Today was the day. This would be our longest travel day, approximately 22 hours underway. We would be running mostly at night, and across the open ocean in the Gulf of Mexico. Why were we going to do this at night? It is crab season at our destination, Tarpon Springs, and so the coastal waters will be full of crab pots. These are marked with small floats, about the size of a volleyball, which are tied to each crab pot by rope. We don't want to hit any of these things because of the danger of fouling our prop in the rope. Our slower boat speed meant that the crossing could not be done during daylight only, and we needed to arrive at Tarpon Springs when we can see the floats in good light. An overnight crossing therefore has to be carefully timed, so that we would arrive after 10:00 in the morning to avoid the glare of the sunrise over the water. Using our course, distance and boat speed, this meant we had to be at the red R2 marker off Dog island at 17:00 to start "the crossing". Since we would not leave the dock to travel to the R2 marker until 13:00, we could sleep in. So of course we didn't. We were up at the usual time, well before sunrise.
Sunrise in Apalachicola. Shortly after sunrise we started hearing shotguns. The town was beside a large swamp, and it appeared to be duck season. Reminded us of weekends at Kilmarnock lock station on the Rideau. Early morning, when we stayed there in the fall, we would hear shotguns.
We went for dinner the night before and saw this store with an amusing name.
Breakfast from the drive-through. This small store front opened just for breakfast and there was a steady stream of cars stopping by to pick up their coffee and biscuit sandwich.
Hemingway cat. Rich said these things are all over Florida, they have 6 toes.
Christmas tree in Florida.
Louise's toe is getting better. I think.
There was a group of brightly painted houseboats beside the marina. Interesting neighbourhood.
Self-explanatory.
First order of business was checking the weather. I went through all my weather and wind apps to make sure our window was still open. I then put the finishing touches on our float plan and sent it to my sister Ruth so someone would know where we are going just in case. I then entered all our waypoints into the GPS, and set up our course for the night. Louise made some sandwiches for us to eat while we were underway through the night, and I also spent some time in the engine room checking as many things as I could think of. Then we went through the boat and secured everything in case we ran into any rocky conditions.
Rich and I then compared notes, weather, routing, tides, wave heights, and we came to the same conclusion - conditions were very good for the crossing and we were GO!
Our route from Apalachicola to the start of the overnight run at the R2 marker outside Dog island. We had to follow a narrow dredged channel through the bay. Although the area is really large, it is also really shallow, and the recent hurricanes have caused shoaling, so we had to be careful to follow the marked channel. This trip took us about 3 hours.
This is our straight-line run across the Gulf of Mexico. The route was 131 nautical miles, and we would be doing pretty much all of it at night. The pink triangle we cross through is a rocket capsule recovery area. We had to do a couple of jogs to avoid fish traps, artificial reefs, and oyster farms.
We then set in to wait.
Waiting sucks. We were nervous about the crossing, which made it worse. It was a bit like game day, you are nervous about how you will play until you start the game. Rich and I took his scooters over to the marina down the road to see if we could get some local info. Someone had posted about an obstruction in the channel on the way out of the harbour, and we wanted to see if we could get some intel from some locals. No luck, so back to the boat. We triple-checked everything again, and made sure all was secure to get underway, then set in for more waiting.
Just before we unplugged, Louise made a lot of coffee and stored it in all our Yeti containers to keep warm. Our first cups were good, but by the end of the night we were drinking cold coffee.
Our original plan was to stay on the dock until 13:30 then depart for our jump-off point, but the marina manager contacted Louise to tell us they had a disabled boat coming in and that we would have to leave by 12:00. So we untied the lines, and moved over to the municipal face-dock to wait some more. As we were waiting, the final boat of our crossing flotilla arrived, so we were now all together and good to go.
13:42
We untied the lines and set off on our journey. A convoy of 8 boats all left together to cross the Gulf of Mexico. We started with a 3 hour tour (!) from Apalachicola to the R2 marker on the outside channel of the ICW near Dog island. We were apprehensive on the departure, as someone had posted on the looper forum of an obstruction in the channel near the R6 marker at Apalachicola. We could not confirm the account, but decided to follow the advice and stick to the right of the channel. Our first white-knuckle moment happened, as it was really shallow, but no issues and so on we went. Initially, we were third in line, but at the first turn, the crew of Stulie, who was in the lead, requested that an AIS-broadcasting boat take the lead. So, we passed Jewel and Stulie and became the lead boat of the flotilla.
Our fleet of boats setting out on the crossing. We were initially in a group of 8 leaving the marina, but some of the boats were travelling in other groups.
16:40
We arrived at the R2 buoy, about 20 minutes early, and immediately set off on our direct-line course over the Gulf. As we were approaching the marker, we could see a fleet of other looper boats arriving from Carrabelle. On the GPS we could see lots of AIS traces, more than 20, of looper boats all taking advantage of the weather window to do the crossing.
