Charmin were plump, happy ducks. They would wait right outside the door of the ship's store to be fed by its accommodating employees. The fish were also quite prolific and surfaced quicker than at our old marina. We saw a dinosaur park on our Canyon Lake map and had to take a look. It was a small place with a single curator, but they were having a meeting and a couple of geologists were present. The curator was very nice and for $3 you get full access and a bit of history. The tracks were neat to see and the museum offers a glimpse into early Texas. They also have an exhibit of the Canyon Dam and '02 flood pictures. You can't beat it for the price; I'm glad we visited the Dinosaur Park & Historic Texan Museum. Brian (our first first mate) came to join us for some sailing on Wednesday and we all had a great time sailing across the lake to the dam and back to the marina. There was some good wind that day, but for the most part the breeze was erratic and not very strong. We cooked most of our meals on the boat, venturing to Subway only twice. I believe we will be eating well on the coast of Florida, in June. Debbie was kind enough to lend us a small B&W television, which I rigged into the boat's electrical system. The Rose was becoming more and more like home, with all the amenities. (I finally acquired an 8.4" LCD TV/GAME/DVD/MP3&CD Player, which arrived days after our return. If we liked Debbie's TV, we'll really like this one.) The air mattress in the extended V-berth is comfortable but not the right fit (being rectangular), so we have planned to create a 4" thick mattress, cut to fit properly. This should really open up the forward berth and not be such a chore to climb in and out of. Three layers of camping foam and one layer of memory foam should work nicely. On Friday, day 6, my brother Jonathan, Katara and the kids arrived at Crane's Mill Park to camp and enjoy the Birthday festivities. The next day we all went sailing. I wonder if eight people and a dog doing 6 knots is any kind of Macgregor record? Aside from a well executed emergency "man overboard" pickup, fun was had by all. By the time we returned to the park Saturday afternoon, the party was well on its way. Friends were everywhere and the laughing lasted well into the night. The next day it began to rain, which motivated most friends to head home before Amy and I emerged from our dry haven, but we helped pack up the last of Jonathan's things and bid farewell, as the drizzle became rain. We had tied up the to Cranes Mill Park dock, which was resting on the bank in only 18" of water. I am very glad I bought a boat that I can beach. We had no problem tying off to the dock, with the keel resting lightly in the mud. Sunday night the rain picked up, lightning was everywhere, and the wind howled. I constructed a crude tarp shelter over the boom, keeping the cockpit from splashing water through the companionway. It was good at catching wind in a gust and heeling the boat a good 8 degrees, at times. Our little TV kept us abreast of local weather alerts and tornado warnings. We found a few small ceiling leaks, but I expected much worse. It was exciting; we loved it. The next day was calm, and quite surreal when I emerged from the cabin. The lake had taken in all the runoff from flash flooding in the night and was filled with debris. Some floating logs were as long as the boat. Our dock was now actually floating. The lake rose over two feet during the night! Amy drove the Jeep around to the ramp, while I carefully motored through the cloudy, brown water, careful to avoid the larger logs. Making it through without incident, we returned Debbie's TV, agreed to come back soon and headed for home. All in all it was a wonderful vacation and good practice for Florida. I'm looking forward to our April Canyon Lake Adventure.
Saturday, June 9th, 2007
"Maybe we should have a jack, or possibly a lug wrench? And, oh!
The bearings are dry!" Back to the house. Our early start wasn't
meant to be. Well, three hundred dollars and three hours later we escaped the gravity of locality hauling four spare trailer tires, riding on two brand new monster tires and rims. During the winter our originals had rotted, waiting for the first good bump to explode, surely sending us into a catastrophe. I honestly believe that insignificant splinter of metal saved the expedition from certain disaster. With the confines of comfort behind us, we headed for Houston, or around Houston, I should say. The new tires made all the difference, but nevertheless, we did not want to brave the perils of downtown sprawl. A 'shortcut' is always a good idea to those destined to add six hours to their adventure. Our shortcut, Loop 6, sent us into the burgeoning commercial district of northwest Houston. After the 16th stoplight, we reached our first opportunity to retreat and rejoin I-10, but tenacity is paramount, when on the wrong path. After two and a half hours of Houston, we emerged into piney forests on smooth Texas roads. Louisiana does not have smooth roads. Our 'roads less traveled' approach took us deep into the Bayou, offering a glimpse into the rural heart of Cajun country. There was hardly any traffic on the road, and the reason was soon apparent. KA-BUMP! Ka-bumpity-bump. The locals take the interstate, not the pitted pavement interlaced with narrow bridges preceded and completed with what seem like small curbs stretching across the lanes. We have added air to the tires three times. Since there is no visible damage to our trailer or the sailing vessel perched atop, I can safely say the small towns and natural scenery made it all worth while, not to mention an adrenaline kick any skydiver would envy. We finally arrived in Baton Rouge, resigning to merge with the nation's greatest transit system, looking forward to the wide, smooth surface to which I am so accustomed. Not so. The differences between the rural roadways we were escaping and Louisiana's interstate system do not involve potholes. With one more rutted lane to choose from, you get ten times the speed-demon-lumber-truckers and a multitude of flashing red and blues dotting the shoulder. Let me tell you, there is no more thrilling time to travel in Louisiana than at eleven on a Saturday night. After seventeen harrowing and bumpy hours, our 'eight hour' journey finally came to a close. "Let's push on to Biloxi," I said, but Amy's better judgment and Stella's constant meowing swayed my resolve and stayed the march. La Quinta Inn is our home for the night; the only vacancy for fifty miles. Trust me.
