Log of the Wild Goose

--Key West Odyssey--

May 31^st to June 6^th, 2001

William K. Spence

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This, my friends, is the S/V Wild Goose, also known as the

MAN BOAT!

Photo taken after return from Key West

You are the visitor since 12:01 AM, August 14th, 2003

 Questions or comments? Email me at WKSpence@Spenc.com

Thursday, June 31^st, 2001

  9:00AM   Setting: Tom Scott and I arrived in Key West two days ago aboard the Wild Goose and secured a slip at the Key West City Marina. Today is our last full day in Key West. There will be a crew change tomorrow. Tim Ball will be arriving late this afternoon to replace Tom Scott, who will head back to Pensacola in the morning. The trip down here was a series of misadventures that were accurately predicted by "Murphy’s law of unintended consequences." Basically, the trip down was six days of watching one thing after another go wrong. Tom Scott describes many of these misadventures in the comedy he calls “Log of the Man Boat.” (To read it, click on the “Log of the Wild Goose: Panama City to Key West” link on the Home page.)

Here are a couple of pictures of the Wild Goose out of water. This was our home and protection for two weeks.

The Wild Goose on jacks in Tibbets Boat Yard                                      

LOA: 45'8"                                                                                                   

Tom goes into Combat

4:00PM   Tom Scott is a self-described "Combat Shopper." He left about 9AM this morning and seven hours later he’s staggering back to the boat under a half-ton of shopping bags. I don't know why he is staggering, but within two minutes we are both laughing as Tom describes his shopping adventure. He's laughing, I'm laughing, and he's excited about the booty he bought. Life is good for a couple of would-be pirates!

Tom bought something for everyone he knows – and he knows everyone! He even bought a couple of items for me – a neat skull and crossbones headband and a "Conch Republic" flag for the Wild Goose. I put the headband on and look in the mirror, wishing for a black eye patch and a big knife to put between my teeth! I’m cool! Tom agrees! With the Conch Republic flag for the boat and pirate headgear, we even look like pirates. We do a few “ARE-AREs” and open a couple of beers, declaring that it’s time to do some serious sacking and pillaging. Obviously, we have recovered from our adventure at the Coconut Island anchorage four days earlier. Tom is a blast! I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard as I did that night. On the other hand, I don’t remember much about that night except that everything was funny! I do vaguely remember trying to get out of the anchorage the next morning – I couldn’t focus very well, probably because the sun was bright as we turned and headed west. I’ll miss Tom on the trip back.

Tim Ball Arrives

Tim Ball is scheduled to arrive around 5PM to make the return trip with me. He’s flying into Miami and will drive down to Key West. Tom will drive the car back to Miami tomorrow morning, catch a plane to Panama City, retrieve his car from the City Marina parking lot, and drive home to Pensacola.

Tim was with me on the ill-fated trip to the Bahamas on Jan 1^st, 1999 when we were caught in the "Perfect Storm." He understands the dangers of being a real sailor. They expect the worst and normally get it. During the Perfect Storm, Tim and I spent 24 straight hours getting pounded by waves, rain, wind, and being body slammed into everything on the boat. We were wet, tired, sleepy, cold, and bruised. Our butts were raw and we were hungry. Tim never complained nor seemed concerned once during the entire storm. After that episode, Tim knows that I attract bad weather. For some reason he’s still going to sail back to Panama City with me. It gives me some comfort to know he won’t quit if the going gets rough. It would be nice to have both Tom and Tim onboard during the trip back but having either one onboard is more that I could hope for. I’m lucky!

 5:30PM   Tim arrives in Key West and calls on the cell phone (a major advancement in pirate technology). He can’t find the marina. After about 30 minutes of incoherent directions from me, he sees most of Key West. Suddenly, by sheer accident, he spots me standing in a parking space in front of the marina. I may not be good at giving driving directions, but I did protect the parking space. No one would dare screw with anyone wearing skull and crossbones headgear. Tim parks and we carry the groceries and wine he brought back to the boat .I didn’t even know Tim drank wine, but he brought a lot of it! We leave the watermelon for later.

 Plundering Key West

After introductions and some pirate-worthy lying and tale telling, the three of us swagger out for dinner. Although Tim and Tom are smart, laid back, and reasonably handsome, I’m easily the best looking so I volunteer to be used as bait to attract  Key West women if necessary. They look skeptical but don’t say anything.

