The prudent mariner always defers to Ma Nature, tries his damnedest to stay on her good side, recognizes her mood swings and above all never, given the option, locks horns with her. When I arose at dawn on Monday to get an early jump on my departure for Marathon and found strong easterlies blowing at 15 to 20 knots I paid homage to that Mother-of-all-Mothers and stayed put. I knew from experience, hard gained on this voyage, that such conditions would bring harsh steep seas in the Atlantic Hawk Channel and give a top-heavy trawler a real thrashing. I retreated to the womb of Key West once again and spent a delightful afternoon laying on a chaise lounge beneath a palm tree on the beach, rereading William Least Heat Moon's "River Horse," sipping the occasional drink and watching the big breakers, that could have been my torturers, bare their teeth harmlessly at my feet. Oh yeah, suck up to Mother Nature, Captain Bob, you wimp, and don't spill your margarita.
Tuesday morning broke serene, light southeasterly winds under 6 knots, clear skies and a steady barometer, patience rewarded. I quickly finished stowing all loose items throughout the boat for even in such mild conditions an errant wave or large passing boat wake can send things flying. With a split second touch of the starter switch, the big 300 hp Caterpillar engine, which hadn't been started since Jan. 24th., roared to life, sweet wayfaring music. I cast free of the mooring ball in Garrison Bight, on the north side of Key West, my home for the last seven weeks, and headed for the ship channel which leads south to the open Atlantic. I felt giddy with excitement, practically euphoric, to be under way once again. As I fetched deep water south of the island and rounded a red buoy to alter my course from south to east a huge manta ray came sailing out of the water, crossed my bow and returned to the sea with a spectacular splash. What a thrilling sendoff from Key West, more memorable than a 21 gun salute!
I settled in for the journey, running through my navigation checklist, setting my way points, double checking all safety considerations and stowage, rechecking the weather and firing up some music. As I slipped along the thought occurred to me of just how natural the complex operation of this trawler has become. What just a few months ago I had found to be so daunting was now second nature. Coming on the heels of a lifetime of sailing, I had been intimidated by power boating which in a very real way represented mastering boating anew. It was not a fact that I admitted openly to others but in many ways I was a neophyte and knew it. Now for the first time those insecurities seemed to fade, the Atlantic welcomed us with gentle arms, the rising sun flooded our way and we, Dream Quest and I, embraced the day.
As we cruised up the Hawk Channel, at a leisurely 7 knots, the Keys slowly slid by, Boca Chica, Saddlebunch, Cudjoe, Newfound Harbor, Big Pine, No Name, Bahia Honda, names to pique the imagination, steeped in history and intrigue, the refuges of long forgotten pirates and buccaneers. The light danced on the sea, Portuguese Man-of-Wars, their tentacles trailing akimbo, drifted by, dolphins came by to visit and played in the bow wake, gulls trailed our stern looking for unearned handouts, huge yachts bound for Key West passed close to, the temperature climbed to 86 degrees as a line of nimbo-cumulus clouds approached slowly from the north promising the possibility of the first rain in over a month, the breeze clocked to the south west, the forerunner of an approaching front. I felt more attuned to the voyage than ever, at one with my worthy vessel and the welcoming sea.
With the Seven Mile causeway bridge to our port, we approached the south tip of Vaca Key, home to arguably the safest port in all the Keys, Boot Key Harbor. It is a haven for hundreds of yachtsmen from the world over and despite the fact that there are over 300 mooring balls permanently installed by the city of Marathon, none were available. I dropped my anchor in a crowded corner of the harbor and headed for Keys Fisheries restaurant on the Gulf side of the island. I sat on the balcony of a second story thatched bar, watching the sunset, drinking Yuenling Beer and eating stone crab claws caught that day from Florida Bay, sprawling before me and dared to exhale.
Dolphins escorting Dream Quest in the bow wake.
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