In the GPS route we were using, we had plotted waypoints at one-hour intervals. This would give us something to do as we went, would break up the trip into smaller pieces, and would give us an easy was to communicate our whereabouts to Ruth, who was our float-plan holder. So, we started the route and the countdown. 16:48 to our destination, 15.1 km to waypoint 1 (I am used to km so keep our GPS distance settings on km).
Most looper boats these days have AIS. Here, each boat-shaped icon is a looper boat transmitting on AIS. There would be over 20 boats crossing this night, grouped into several convoys. We all leave from the same place, so follow a very similar track across.
Our Gulf fleet just before sunset. We were now in the BIG water.
17:39
Sunset on the Gulf of Mexico. We did not see the green flash, but it was still pretty spectacular to see the sun set over the horizon on the ocean. It got really dark pretty fast after that, and so we began our crossing in the pitch-black. It was like driving in a coal-mine, you could see the edge of the boat, and that was it. The stars came out, and we began our study of the constellations rising and falling. Up until this point, we were all travelling in a line, fairly close to each other. I got on the VHF to ask the other boats to spread out a bit as we would lose our depth-perception in the dark. We all had radar, which we could use to track each other and maintain distance. Everyone checked the nav lights on each other's boats, and let each other know that we could see them. All night long, we would hold our formation, spread from each other by about 1 to 2 km. Just like the Blue Angels!
Sunset on the Gulf of Mexico. Time to go dark.
18:08
Rich on Jewel suggested that we check in by radio at regular intervals so we could keep track of each other. We were in the lead, so Louise and I went through a roll call on the VHF to check in with each boat in our group. Jewel, Thyme Away, Stulie, Silver Linings, Lizzie Lynn and Glorious Dei. For the rest of the night, Louise and I ran through the list at the top of the hour, checking in with each boat to make sure everyone was A-OK. Between this and our waypoint-tracking, this really helped us. It kept everyone awake, it kept everyone watching everyone else, and it helped to pass the time. We found ourselves looking forward to waypoint checks and roll call. Seemed like the hours passed faster this way.
18:52
We passed our second waypoint, and texted Ruth that we had done so. Shortly after this time, we don't know exactly when, our Starlink stopped working. We got a message that we were too far from land and the service was now suspended. We had no cell service either, so now had no non-VHF way to update anyone on land about our status. We have been in "dead zones" before, but this time it was a little unsettling as we had hoped to be able to update Ruth about our progress, and we were in the middle of the freakin ocean, so were a bit uneasy about being out of communication. Also, kind of annoying, since we had no internet, the thing upon which we have been accustomed to provide instant knowledge, and so no Netflix to pass the time.
Eevee kept wandering around the boat, she was not used to having hoomans moving about in the dark during cat hours, and she kept flopping under our feet. Had to pay close attention to where she was, and pay attention to slide our feet so we didn't step on her.
19:40
We hit something!
All of a sudden, the boat shuddered and then the engine exhaust became REALLY LOUD. At the same time, the whole boat vibrated. You could feel the thudding through our feet, like the boat was bouncing! The first thing through my head was that the engine was coming apart. It only lasted about 5 or 10 seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. When it was happening, I checked the engine gauges to see how the Big Cat was doing. During the "event", the needles never moved, not even the tach. Then, as quickly as it started, the noise and vibration stopped. The engine sounded normal, there were no vibrations, no warning lights. I went around the boat and checked all the bilges, and we were still high and dry. The boat continued to run as if nothing had ever happened. My eyes were glued to the needles for several minutes, but they stayed locked to their normal position. The Big Cat just purred along. Holy shite.
Louise thought we might have gotten a line in our prop, so she put on a life jacket and headset and went outside to check our decks and lines. Everything was fine, everything was secured. We have no idea what we hit. Our best guess, given the duration and the fact that it just seemed to put a big load on the engine, was that it was biological - we had chopped up some big weeds or a dolphin or something. But things were not the same for us after this. Both of us were now on full adrenaline rush, I am sure our eyes were as big as saucers. Although we had planned to take shifts driving the boat and sleeping, we now both agreed that we would both stay awake for the rest of the trip in case something else unexpected happened. Even if we wanted to, neither one of us could sleep after what we heard and felt during those 5 seconds, so we might as well roll with it and keep going. Luckily we had some practice staying awake overnight doing security shifts at the RYC. I had visions of walking the RYC docks at midnight, checking lines, boats and stars. But, I digress.
02:08
Moonrise. The crescent moon came up over the horizon. It was spectacular, looked like some kind of light show as it rose, red and cup-shaped over the horizon. As the moon continued to rise over the rest of the night, it slowly brightened to the point that we could see a bit of the water, and eventually even some of the waves ahead of the boat.