We walk all over the city as Tom points out all the shops he went into today. He didn’t miss much! We catch part of the sunset ceremony and watch some would-be sailors running lightweight scams on the waterfront. After an hour or so, we start looking for a suitable restaurant. We find Willy-T's. It has courtyard seating and a guitar player named Michael McCloud who does a pretty good imitation of Gordon Lightfoot and others of that period. I like his music. He mentions a special sale on his CDs -- either $10 per CD or two for $25. I jump on the $25 special and get two CDS of his Greatest Hits. Later, Tom notices that the CDs are titled Grettas Tits. Oh well, the music is still the same!

I order shrimp and scallops. Tim orders blackened Mahi Mahi but can’t finish it all. I take a bite of it! Oh my GOD! It is soooo GOOD! Mahi Mahi is solid white and may be the best tasting fish I’ve ever had. Tim says he will catch some for us on the way back. I believe him. Tom grins and glances at us but makes no comment.

On the way back to the Goose, Tom takes us by a store where he bought the skull and crossbones headband. He warns me that a couple of young Jewish guys run the place and they are smooth. I go in to get a couple of headbands for the grandkids. By the time I leave, I have two shirts and two pairs of shorts with Key West logos on them. One logo is almost under the armpit. Finally, after spending $80, I leave without a headband. These guys are good! I should have heeded Tom's warning.

My role as bait goes unnoticed by all the Key West women. I use the excuse that we saw no women worthy of attracting. We head back to the Goose. Before settling in for the night, we pack the self-destructing dinghy and its separated floorboard into its case and fill the onboard water tanks. Tim and I now have 100 gallons of fresh water to make it to the Venice Inlet. Tom stuffs as much of his booty as he can into his bags. He'll leave the rest onboard and I’ll drop it by his on my way back to Dallas.

Friday, June 1^st, 2001

5:30 AM   Time to leave. Tom is up early and ready to go. I carry the garbage and help Tom carry some things back to the car. We exchange pirate-type farewells and Tom is on his way. He doesn’t say so, but I know he really enjoyed the 100+ degrees days and the nights without sleep – especially the after-midnight hallucinations we had in the Tampa Bay channel. Tom is in a permanent good mood. I take the trash to the dumpster and go back to the boat.

6:15AM   After starting the engine, Tim and I start casting off. The tidal current starts pushing the boat sideways. Tim and I are not yet coordinated. When the starboard stern line is released, the boat quickly drifts into the slip next to us. Tim unties the last line and jumps onboard. We cleverly back out of the other slip at an angle so it looks like we planned it that way.

It’s still dark as we motor out of the marina into the channel where the cruise ships dock. Another sailboat, Cheers, left about 30 minutes ago. Tim promises that he can see the colors of the buoy lights. I trust him.

We motor for about an hour through the channel and make it to the northern entrance of the Key West Bight. By this time the sun is showing heat. We spot “Cheers” on the horizon about 3 or 4 miles ahead of us.

We have both the main and jib up while the engine runs at about 1,800 rpm. There is very little wind, maybe 5-8 knots, and we need the engine to make it to Isle of Capri Pass and our Coconut Island anchorage by dark. 

Tim Prepares to catch a big Mahi Mahi for dinner

Tim has decided that he will catch a big Mahi Mahi for dinner. He gets out a fishing rod, attaches a lure, and lets the lure out about a hundred feet. Shortly, we’ll be cleaning fish for dinner.

I'm excited about having Mahi Mahi for dinner tonight. I check the pantry. We have plenty of seasoning to blacken it. We watch the rod for an hour. Nothing happens.

It’s getting very hot and we’re suffering. Tim suggests that we rig a canopy to protect us from the sun. I agree. We have the mainsail up so we rig a canopy by using a poly line running from a reefing hook on the forward end of the boom to the backstay and stretching the silver tarp over it. By 10 AM it must be over 95 degrees. The canopy is doing its job but it’s still HOT out here. We’re getting sun from above and then as it is reflected from the water.

The big Mahi Mahi finally strikes

Suddenly, the fishing rod starts to bend and the line is streaming and screaming! Tim grabs it but after a few seconds the Mahi Mahi gets off by breaking the Kevlar leader. Wow! We conclude that it must have been a HUGE Mahi Mahi. We’re excited! Tim has them running now. He gets another lure. We watch the rod. Nothing happens.

We monitor the clouds to our east, hoping they will produce some wind. Nothing happens.

Suddenly, the rod bends again. Tim has another one on the line. It gets away also. This time the big Mahi Mahi rips the hook out of the lure. We are impressed with this Mahi Mahi. It’s just a matter of time now. We’ll definitely have Mahi Mahi for dinner tonight.

