While in St Petersburg earlier this year, we noticed a boat on our dock that sported a long row of flag decals running along the hull just below the toe rail. Did they represent places the boat had been, we wondered? It would have had to be one well-traveled boat to have hit all those countries though, because most were European nations. and quite a few were landlocked countries. It sparked our interest.
Encountering the owners one day, we asked about the flags. It turned out that they owned a travel agency, and the flags represented the countries they had visited in the course of their business-related travels.
But they weren’t places they had actually sailed to.
It started us thinking though. How cool would it be to begin collecting and displaying the flags of the places we’d sailed our boat to! A quick online searchturned up Flag Sticker Shop, which offers affordable and easy to apply UV resistant flag stickers for most countries. We decided our criteria would be that we’d display flags for the countries we had actually sailed our boat to, in the order in which we visited them.
So now Eagle Too has a little bling to show off. We think she wears them really well. I wonder how many more flags we might be ordering in the years ahead? We have room for quite a few!
You can always tell a boat that has spent time traveling on the Intracoastal Waterway by its unsightly brown bow stain. The tannins given off by the mangroves and decaying vegetation along the canals turns the water in the ICW a murky brown, and the stain it leaves on your boat develops so fast that we never bother trying to keep our bow clean while we’re actively cruising. It would take a daily wash and wax to keep the stain from forming, and who’s got time for that. But removing this ugly brown stain from our bow is one of the first things we try to tackle when we return home for hurricane season.
Before
The usual boat soap, water and a scrub brush won’t touch this discoloration. Even so-called super cleaners like Amazing Roll Off that brag about their deep cleaning ability won’t phase it. In the past, we’ve had to resort to a product called Mary Kate’s On and Off to remove our bow stain. But On and Off is basically muriatic acid, and it’s a real hazard to use. Forget to wear your rubber gloves or fail to rinse it off your leg when you spill some and you can be looking at some nasty chemical burns. It’s pretty unpleasant to inhale it, and safety glasses are a must to protect your eyes from splashes.
But we heard a tip recently that seemed so good that we thought it couldn’t possibly be true. We were told that simple lemon juice would wipe that stain right off. At only a couple of bucks for a quart bottle, we thought it was worth a shot.
Here’s a three word review of our results: best idea ever! The lemon juice cleaned off the stain better than anything we’ve ever tried. I poured some into a trigger sprayer, and then I just sat in the dinghy and wiped the hull with a wet sponge, sprayed on the lemon juice, let it set a few minutes to work, and then wiped the hull clean. No concern about accidentally getting some on me, no worry about accidently splashing some in my eyes, no need to have to use rubber gloves and a scrub brush. Cheap, effective, and environmentally friendly. It even made the boat smell good!
After
I wish someone had mentioned this to us years ago.
In the past, returning to the United States meant we’d have to pay a visit to our friendly neighborhood Customs and Border Protection office to clear back into the country. It was never a convenient thing to do, because we’d usually be at the Navy marina in Boca Chica or at Boot Key Harbor up in Marathon and have to rent or borrow a car to go to the CBP office in Key West. I’d started the process once to enroll in the Small Vessel Reporting System or SVRS, which could have theoretically let us clear in with a phone call, but I never got around to finishing. I guess having to make an annual trek to Customs upon our return to the US wasn’t enough of a hardship to push me to finish submitting the paperwork and scheduling the in-person interviews necessary to enroll in SVRS. Well as it turns out, that will no longer be necessary. While we were off enjoying ourselves in the Bahamas this past Spring, CBP apparently rolled out their new Reporting Offsite Arrival – Mobile, or ROAM, app.
Our friends Mike and Jen on S/V Sanitas first told us about it, and then Deb and TJ on S/V Kintala filled in the details for us. While sitting on a mooring in Boot Key Harbor one morning, I downloaded the CBP ROAM app from the Google Play Store and installed it on my Samsung tablet. After entering our personal details, it prompted me to use the app’s camera feature to snap pictures of both our passports and upload them. Next I entered our vessel details. I’m pretty sure the personal and vessel info is a one-time entry, as it appears to save the information to your ROAM account. Finally, I answered a few quick questions about our recent travel and where we were returning from and clicked submit. A moment later, the app requested permission to open a video chat. A smiling Customs agent then appeared on my screen, confirmed that I was Robert, and then asked me to show him Rhonda. I pointed the tablet at her, she smiled and waved, the Customs agent thanked us, and we were done. A moment later it notified me that we were cleared back into the US.
From start to finish, it took about a half hour to get everything set up. I thought I’d hit a speed bump when I learned I needed to purchase an annual Customs border crossing decal for our boat, because I had to input the decal number as part of our vessel information. But the ROAM app launched me out to the appropriate website so that I could order the decal, and then let me use the order confirmation number to complete the vessel info.