Sunday, June 10th, 2007
Monday, June 11th, 2007
We puttered around the river that evening, getting our sea-legs back. Anchoring for the night was an experience. Mosquitoes and a soft muddy bottom that didn't stick to our anchors made for a restless night. The next day we made final preparations and by early evening we motored the 5 miles downstream to Gustaf Bay, anchored for the night and slept very well.
Wednesday, June 13th
We reached Bayport and Hernando Beach around three in the afternoon, but a few phone calls revealed that no facilities (docks, fuel, showers) were available, and we should continue on to Hudson Beach, another fifteen or twenty miles south. The wind had picked up and the Rose was clipping along at five knots, so we continued on, our hearts light. "At this rate we should reach Hudson well before sundown!" We had been noticing a cloud bank behind us for most of the afternoon, and occasionally checked the weather radio for updates, but they kept reiterating their call of "seas two feet... inland waters, a light chop..." It was just too nice.
After a while of smooth sailing, Amy suggested that we check the weather again, as the clouds were getting closer and darker. No sooner had she reached for the radio when a gale force gust hit us from behind. The sails made a loud KaWUMP! and the Rose was suddenly racing 10 knots downwind! The calm waves lapping at the rear of the boat were now 4 feet tall with rabidly foaming peaks, threatening to broach us. We released the mainsheet, but instead of reducing speed, as we were accustomed, the boom rose into the air, caught on the backstay and wrapped the sail halfway around the mast. If we turned at this point, a knockdown or a ripped sail was a distinct possibility. Amy donned her life jacket, while I held us on a steady course, preventing the jibe that would throw the boom across our beam with neck-breaking intensity and possibly lay us over. Amy lowered the foresail as if she had done it a thousand times before, and I lifted the boom free of the backstay with all my might. With the mainsail free, we maneuvered into the waves with our little outboard at full throttle. My life-vest inches away, I couldn't let go for a moment or we would veer off and get broadsided by the angry swells. As if we didn't have enough to contend with, one of the clothespins holding a shirt up for shade popped loose, falling into the motor mount and preventing us from using the engine to turn left. Throughout the ordeal, I was forced to steer left with the tiller and right with the motor. We dropped the mainsail, but could not get to the sail cover, as Amy was clutching the sail down around the boom and I was steering back into the oncoming waves for dear life. 15 long minutes later, the wind calmed enough for me to hand Amy the sail cover, and after securing it, she returned to the cockpit. After catching our breath for a moment and checking on Stella (who was peeking out of her bilge and eyeing her food bowl), we remembered to get the camera, but by then the worst was over. If that didn't make any of us seasick, nothing would! We had been caught with our sails up but did everything right after that, averting disaster.
An hour later we were pulling into Hudson and safety as night fell. Haggard but exultant, we reached shore, but no docks were visible and the only inviting lights were those of Sam's Seaside Restaurant. Since they had no dockage, we examined the shoreline and found it soft and sandy. We immediately beached the Rose and leapt ashore to join the diners in some fine food and drink. They were puzzled by our creative landing, but amicable enough. That's where we met Dave Graham. Dave was walking along the beach between our boat and our table on the restaurant's deck, and apparently overheard our waitress trying to give us directions to a nearby marina by land (which did us no good as we were traveling by sea). He offered directions we could follow by boat, and we offered him a beer to come join our table. He did, and a couple beers later we had a few hand-drawn maps with several good suggestions of places to visit and safe anchorages. Dave is a sailor, too, currently working on restoring his 36' sailboat which was devastated by a tornado and then by SeaTow, one of the companies you can call if you get stranded. They do not come well recommended as they are essentially pirates who will "legally" claim ownership of your incapacitated boat if you leave it for any reason (like to go for help). Fortunately there are other options. Anyway, we swapped phone numbers with Dave and bid a good night. We tried to follow his directions to Mike's Marina, which was just down the beach and up a little canal, but it was dark and the canal entrance was blocked by a tree-covered breakwater which looked like land. It was also very shallow as the tide was out, so we ended up scraping bottom and anchoring out in a very shallow cove just outside of Mike's.
Thursday, June 14th, 2007
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