Tim decides to try the high tech, iridescent, green and yellow lure Tom left onboard. He lets it out and within thirty minutes he has caught a pound of seaweed. He re-rigs the poles for fish. Nothing happens.

The day continues like this. Hot, hot, Hotter. We are constantly drinking water. Tim cooks up a light lunch – peanut butter and peach jelly sandwiches. They taste great!

I am regularly checking our progress to see if we will make it to Coconut Island before dark. . It’s like a sauna down below so we don’t stay down below very long at a time. It looks like we will get there around 7:30PM—just before dark. So far! So good!

We pass Cheers about 9 AM and chat on the VHF for a couple of minutes. They’re going to anchor behind Coconut Island also but don’t expect to get there before dark. We see other boats heading north. All are powerboats except one. They’re flying; probably going about 30 knots but using 20 to 30 times as much fuel as we are. We’re using less than a gallon an hour. We silently wish for a powerboat. Screw the fuel!

Another sailboat appears off our stern and is gaining on us. He’s not as long as we are but he’s gaining. How’s he doing that? He passes us about 4 hours after we first see him. He must be running his engine hard since he is carrying less sail than we are. We’re still running about 1,800 RPM. Tim reads his book. God, it’s HOT!

Tim finally takes down his high tech Mahi Mahi catching system. He was using two rods, one with the homemade spoon lure and one and the high tech lure. Tim finds that the Mahi Mahi tore the tail off the high tech lure. The homemade spoon shows no sign of being attacked by a fish.

Coconut Island sighted

7:00PM   As we start into the channel toward Coconut Island, we take our sails down so we can concentrate on staying in the channel. Tim is cool. The rule is “Red on the right returning” and Tim can spot colors from a mile away. It must be great to be able to see the colors but I wouldn’t know. I can see the buoys fine, but they’re all the same color.

Coconut Island. The low spit of land shown here is the island. This island is hard to spot at dusk, but pretty easy to run into.

Tom and I anchored here about five days ago and I know that we must go in close to the island. I’m confident, but anxious because the channel is so shallow. As we motor through the channel, the depth meter shows 1 to 4 feet under the keel. We‘re coming in fast with a rising tide. Should be about ¾ high tide at 7:30PM. This is good.

Coconut Island is small and low and very hard to distinguish from the land behind it. It’s now dusk and Tim asks where the island is. I point it out, but neither of us can visually separate it from the land behind it. For all practical purposes, the island has vanished.

Hard aground

We get closer to the split channel marker (G “11”) and suddenly I see the depth meter showing 2 ft  . . . then 1 ft under the keel.  I put the Goose in reverse and my heart rate jumps to 150. I’m trying to figure out which way to go. We’ve already bumped the bottom once and my heart is pumping fast.

Dead Center of this photo is channel marker G "9" -- you can barely see the sand at the center, left side of this photo. We should have come to the right of this marker, but saw the split channel marker located near the land behind the shrouds. Taking "G-9" on our starboard insured that we would run aground. The entrance to this anchorage is very deceptive. We were the third boat grounded here this evening.

Tim identifies a green marker ahead. I know that we must go to the right of it, but as I turn to starboard, the depth meter hits 0 and we feel the keel sliding onto the sand about 75 feet short of the green marker. I jam the Goose into reverse again and rev the engine – 3,000 rpm. Water is boiling forward from the reverse thrust. After a minute or so, the engine is getting hot but we aren’t backing off the sand. We bump a little but the tide is rushing in, holding her on the sand bar. I turn to the right and try to go forward. This doesn’t’ work either. I continue to try to get ungrounded for about 15 minutes without any success. Although the engine is getting hot, I can’t shut it off because are we will be pushed further aground by the incoming tide. I back the engine down to about 1,800 RPM and the temperature begins to drop.

Rescued by TowBoat U.S.

Since the bottom is out of the dinghy we can’t use it to row an anchor out to pull us off of the sandbar. I decide to call TowBoat US and get them to pull us off the sandbar. I locate my “unlimited towing” insurance number and give it to them. They call to verify it and are on the way. Once they get close, I’m in contact with the skipper on the VHF. When captain Cook ran into some coral heads off the coast of Australia, they didn’t have towing insurance so they had to throw supplies overboard to lighten the ship. However, I have insurance and I’m using it!