My intention when I downloaded the app was to just set it up and explore it a bit. I wasn’t expecting to suddenly be video chatting with a CBP agent. I didn’t even have a shirt on! Apparently using ROAM, you can clear into the country in your pajamas or underwear if you wish to.
The app does say that this is a limited release and not currently available for use at all ports of entry. It’s apparently in an advanced Beta stage, with CBP planning to eventually roll it out for use nation wide. For now though, it supports Customs clearance through all Florida ports of entry, so it’s now the primary means to clear in if you’re returning from the Bahamas or points south via Florida.
One thing I’ve learned is that sometimes procrastination does pay. ROAM replaces the SVRS, which means if I had bothered to jump through those hoops, it would have just been time wasted.
During our final night passage on our return trip to Pensacola, in order to reduce the anxiety caused by all the thunderstorms we encountered, we started playing a little game we called “I Can’t Wait To…” It worked like this. Rhonda and I would take turns saying, “I can’t wait to go to (blank) and have (blank).” We’d name one of our favorite restaurants in Pensacola and the meal we were most looking forward to having there. I guess it was partly a reflection of the fact that no matter the charms of the Bahamas, the cuisine leaves a lot to be desired. A few months of conch fritters, conch salad, cheeseburgers, French fries and baked macaroni and cheese, the most commonly available dishes in the islands, left us with some pretty severe food cravings.
Now you wouldn’t think that a little town like Pensacola would offer enough dining options to make the game interesting. But it actually lasted most of the night. When either of us would name a restaurant and meal, we’d both go “Mmmmm,” and then mentally savor the food for a period of time. Sometimes the other person would continue the game after just a few minutes. Other times 15 or 20 minutes would silently pass before the next submission. But regardless, it kept a smile on our faces all through the night, during some pretty unpleasant conditions.
We’ve only been back in town a little over 48 hours, but we’ve already checked three spots off our “I can’t wait to…” list. For lunch the first day, we went to the Oar House for their excellent fresh shrimp baskets. Last night, which was Gallery Night in Pensacola, the monthly downtown street festival, we hit the Sonny’s BBQ food truck for some savory pulled pork. And this morning, we made the hike up to Polonza Bistro for their weekend brunch and some of their excellent Cervantes frittatas.
One with grits and toast, and one with potatoes and a biscuit, please!
We’ll have to start pacing ourselves. At this rate, we’ll complete the entire night’s list in just a few weeks! #It’sGreatToBeHome
Two thousand seventy-nine nautical miles traveled. Three hundred thirty-four hours spent motoring. Two hundred twenty-three gallons of diesel fuel burned. Six hundred gallons of seawater turned into fresh water for drinking, cooking, bathing. Over a dozen islands, Keys and Cays visited. A mainsail repair, a broken topping lift, a deflated dinghy air deck. And of course, a shattered kneecap. But on June 15th at 9:20 AM, we tied up to the fuel dock at Palafox Pier & Yacht Harbor in Pensacola, Florida, and our 2017/2018 cruising season officially drew to a close.
It’s been a hell of a season. We made new friends, faced new challenges, visited new places, took thousands of pictures and created some wonderful memories. But for the next four or five months, we’ll be waiting out the bulk of hurricane season here in our hometown. The time won’t be idle. After over seven months away, Eagle Too is dirty and a little tired. We’ll be spending a lot of time in the weeks and months ahead cleaning, repairing, upgrading. Getting ready for our next season of cruising and whatever adventures life has in store for us.
Eagle Too and her crew have so far traveled over 6,500 nautical miles, with many more hopefully still to come. For those of you who have traveled with us on some or all of that journey, either in person or virtually via this blog, we’re glad to have you along and we hope we’ll stay connected in the future. While we may not be actively cruising over the next few months, we plan to try to write more about our cruising experiences and lessons and sharing useful info for those who may be preparing to follow in our wake. After all, it’s not pictures of pretty sunsets that prepare you for adventure, but hard information about what to expect and how others dealt with the unanticipated.
Has it been an easy seven months? Not at all. But I recently read a quote by Henry David Thoreau that spoke to me. It said, “There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy a freely vast horizon.” To me, the worst thing possible is a boring life. But if there’s one thing we can confidently say about this Life On The Hook™, it’s that while it is at times difficult, uncomfortable, even frightening, it is hardly ever boring. And the horizons it offers are truly vast.
That’s all for now. We’re going to take a few days to relax and decompress from some pretty harrowing, storm plagued ocean passages. If you find yourselves in the Pensacola area, please look us up. Till next time, Eagle Too out.
