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Wednesday, October 24, 2007Our overnight trip We've only slept at anchor a few times, and only at events like the BEER cruise and the Redneck Riviera. Never in Louisiana, and never alone. Well, it was time to set new precedents, so we set sail this weekend to sleep in the marshes that line Vermilion Bay. We were careful to pack everything we could possibly need, including wine and scotch. We had the GPS, camera, cell phone, everything... except propane!!! I realized I had forgotten the all-important fuel only after arriving at the boat. No propane meant no morning coffee. All our food was intended to be eaten cold (cold cuts, cheeses, fruit, bread), but coffee grounds need hot water, and I need coffee. Oh well, no point dwelling on what we don't have. We set sail knowing it would mean a Sunday morning with no coffee (Laura, are you reading this?). We headed for a spot with some camps on the north shore of the bay. There are no roads there, and the camps were built with materials delivered by boat. We figured it would be safe to be near a spot of civilization, if only a dozen remote camps. As we headed for the target, we found that it would mean sailing an uncomfortable run, so we opted to aim for a channel upwind of the camps, then take the Intracoastal down to where we wanted to be.
As we approached the channel, I kept Janice informed of our ETA. We were sailing four knots, and the channel was four miles away, so we'd be there in an hour. Then, by the time we were three miles away, the wind had dropped, and we were sailing three knots. So we'd be there in an hour. Then when we were two miles away... You guessed it, all we could squeeze out was two knots. Just one hour away. No matter how close we got, the channel remained an hour away. An hour later The motor had been giving us trouble lately, so I had to keep my hand on the throttle to play it so it wouldn't die. Well, it died anyway. Then wouldn't start. And of course, there were plenty of witnesses to see me struggle with trying to fire it up again. Apparently the entrance to the channel is quite a fishing Mecca. There were a dozen boats there. I pulled and pulled at the cord, with no success. I'm so sick of that motor! I knew that there wasn't enough wind to get us down the channel, so we tacked away. Now we had troubles. We were too far from home to sail back, and there wasn't enough wind to get us into an anchorage. We tacked away and considered our options. It was looking like we'd be spending our night in open water, so we headed toward the smallest open water we could find, the south end of Weeks Bay. As we sailed and fretted, the wind began to pick up. In a little while it was blowing pretty good, and we headed for the next channel up the bay (there are lots of channels connecting the bay to the Intracoastal). After an hour, we were approaching another channel that looked like it was pretty quiet. The wind was in our favor, so we sailed down the markers (on the upwind side, per Charlie's advice at a previous BEER cruise), and made it to the channel. By now it was pretty windy, but not in the channel. The 12-foot-tall reeds were so thick that they blocked every hint of wind. We could hear the wind on the reeds, and in the bay, but we were quickly coming to a stop. I had already sent Janice forward to set up the anchor rode, and she dropped the hook when I gave the word.
So here we were, in the middle of nowhere, with no motor. I remembered that I left my cell phone at home, because Janice had brought hers. Well, she never programmed anybody's numbers into her phone, so our SOS options were limited. The original plan was to kick back and read and draw, and enjoy the evening on the water. This plan had changed to pull the motor into the cockpit, try to fix whatever was wrong, drink some scotch and talk about why we never bought a gun. Speaking of guns, shortly after anchoring we heard a gunshot nearby. Just what we needed. Bullets zip right through reeds, and the hunters can't see us, so I blasted my air horn once to let them know there were people around. Then I heard a second shot and a squealing pig. It was apparently the beginning of wild pig season. Their mission accomplished, the hunters' guns were silent for the rest of the night. I cleaned the carb, and decided to change the spark plug, just in case it was a contributing factor. I'm really glad I didn't buy a 9HP motor, because I'd never be able to haul it into the boat. I'm NOT glad I bought this motor. It's been a series of headaches.
Well, I'm thinking the new plug was the cure I needed, because the motor fired right up, and I put it in reverse gear and pulled hard to test it. Now the motor was a go, and the anchor was set. The rest of the story was uneventful. We ate, slept, looked at stars and sailed back in the morning. I even got back in time to have a cup of coffee in the marina! Archives11/01/2001 - 12/01/2001 12/01/2001 - 01/01/2002 01/01/2002 - 02/01/2002 02/01/2002 - 03/01/2002 03/01/2002 - 04/01/2002 09/01/2002 - 10/01/2002 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008 |
, we arrived at the channel markers. Time to fire up the outboard. I had wanted to sail down the channel, but the wind had died to nothing, so I needed the maneuverability the outboard could provide. 