I tell the Towboat US skipper that we want to go to the anchorage about 100 yards away. He circles the boat a few times (probably reading his depth sounder) and then gives us a line to attach to our bow. He gently pulls us to our starboard and tows us back to another green marker, G ”9,” that is very close to Coconut Island. This is the G “9” marker we should have taken on our port side as we came in. It was so close to the shore that we didn’t even see it.

Ungrounded

We can’t even feel the boat slide off the sand so we must have been very close to the channel. Once in the anchorage, Tim releases the anchor and, when the chain hangs up below, he quickly overcomes the problem. Good job Tim! We’re anchored safely in 15 feet of water.

Coconut Island Anchorage looking south. We're anchored in 15 ft of water. Large, beautiful homes on the mainland.

The Towboat US guy comes up beside us and gets me to sign the invoice. The total is $365 for ungrounding and his travel time. I comment that I should have known that the other buoy was there. He tells me I’m the third person he has pulled off of that sandbar this evening. This is a racket -- but I’ve got racket insurance.

Tim cooks up something for dinner. After eating and lamenting that we don’t have Mahi Mahi for dinner, we rinse off and settle in for the night. Cheers arrives after dark and we chat for a few minutes over the VHF.

Tim has an ideal disposition for sailing—calm, intelligent, and willing to do whatever is necessary to make the passage comfortable. Although he didn’t catch any fish today, I’m confident he will catch some tomorrow. We head for Boca Grande pass and Charlotte harbor in the morning.

An observation

I’ve noticed that neither Tom nor Tim get anxiety attacks like I do when we come close to running aground. The fact that I’m married to the Goose and they’re just having an affair with her may be a factor here.

Saturday, June 2^nd, 2001

No rush today. We take our time getting up and have an exciting breakfast of something. Fruit, I think. We weigh anchor and carefully motor out into the channel. My heart is pounding as the keel moves within a foot of the bottom. This is a great anchorage once you’re in it, but getting in and out is hard on my heart muscle.

First mate Tim and I conclude that the main isn’t doing us much good. Besides, the main is hard to raise and keeps us from rigging the canopy over the boom. Nevertheless, we put it up again after we get out in the channel. We’re pretty coordinated with the jib now and can also take the main down without much problem.

Procedure for raising and lowering the jib

When putting the jib up, Tim heads the boat into the wind and when it starts luffing, I yank the jib as high as I can. I keep pulling the halyard until it stops. Then, I use the winch to tighten it. Tim keeps the boat into the wind during this time. It takes us less than three or four minutes to get the jib full and pulling. When taking the jib down, Tim heads the boat into the wind. When it luffs, I turn the halyard loose and the jib drops like a rock to the deck. I throw my body over it and tie it down before it gets blown over the side. This works well most of the time. We haven’t tried it in heavy winds or rough seas and don’t want to. I did that during our sail in the Perfect Storm and it wasn’t fun – water was coming over the bow as I threw myself onto the jib.

Procedure for raising the main

We do roughly the same thing with the main as we do with the jib. First, we both remove the tie downs (about six or seven). Tim then heads the boat into the wind. I crank the main up while the sail is luffing. Tim is getting good at holding it into the wind. The engine needs to keep us moving at more than 3 knots to keep our bow into the wind. We’re getting better.

Procedure for lowering the main

Taking the main down is a bit more complicated and requires both of us. To take it down, we tighten the lazy jacks and Tim heads the Goose into the wind. Once the main is luffing, Tim engages the autopilot. I uncleat the main halyard as Tim comes up to the port side of the mast. I begin to let the main down carefully. As it drops, Tim pushes a section over to my side of the boom, saying “yours!’ and then pulls a section to his side of the boom. I pull my side out and release the halyard a couple of feet, letting the main drop further. We’re getting pretty good at this, but the main is so big that it’s still hard. After flaking the main, we join forces and tie it to the boom. This process takes 10 minutes or more.

Note regarding sail size

I haven't mentioned it to Tom or Tim, but the square footage of the main and fore triangle on the Goose is half the size of an America’s Cup boat. They have 12 members in their crew. There are two of us.  We can handle the sails, but in windy conditions it can get dicey – especially with the main. The sails are so powerful that we could get hurt in heavy winds or seas.  Worse, we might get the main up and be unable to get it down in a strong wind (maybe as little as 20-25 knots if the seas are rough), as happened in our “Perfect Storm" of Jan 1, 1999.

 Back to the trip

With the main and jib up and drawing, we put the canopy up and settle in to catch some Mahi Mahi. I watch as Tim expertly sets the rods with the lures. Nothing happens.