We’d never seen anything like it. We were comfortably motor sailing north along the Florida coast toward Clearwater Harbor in gentle swells and a light breeze when the wind began to strengthen. We’d been eyeing some approaching black clouds to our west for the past several hours, but the weather app on our phones predicted they would dissipate before reaching us. But when the wind starting gusting to 20 knots, I thought it would be prudent to roll up the sail.
Barely 10 minutes later, the wind starting gusting into the 30’s and the seas began to build. We held our course a while longer, but we were sideways to the gale. As the waves built past six feet, they started rolling the boat severely. We couldn’t continue taking them on our beam or we’d risk being rolled over.
“Turn her into the wind and hold her there!” I shouted to Rhonda at the helm. I had my hands full trying to rescue Eaglet, our dinghy, which we had been towing behind us. Gusts flirting with 40 knots had flipped it upside down, and it was plowing underwater like a giant sea anchor, dragging our speed down below 2 knots. I struggled to get it turned upright again, but the wind was just too much. The best I could do was pull Eaglet’s nose tight against our stern to reduce the immense drag.
It’s just a squall, it will be over in 10 or 15 minutes, we thought. But it didn’t relent. The seas built past 10 feet, and the wind held steady at 35 knots, gusting higher. For almost an hour Rhonda wrestled the helm to keep the boat pointed into the weather, while I fought to maintain my grip on our dinghy’s tow bridle. We were burying our bow into the huge waves and then rocketing upward at nearly 45 degrees before slamming down and plowing into the next approaching roller. The sea began disassembling our dinghy, sucking out the inflatable floor, which was now dragging behind. My hands started to cramp from clutching the bridle.
This was no squall. We didn’t know what it was. There was no lightning or thunder, and hardly any rain. Just an angry black sky and gale force winds that just went relentlessly on and on. For an hour our course had taken us directly offshore, out into the Gulf. That’s exactly where I didn’t want us to be heading. We had to turn the boat and make a run for it. Rhonda didn’t think she could do it. I couldn’t let go of the dinghy. And the wind and waves just kept coming.
We finally managed to get another line connected to Eaglet, which I was able to lead to one of our deck winches. This let us winch the flipped dinghy tightly against our stern, and freed me to take the wheel. With a hope and a prayer, I spun Eagle Too around and starting running downwind. We’d traveled far enough offshore that our course to Clearwater Harbor now put the wind and seas on our port quarter instead of directly on the beam. The rudder fought me with every passing wave, but the pounding stopped and I could hold the course, although the boat rolled deeply with each swell.
It took another hour to make the entrance channel, the winds and seas persisting. As we approached the coast, the shoaling water caused the swells to lift the boat and throw it surging forward. I struggled to maintain control to avoid the channel markers. But finally, after two hours, the wind began to relent. Thirty-five knots became 30, and then finally dropped back into the mid-20’s. We cleared the channel, passed under the bridges, and made the turn into Clearwater Harbor Marina, arriving safely at the dock. But Rhonda was shaking like a leaf, and our two hour survival struggle left us feeling like we’d been to war. Post Traumatic Storm Disorder set in, leaving us physically and emotionally drained.
Early that morning, it had seemed like a sensible plan. We had about 36 miles to cover, from Sarasota Bay to the Clearwater Municipal Marina, where we wanted to stage for our crossing of the northeastern Gulf to Apalachicola. The weather report called for winds of less than five knots and one foot seas. Rather than have to deal with a half dozen draw bridges in the ICW, it looked so much quicker to just head out the mouth of Tampa Bay and run north along the coast to Clearwater. We’d had several days of afternoon and evening squalls, but they passed in 15 minutes. I felt pretty sure we’d be safely docked before any weather built up, but if we were to encounter a squall, I thought we’d be better able to handle them offshore where we’d have room to maneuver, than within the narrow confines of the ICW. Nothing is more frustrating than having to mill around in circles for a half hour waiting for the next scheduled bridge opening while watching a squall approach.
But we hadn’t counted on encountering whatever in the hell it was that was waiting for us out there. Something that would turn a calm day and flat seas into two solid hours of gale force winds and huge breaking waves. Something that felt like we were tangled up in the heart of a tropical storm. Something that delivered the worst day we’ve ever experienced on the water, by far.
In retrospect, I guess we’d have been better off in the ICW. We’d have probably been blown out of the channel and driven aground. But it’s all mud and soft sand in this part of Florida, and that’s why we pay for SeaTow coverage, afterall.
But in the final analysis, nothing broke (we were able to put Eaglet back together), nobody got hurt (other than shaken nerves and a blow to our confidence), and we do have a good story to tell.
No pictures though. Unfortunately, we were just a little too busy to stop and take storm selfies. I’d say maybe next time, but we’re both sincerely hoping we’ll never see anything like that ever again. Ever.