Moonrise over the Gulf. Initially it looked like some kind of big building, then resolved into the crescent moon. At the start of the crossing, someone got on the radio to tell us that moonrise would be at 01:26. Well, this time came and went. We found ourselves looking at the time and wishing for the moon to come out so we could maybe see something besides pitch black. When the moon finally made its appearance, it was worth the wait.
Louise and I were both running on adrenaline, cold coffee and determination at this point. I was afraid I would fall asleep sitting at the helm, so I walked around the boat, and spent a lot of time standing at the front looking at the water in the moonlight. Louise used flash to take this photo, in reality the boat was black, black, black.
04:13
Our GPS displays an ETA estimate that is constantly updated. It was now showing that we would arrive a bit too early to our destination. Not good, as an early arrival would make the crab pots difficult to see in the sun's glare. I got on the VHF to consult with Rich, and he had also noticed the same thing, so we reduced our RPM's slightly, and warned the rest of the group on VHF that we were doing so. Our ETA now showed us back on schedule and in the green.
05:04
Rocket launch! This weird orange fire-ball appeared on the horizon. Looked like some kind of flare-up or explosion. Rich got on the radio and told us it was a rocket launch! We watched it climb up, and the first stage separated before it disappeared over the horizon. Was amazing to watch in real life, it rose REALLY FAST and was super-bright. SO COOL! When it rolled, it kind of looked like it would overfly us, but of course rockets launch to the east, so this was just an illusion. Later, Angela of Lizzie Lynn got on the radio to tell everyone that it was a Space-X launch.
Space-X rocket launch!
Louise managed to also get a video of the launch.
07:02
Sunrise. For about 45 minutes, we watched a weird-looking cloud slowly brighten and change colours. As it got brighter, we realized that it was not a cloud, but the contrails left from the rocket launch. The shape and colour changes made for an almost religious experience. Then, at 07:02 the sun came up over the horizon. We had now watched a sunset and a sunrise over the ocean, with no land in sight. Other than the contrails, there was not a cloud in the sky, and the water was mirror smooth at this point. Shortly after sunrise, the wind picked up a bit, and we ran into small waves for the rest of the trip. A little choppy, but no big deal.
Sunrise rocket contrail. It doesn't get better than that.
Angela of Lizzie Lynn shot this video of the sunrise, which she sped up to create this effect.
As soon as it got bright enough to see, we moved to the flybridge to get a better view. Since the sun was now up, this meant we were close enough to land that we would now start seeing crab pots, and the flybridge would be the best vantage point for that. We have not driven from the flybridge in quite a while due to weather (cold) so this was nice to be able to feel the wind in our hair. It was a bit chilly at first so we had to wear hoodies, but by the time we were near the marina we were able to switch to T-shirts.
08:08
Our devices started working. Starlink and cell service came back to life, like we had returned to civilization from the wilderness. All of a sudden, Louise got a bunch of texts and emails, so she texted Ruth and a few other people that we were still floating and on schedule.
10:02
We passed the R4 marker off the coast of Tarpon Springs, ending our first-ever overnight crossing of the ocean. Our original plan was to use the entrance near the G1 marker at the south of Anclote island, but the sun was directly in our eyes on this route so we swung north and went to plan B by going around the north side of the island. Now we had to run the crab-pot minefield. They were everywhere. Each crab-pot was marked with a small ball, and they were all painted different colours. They were tricky to see in the morning sun. The boats of our group formed up into a line, close to each other, each one following the next boat as we zig-zagged our way through the channel towards the marina. Everyone was tired and sleep deprived by this time, and we were all running on raw nerves. Make it stop!
Approaching the R2 marker, Rich got on the radio to tell me to take it on the other side than where I was headed. He had watched a commercial boat go on that side, and figured we should use local knowledge to get the nav markers right. Really glad he did that and told us, as my brain was full of cobwebs and I was making mistakes at this point. This was the great thing about crossing in a group - we looked after each other.
11:05
We pulled into Anclote Village marina with Jewel, Stulie and Thyme Away (the other boats in our group had gone to other marinas). We congratulated each other on a successful crossing, then we all went to bed to get some much-needed sleep. At this point, Louise and I had been awake for 29 hours. Melanie had cooked some lunch, but I was too tired and went right to sleep. Louise went over to Jewel to get something to eat before she too crashed. We all got several hours of much needed sleep. What an adventure!
The crews each woke from their beauty sleep around 4 in the afternoon, and looked for a place to have dinner together. Turned out this area had been damaged by hurricane Helene, and nothing was open nearby. Rich suggested we order pizza. YES! We got some pizzas delivered and invited all the crews to the flybridge of iFloat to celebrate our crossing.
A toast to the Can-Am crews!
We all swapped stories about our crossing experiences while we ate our pizza and sipped our beverages. We had the bond of passing a shared challenge, and what a freakin awesome experience to have had as that challenge.
But we all agreed that we never want to do it again.
Boat name of the day:
Jewel, Thyme Away, Stulie, Silver Linings, Lizzie Lynn, Glorious Dei and iFloat