It’s hot today. Not much wind so we keep the motor running. We move at about 6 knots.

Tim catches some more seaweed. Mahi Mahi may not be on the menu tonight but Tim doesn’t give up easily. He resets the rods and we watch them. Nothing happens.

4:00PM   We have the Boca Grande channel in sight and should be anchored by 5:30PM.

Tim spots the red marker at the entrance to the channel when we’re about 5 miles out from Charlotte Harbor. Tim can easily ntell what color a buoy is from a mile or more away. We take the sails down using the procedure described earlier and motor into the channel. We take the red buoys close to our starboard beam. Soon we see the fleet of boats in the channel close to the harbor entrance. There must be 200 powerboats – all fishing for Tarpon.

We motor slowly through the fleet. Giant Tarpon are being caught! They may be as big as the Mahi Mahi that got Tim’s lure. We see some Tarpon jumping out of the water. The fishermen are oblivious to us. This is a Tarpon fishing frenzy! Tim stands on the bow to warn me of impending collisions and makes small talk with the fishermen as we pass. Tim has empathy for those who haven’t caught a tarpon yet.

After negotiating our way through the fleet, we continue for another mile and turn north into Charlotte Harbor. It takes about thirty minutes to find a spot out of the channel with about two feet of water under the keel. Tim does his anchor trick and we’re set for the night.

The refugee boat

Tim and I notice that the Wild Goose does not look like a proper sailing yacht. We have a silver tarp over the cockpit, the sails down, and the main hanging sloppily over the boom. The tarp is barely above our heads. We have to duck to see out from under the tarp. Four five-gallon plastic diesel cans, all bright yellow, are tied to the stanchions. Tim says we look like a refugee boat. We’re anchored next to the island where President Bush has a retreat but since we don’t need to impress him we’ll wait until tomorrow morning to clean the boat up. If the Secret Service visits us we'll invite them to join our manly adventure.

Tim in his high tech sun protection gear.

I mention to Tim that we have some shrimp bait that Tom bought a couple of days ago. I get it out of the fridge (it’s double bagged) and Tim takes some of it and puts it on a hook. It smells horrible! He drops the hook to the bottom and within a minute something is nibbling on it. In five minutes something has taken the hook. Finally, something happens!

Tim pulls his hook up and finds he has caught a 6 oz catfish. 

We take a picture of it to send to Tom. Tim puts the fishing equipment up and throws the shrimp away. I wash the seats and the cockpit sole in case the shrimp got on them. Sadly, the little catfish has swallowed the hook.

Tim Ball Shows off his catch. He tries to convince me that this is a Mahi Mahi, but I'm not buying it!

We decide to get into the water and have some of the Boca Grande Grand Cuvee Pinot Noire wine that Tim brought onboard. We throw the life rings over and let the ladder down. Tim jumps in, puts the life ring around him and I hand him a glass of wine. He holds my glass while I climb down the ladder into the water. We hang on the life rings and drink our wine. Ecstasy! So far, this is the only fun we’ve had on this trip. As best I recall, we finish one of the two-liter bottles that Tim brought aboard. So far, this is the best part of trip. I think Tim agrees. We use some Joy to take a salt-water bath – a first for me (a Joy bath, that is.)! Then we rinse in fresh water onboard. This is a good way to end the day.

Tim cooks something for supper. He’s a good cook! I’m surprised! He dirties up a lot of dishes, but it’s worth it. I wash the dishes and clean up. The division of labor is established. Tim is the chef and I bus and wash dishes. It works just fine.

The temperature is nice tonight. We sleep well.

Monday, June 3^rd, 2001

6:00AM  The fishing boats are screaming by again. We tie the main up a little neater and put the cover on it. The boat looks like a yacht now. We clean up a few other things and put the tarp over the boom. This is much better. We have some headroom. Now, with the tarp, we look like an upper-class refugee boat.

We weigh anchor and motor back to the entrance to the channel. It is still filled with Tarpon fishermen. They are having a blast! It may take four hours to get a Tarpon into the boat – and then they release them. The boats are mostly fishing in a ½ mile stretch in the channel. In 15 minutes we’re clear of the fishing boats and headed out through the channel.

This will be a short sail today. I plot a course that will take us to Venice in a straight line, set the autopilot, and call the Crows Nest Marina. They will have a slip for us tonight. We’ll get there early enough to fill up with diesel and water before they close the marina. We can also get a nice meal at the Crows nest restaurant. It’s about the only restaurant in town and is always busy.

