Sea Sick (almost) Blues

The heat is over, at least for a while.  A cold front came in the late evening.  With it came wind and wave.  It was a great night's sleep.

The first few hours back at the boat a few days ago where kind of touch and go.  I spent what felt like half the day right on the verge of sea sick.  Ooops!  I thought I was over that stuff.  Well guess what, Bucky!  It don't work that way.

Working through it was about the only thing I could think of doing.  Keep busy, don't focus, spend time above deck, stay cool, eat something, drink something, watch the horizon.....all those things were running through my head while my stomach considered contraction.  I got the bucket ready.

Sitting in the companionway I watched the other boats moored around me dance to the wind and waves while mine played accompaniment.  This was not looking good. Sweat was pouring from my face and my knees where weak.  And I'm crewing on a club cruise this weekend.  Wonderful.

OK, let's eat.  What have I got to loose?  Pretzels, nuts, a banana, some ice water, hell, maybe a warm beer.  Or a shot of rum.  I'd already taken a couple of hits of smoke and some canned chilli over macaroni was sounding kind of good.  I looked at the ship's clock.  It was time for lunch.

Knoshing on some stale pretzels and sipping ice water I got the galley ready for boiling up some water for macaroni.  So far, so good.  Breakfast is staying where I put it and I'm feeling a little cooler now so maybe, just maybe........

Fifteen minutes later I'm fully engaged in making lunch, the chilli is over the macaroni, I have a warm Amber Bock in hand and life is wonderful.  My stomach has settled, my inner ears have readjusted to this particular reality, I've stopped sweating and the dirty dishes from cooking were in the bucket I had previously prepared for damage control.  Life is good.

Sitting in the cockpit with a bowl of chillimac and a beer, feeling the wind, listening to the sounds of a busy public harbor, watching the sports fishers, recreational boaters and the occasional sailing vessel or working boat go by I knew I was back home.  The joy of the water was back and I was feeling comfortable and at ease.

Partway through lunch I pick up the paper back I'd found in the club library, the third book in a series that I had started reading decades ago and a real treasure to find, and gave my renewed sea legs the ultimate test.  Five chapters later and regrettably out of beer I decided that it was time to get to the chores.  Captain Gary was back.

The main salon was a mess. Tools and parts and trash and clothing and all the little things that get moved around and forgotten when you find yourself living in two places took up every horizontal space.  Maybe it was depression, maybe it was being in a hurry, maybe it was just plain sloth, it still had to be cleaned up.

First, all the tools were taken off of the chart table and put on the footboards near their home below the quarter berth.  Last sail in the Gulf had cost me some repair time with a chainplate mount.  The tools and cuttings from this repair were all over the place.  I really need to stay on top of this kind of thing but I truly am a slob.  Mess and chaos doesn't bother me much so long as I can get to the work spaces to cook, clean and sleep.

The chainplate mount gave up during a close haul near marker one in John's Pass.  That's about a mile off shore.  I has pushing the boat and myself when I heard something go BANG below deck and the sails got kind of loose.  My first reaction turned out to be the best one somehow.  I released the sails and let the boat head up wind on her own and ran below to look for damage.  I got lucky.

The port side chainplate had moved about a quarter of an inch in an attempt to pull out of the half inch plywood it was mounted in.  Too much more under strain and I could loose the mast.  If that happened I would be better off to open up the thru hulls and let her sink.  It had already been a long day's sail, singlehanding from about ten AM to now, just before sunset.  This was going to be entertaining.

I don't need to check my fuel.  I knew for certain without looking that I don't have enough to make it from John's Pass to Gulfport using the ICW.  Motoring with a following sea on the Southbound leg of my sail was not something I wanted to think about.  She's a small boat with a tiny hiney and would want to roll a lot.  With an outboard that's not a fun thing.  Been there, done that with a couple of other guys on another boat.  We got wet a time or two.

The wind wasn't bad, five to 8 knots from the North, seas around three feet, so sailing back without stressing the mast was possible.  "Coming about!  Set sail light for home, boys!  We'll follow the shore and take our own sweet time about it."

As the sun set I watched the shore line.  All along the shore were small, bright flashes, marking the positions of tourists as they took pretty pictures of nice sailboat in the sunset on the Gulf.  I'm sure they thought it was quite the tableau.  All the right elements for a romantic composition.  Sailboat, Sunset, Gulf of Mexico, a smattering of clouds and sea birds..........

So, there I was, crippled and sweating out each gust of wind, doing my best to get home intact and floating while Canadians took my picture to share with the grand kids back home, eh?  I opened another beer and enjoyed the moment.  Even if I sink the boat, what an adventure!  This is what I'm here for.  This is the life.

Two hours later it's full dark and I'm in North Pass by Shell Key searching for the channel markers and wondering why my spot light isn't picking them up.  I have to come in now as the tide is with me, adding a couple of knots to my speed.  I could have anchored out in the Gulf in twelve feet and waited for the morning, but that decision nexus had already passed me by.  I was committed to the pass and the sound of breakers was getting louder and..........

I'm aground and now I can see the shore to starboard and channel markers half a mile to my port.  This is another fine mess you've gotten us into, Ollie!  Think!  Now what?  Tide's coming in, it's a sandy bottom the motor runs........  I gave it about half an hour just sitting there pivoting on the keel and then started the outboard.  Timing the waves I inched the boat off the sand, one bump at a time while keeping the sails close hauled and the boat healed over.  After about an hour of this we're free and heading for the channel.

The draw bridges are on demand after nine PM so I called ahead to Structure C and requested an opening.  After several calls I wondered if there was anyone home.  Finally I get an answer from the bridge but not the one I wanted.  He says he can't see me.  I know my running lights are working so I'm confused for a moment and then I remember that my steaming light doesn't work.

I take out the spot light and shine up the bridge house.  Can you see me now?  My guess is he was catching a nap and I was blowing his beauty sleep.  He opens the bridge and I make it through without hitting anything and now I'm in the home stretch.  Go to the first marker and turn right and.........

I'm aground again.  I missread the marker.  I'm also still in view of the bridge tender.  I'm thinking of renaming the boat "For Sale".  I think for a moment and come to a conclusion.  The tide is still coming in, I'm not aground hard, I'm hungry, there's more beer below and I could use another hit of smoke.  Dinner!  A can of soup, a burrito wrap and two beers later and I'm off the shoal and headed for home.

Half an hour later and I'm setting the anchor.  It's good to be home.

Two months later and the chainplate repair is done, a new mainsail is on order (I had put my hand through the old one taking it off.  Guess it was rotten) and here I am, back from several out of town shows with the band and house/dog/bird sitting for a friend and the boat is a mess and I'm fighting sea sickness and life is good.

The club is doing an overnight cruise to some place South of Sarasota and I'm going as crew on a larger boat with some of the friends I've made here at the club.  This is a good place and I feel right at home.  More about that later.  This time I just wanted to write this little story, catch up a little and let y'all know that I'm still alive and well, living the life and living life.

Now it's time to do a little shopping, get some lunch, and clean up.  This cruise promises to be fun.  At least this time we won't be racing and trying to break the mast.


No one gets out of here alive, so live it like ya mean it.