We pulled out of "The Wharf" Marina about 9:30 and motored through the Gulf Intra Coastal Waterway to get as close as possible to the pass into the Gulf. Our new-found friends at the marina had showed us their favorite anchorage on the chart and we headed straight for it. We arrived about lunch time and settled in for a leisurely afternoon of reading and boat chores. The sky was perfectly clear and the temperatures rose into the mid-eighties. I used the transom shower to rinse off with fresh water after I had stood on the ladder to bathe in the salt water.
One of the boat chores was to load the chart plotter with a waypoint for the entrance to Destin Harbor so that that we could navigate straight to it on Tuesday. Doing this in advance of Tuesday morning turned out to be a really good idea, which I will say more about in a minute.
We had another great meal from the cockpit grill. As were were cooking, we could see dolphins swimming between us and beautiful sunset behind the boat. Another beautiful day in paradise.
Back at "The Wharf" Marina, there had been a lot of discussion about the cold front that was approaching from the north. There was also a low pressure system in the southern gulf that was dumping rain on southern Florida. The forecast was for the weather to get ugly (gale force winds) on Wednesday, so we wanted to get to Destin to ride it out. The winds were forecasted to be moderate (10-15) out of the NNW on Tuesday, a perfect direction to sail east to Destin.
Well, in hindsight, I can tell you that weather forecasting here is no better than it is at home. The interplay between these two weather systems was hard to read, even by the experienced professionals. So, by now, you have probably figured out that Tuesday did not turn out at forecasted.
By the way, the reason that we have to venture out of the protected GICW into the Gulf is that there are three bridges too short for our mast. All three are charted at 49 feet and we need 52.
We got up before the sun to prep the boat for the trip in open water. We stored all breakable objects in secure holds. When I pulled up the anchor, I lashed it to to the boat instead of relying on the windlass tension to hold it. We ate a little breakfast as we motored in the east wind toward the ocean pass a mile ahead. As soon as we got to the buoys for the pass, the water got ugly. There were 3 to 5 foot swells that were rolling into the bay. I assumed that they were caused by the transition from deep water to shallow and that it would get batter when we got away from the mouth of the pass.
At about 7:30, one hour into this this 42-mile trip, we were 2 miles off shore and had turned due east toward Destin. The water was 70 feet deep and the wind was blowing straight at us at 15 knots. When was the wind going to shift to the north as forecasted? The question of the day.
I'm going to try hard to exadurate the next part of this story. I have been in some bad seas in my life. I have sailed in small craft warnings in the BVI and off the coast of Charleston. I have endured huge ocean swells that turn you green. I have never seen water like we saw on Tuesday. I have heard this term used by many mariners and now I understand it -- the waters were "confused." There was no pattern to the roughness, only mayhem. Some waves fell off so sharply after we crested them that the boat would fall off the back side and crash into the trough below. Then the next wave would be from another angle to rock the boat sideway. It was like watching a rubber duck in a washing machine.
So, you are probably wondering, why didn't we turn around? Several reasons. One, the damn forecast said the wind direction was going to turn in our favor. Second, I was motoring into the waves at a manageable, albeit uncomfortable, angle and I wasn't sure what it might be like if these waves were hitting us from the stern. I watched the chart plotter "speed over ground" reading and were were averaging 4 knots --five in the better periods and three when the boat would fall off a wave and crash. So, unless it got worse, I knew we had fuel and daylight to make Destin, the only harbor for a long way.
So, we just slogged it out. Neither of could eat anything. We concentrated on staying hydrated. We listened to the weather radio and the forecast continued to say the winds would change. They never did. And we heard that one of the weather buoys not far from us was reporting 9-foot swells. For nine hours, we watched the chart plotter slowly tick off our progress toward Destin. At one point, Barry went below to replenish our water and tea and I was truly afraid that he might get thrown around and break an arm or a leg. He managed not to do that, although it may be Christmas before his bruises heal. He reported that all of our preparations had paid off and that nothing was broken below.
About noon, the wind did die down to 8-10 knots (incessantly from the east) and this improved out condition a little. The boat didn't crash as often and our SOG (satellite measured speed over ground) improved by a few tenths of a knot. But I was still worried because I knew what was ahead -- Destin Pass. I had been in this pass in a small powerboat a few summers before. On a very nice summer day, this narrow pass scared the hell out of me. The water is always rough, the pass is shallow, and the boat traffic is intense. The only good news for us today was there was no boat traffic. No other fools were out in this stuff.
When we got to the entrance buoy, I turned the boat north and could scarcely believe what I saw ahead. On either side of the next pair of entrance buoys, there were 12-foot breakers rolling over the shallows. In the center, where I was headed, they weren't breaking but they were the same height. I asked Barry to get out the boards that close the companionway so that the boat wouldn't fill up with water if we got hit by a wave from the rear. I looked at the tachometer of the little Yanmar and said, "don't fail me now." Right as we split the buoys, one of the monster swells lifted us and to my great relief I was able to keep the boat pointed in the general direction we wanted to go. I could see calmer water ahead.
In a very short distance, the waters calmed and now all I had to worry about finding deep enough water to get into Destin Harbor. There had been dock rumors in Orange Beach about shoaling in this narrow entrance so I was thrilled when the depth sounder showed 9 feet or more all the way in. We were on a rising tide so I figured even if we ran aground we would float off shortly and I was just glad to be out of the washing machine.
We proceeded to the Destin Yacht Club, where my friend Richard had arranged for us to be his guest. He has a 40-foot slip in this marina and the dock master welcomed us and helps get tied up. Ten minutes later, Barry's friends from Memphis showed up to transport him to a beach house they had rented for the week. They invited me to go along and I jumped at the chance to use a land shower and wash my laundry.
So, all's well that ends well, but I learned that I'm not venturing out in the Gulf unless the weather forecast is perfect. That might mean I have to sit still for a few days, but that will have to be O.K.
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