Tim is persistent
Undaunted by yesterday’s fishing experience, Tim rigs the fishing rod and tries again. No wonder that his company, AdMark, is successful. This guy never gives up! However, nothing happens.

We reach Venice

2:00PM   This has been uneventful day. We have the jib up and the engine running at about 2,000 RPM. At this speed we’ll arrive at the Crows Nest marina in Venice at about 3:30PM.

3:00PM   Tim spots the buoy marking the entrance to the Venice channel. He takes the fishing rigs down and we drop the sails. In less than five minutes we’re headed for the jetties. The tide is running out and the entrance to the channel is rough but it’s nothing compared to the conditions Tom and I experienced on the way down. Five minutes after reaching the jetties we're tied up at the fuel dock at the Crows Nest marina.  

Confronted by the Local Official Coast Guard Auxiliary Jerk-Ass
While we’re fueling up, the local coast guard auxiliary guy comes by in his official boat wearing his official uniform with his official sunglasses on and challenges my official Florida Registration. He looks like he has just seen "Cool Hand Luke" and is hunting escaped prisoners.

I have my current registration sticker but it isn’t on my window. I try to explain that I am replacing the windows, but he persists in being an official asshole so I agree to put it on the window. He leaves. I put the sticker on the window just in case he comes back. He might officially shoot me. 

Tim and I move the boat back to another section of the dock where we will spend the night. We hook the power up and fill up the water tanks. Then we go to shower and wash some clothes. Tim rides a bike into town to get something and comes back in about a half hour. I think he just wanted to get away from the Goose for a few minutes. I wash clothes while Tim is gone. It’s amazing how many shirts, socks, and briefs I can dirty up in only three days. I wash everything and then take another shower. Man, it’s HOT!

We dress and go to the Crows nest for a nice dinner. Tim insists that he pay for the marina and the meal tonight. I appreciate it very much. He is probably just glad to experience civilization again. I know I am.

It's getting dark but it's still hot!! We plug the fan in and point it toward the bunks. The sheets are flapping, but it’s now bearable. I think I'm getting used to the heat.

Tim and I discuss the next leg of the trip. We will be out two nights and won’t be anchored or docked again until we reach Panama City Florida. I don’t want to be chased by another freighter so we plot a course that will take us across the shipping lanes in daylight. I compute that we will be out of the shipping lanes no later than 5PM tomorrow afternoon.

Tuesday, June 4^th, 2001

We’re up early. Tim and I don’t discuss it, but we both know that this is the final leg of our adventure and we’ll both be glad to get to Panama City. So far, he’s hanging with me and I appreciate it. Lesser men than Tom or Tim would probably have jumped ship by now. So far, neither Tim nor Tom have complained about anything. We have an unspoken understanding that complaining or whining does no good. We do neither.

Tim releases the dock lines, the bow swings out into the current,  and we power out into the channel. One silky move -- Tim and I are fully coordinated now. Within 30 minutes we’re headed north to get past the Tampa Bay channel before dark. I compute that we should cross it at an angle of about about 70 degrees around 5 PM today. The channel is only about 5 miles wide, but we’ll continue on the same course until our rhumb line lies on the edge of the “Danger Zone” owned by the U.S. Military. I don’t want to get inside of this zone, but I do want to run parallel to the boundary. That way, we should not see any large ships and very few shrimp boats. This will minimize the probability of meeting another boat while running at night.

Tim cooks up another batch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. He has mastered this culinary form! He’s a creative cook. Tim didn’t do any fishing today and had the same result as when he fishes--nothing happens!

Poling the jib out

Several times, when the wind was on or close to being on our stern, Tim suggested that we pole the jib out or run wing and wing. I have resisted because the spinnaker poles are so unwieldy. I’m still wary of these poles. The thought of using a spinnaker pole to hold the jib conjures up an image of a 20 ft club slamming wildly around the deck, maiming anyone who comes near.

Today, however, we’re running dead downwind without the main. The jib will fill momentarily and then flop, making a violent snapping sound as it tries to jibe. This time, when Tim suggests poling it out, I agree. Tim asks where the spinnaker pole is. When I tell him he is standing on one of them, he looks stunned. I don't think I have ever heard Tim use profanity, but his expression told me he was thinking “holy shit!” The Goose has two spinnaker poles that weigh about fifty lbs each and are over 20 ft long. Each one is shackled to the deck adjacent to the cabin. We normally use them to sit on when we’re putting fuel or water in the boat. You can get a hernia just lifting one of these things.

We discuss the procedure for poling the jib out: One person will have to be on each end of the pole. While one person handles the topping lift and holds the pole at the right height, the other person attaches the snap shackle to the jib sheet. Once the pole is attached, the other end of the pole will have to be shackled to the main. We discuss the procedure and decide to do it.

Tim takes the jib end of the spinnaker pole and reaches for the jib. The sail is flapping violently, beating the hell out of him. The jib sheets are slack and as the sail flaps, they flail him like a whip. He turns his head to avoid the sheets but can't see anything. When he looks back to grab the jib sheet, he gets the crap beat out of him again. Finally, he manages to hook the pole to the jib sheet. The flailing jib now has 40 lb pole attached to it and I'm attached to the other end of the pole. As I try to get the snap shackle on the mast hook, the pole tries to skewer me, jabbing and jerking as the jib whips back and forth in the wind. If I let the topping lift loose my end will be on the deck destroying everything in sight, including Tim and me. This is like fighting an alligator. Finally, I get the pole attached to the mast without breaking any bones. Success is sweet!

It works well, but it’s a pain in the butt to put up. I hope we don’t have to jibe.

Another HOT day! We finally put two tarps together, hoping it will block the sun completely. It works. The cockpit is much more comfortable.

We cross the Tampa Bay channel on schedule and continue to our next waypoint. I check the GPS periodically to keep our course as direct as possible. According to my calculations, we should arrive in Panama City around 10AM on Thursday, June 6^th.

Computing our course and estimating the time to Panama City. 

Once target coordinates are set, the GPS continually computes time to target based on current boat speed. The GPS, a Raytheon WAAS unit, was so accurate that when  we got close to a target at night I was concerned that we might hit a marker head-on if we didn't see it first. By the way, it was hot down here! Photo by Tim Ball (using my camera).

Wednesday, June 5^th, 2001

8:00AM   We are now on the rhumb line along the edge of the Military Danger Zone. The wind is blowing about 8 knots out of the NE, so we put the sails up and turn off the engine. With the help of the wind, it now looks like we’ll arrive in Panama City by 7AM tomorrow morning. We both agree that it would be nice to have some peace and quiet so we decide to run as long as possible without the engine. This is nice. We relax and discuss the problems of the world, including religion and political issues. After identifying most of the world’s problems, we come up with some really great solutions. Most of our solutions involve other people changing their views or being incarcerated.

Not as hot today as it was yesterday.

After dark, Tim and I take two-hour watches. Very few boats have been sighted and none of any consequence after we crossed the Tampa Bay channel.

Uneventful day. Looks like we may get some showers. They will be welcomed.

Chased by an Aircraft Carrier

11:00PM   I’m on watch when the radar suddenly shows something coming up behind us. I don’t know WHAT it is, but I know it’s BIG! We’re running in about 180 ft of water so it could be a tanker or an aircraft carrier. Since we are so close to the Military Danger Zone, I’m wondering if it’s a US naval ship. Can’t see any lights, but the ship is about 12 miles off our stern and closing. I keep looking, trying to spot the ship but no lights are visible. I go back down to the radar and can see the ship closing on us. It’s gaining a mile on us every 4 or 5 minutes.  On its current course, it looks like it will either run over us or pass very close to our port side. This is not good! I go back up and stare into the darkness off the stern. No lights on the horizon.

I check the radar again and now I see TWO ships. A smaller has appeared on the starboard side of the big one – it must have been hiding behind the big ship. I’m guessing it is a support ship for the aircraft carrier, probably a Destroyer. They’re about 8 miles off our stern and coming straight at us – very fast, probably 25 knots. At 6 miles, a THIRD ship appears on the port side of the BIG ship. Now, it looks a carrier with two Destroyers for support. CRAP! They’re coming right up our stern.

When they’re 5 miles out and I still can’t see their lights, I decide to wake Tim up. If he spots them we can dodge them. If we get run over, he has a better chance of surviving. Maybe he can see their red and green running lights – if they are using them. I silently wonder if the navy is having maneuvers and the ships are running without lights.

Having come close to being hit several times, I’m getting anxious. I know they’re coming toward us at about 25 knots. If they get within a mile before they spot us, we might be under their radar. But, if we spot them we might be able to run at 90 degrees and get out of their way. Tim scrambles topside and looks for the ships. He can’t see anything either.

I get on the VHF and try to raise the big ship behind us.

 “This is the sailing vessel Wild Goose calling the large ships off our stern. Come back please!” No response. I radio our coordinates. I repeat this procedure about 5 times with the same result - no response. They move inside of three miles. We still can’t see their lights but they’re bearing down on us fast! My heart rate must be up around 160 now. We may be dead in 5 minutes -- chewed up by the prop on an Aircraft Carrier.

Tim comes down and looks at the radar screen—they’re about to run up our stern. Tim jumps back to the cockpit. No lights are visible! He stares down from the companionway to look at the radar and then back toward the ships. I call again on the VHF. No response!

Tim looks behind us and then at the radar again. Then suddenly, he says, “Those blotches on the radar are in the same position as the three squalls off our stern.” He leaps to the back of the cockpit to confirm. YES! That’s why the ships look like Aircraft Carriers. Squalls would explain everything! My heart starts slowing down. I didn’t think the radar would pick up squalls so vividly, but that must be what is happening. Like Batman, Tim has solved the riddle. We are saved! I am grateful! Tim is a genius!

Ten minutes later we’re being rained on. It feels good. This is MUCH better than being run over by an aircraft carrier.

Not much else happens the rest of the night. I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I compute that we have been making very good time today and will arrive in Panama City around 7:00AM. That’s too early. Nothing will be open.

Neither of us get much sleep tonight.

Thursday, June 6^th, 2001

5:30AM   We’ve been making good time and are now headed for the St. Andrews Bay channel entrance marker. It appears to be a few miles away just off our port bow, but there are other blips on the radar also. It’s still dark and we can’t see the other markers. It’s too early to head into the channel so we take our time approaching the channel markers.

We pass through the channel as the sun is coming up. About a mile from the entrance, we see an old schooner anchored on our port side just outside the channel. At first, it looks like a classic, but as we pass it we can see that is a live-a-board in disrepair.

6:50AM   We approach the Massoulina Bay drawbridge and as I prepare to signal the bridge operator, I notice masts just behind the bridge that appear to be occupying my slip. This looks fishy so I decide to tie up at the City Marina and call before going through the bridge.

Paul Benfield, owner of Tibbet’s boat yard, answers the phone just after 7:20AM. I tell him I am coming in. He doesn’t say so, but I can tell that something is wrong. I suspect that Paul has given my slip to someone else and there are no slips left. Turns out that my hunch is right.

Finally, Paul says they have a spot for the Goose. We give a long and short toot on the horn and the bridge operator starts opening the bridge. We negotiate through the opening, motor about two hundred yards and tie up on the end of a pier where a couple of giant yard hands are waiting for us. One of these guys is big enough to pull the Goose up on shore if required.

After we secure the Goose, Tim and I start putting things away. Tim needs to be in Ft Walton Beach by about 1:00 PM to catch his flight to Atlanta. We work like draught horses to get the sails put up and the boat washed down. We haul the sails back from the car and put them in the boat. We haul a ton of stuff through the sand to the car. We take the jib down, stretch it out on the dock, rinse it, flake it, put it into its bag, and store it onboard. We’re already exhausted from last night but we don’t stop until everything is secured. God, it’s HOT!

Finally, we’re ready to leave. We manage to get to the Ft Walton airport by about 1:00PM and Tim is able to catch the 1:30 flight. As I promised Susie, Tim is in one piece. He even has a little tan. Susie will like him better after this “makeover.” Tim is going back with a new appreciation for Air Conditioning and clean sheets. He’s been a great mate on both of our trips.

As I drive back to Panama City to finish Summerizing the Goose, I realize that Tim never complained once, nor did he give up on anything – even the Mahi Mahi. I’m amazed at this guy!  In fact, Tom Scott never complained or gave up at any time either. What are the chances of having two guys like this? Not much I think. I'm lucky.

It takes me two full days to decommission the Goose. Everything is washed down with fresh water. The heads are sanitized. The engine is filled with fresh water and sealed. All seacocks are closed. All cabinets are cleaned. I take everything that doesn't belong on the Goose back to the car. The car is jammed full of gear. Barely enough room left for me.

The Odyssey of the Man Boat (a.k.a. the Wild Goose) was fun, but it wasn’t all fun. However, no one can deny that it was a great adventure!  In the future, only REAL MEN need apply for passage! Real Men don’t complain, whine, or gripe. They just do whatever it takes to survive, make things work, and to have fun when they can. We also solved many of the world's problems on this trip. Maybe President Bush wants to join us next time. I’ll invite him. In the meantime I'm going to enjoy clean sheets, an unlimited water supply, and air conditioning. It’s good to be back.