Riding Out Tropical Storm Colin - Pt. 2

By definition, a “tropical storm” is a cyclone which originates in the tropics and attains sustained wind speeds between 34–63 knots (39–73 mph/63–118 km/h). It's one step below a category 1 hurricane. An eerie calm had descended upon the anchorage. There were none of the usual boat sounds … no fishing boats or cigar boats whizzing past up the channel. No jet skis. The tour boats didn't go out. There was no wind. The only movement of water was driven by the current and it was so quiet we could hear the lap of water against the hull as the water passed by. Everyone and everything seemed poised ... waiting for Tropical Storm Colin to arrive. It was the proverbial “calm before the storm”. Calm and disquieting.

We'd already stowed the dinghy and prepped for departure, so there wasn't much to do other than check and double-check. We lashed down the bimini. We busied ourselves with odd chores on board throughout the day, seemingly busy and casual, but the anticipation of the impending storm was always there.

We had brief showers on and off during the day and the skies were dark and forbidding. We waited and waited. We ate dinner around 7pm. It was still pretty quiet. We're not good at the waiting game and the angst was palpable. It wasn't until 9pm that we heard the first real rain begin to fall. Then it came in buckets. Hard, hard rain that emptied the sky and kept on coming. David's hatch repairs were being tested and seemed to be holding just fine. It became stifling below decks … hot and muggy with all the hatches and ports closed.

The wind soon caught up with the rain. We could hear it approaching like a freight train and then the howling began. It whipped through the rigging. Previously well-behaved lines and halyards banged and clanged. The incoming strong current was at odds with the winds and Cups heeled over as she took the winds broadside. A few things not stowed after dinner went flying off the counter … my bad. The mooring ball, driven by the strong current, clanged against the hull with loud thuds. David went on deck innumerable times to check the ball and look for chafe in mooring lines. Each time he came back below soaked to the bone after only minutes on deck. All was fine. We chatted, watched movies and sipped tea. There was no sleeping.

The tide finally began to change just after 11pm and the current got in sync with the wind. Cups was clearly more comfortable and so was her crew. The thunder and lightning began, but only one bolt appeared to strike close by. The others lit the sky spectacularly and blasted us with a few loud cracks, but posed no threat. We checked for weather updates frequently. Some waterspouts had been sighted earlier in the day in other parts of the state, but none in the St. Augustine area. We saw a max of 40 knots on the wind speed indicator … a good sailing day for our South African friends in Cape Town … but we were definitely out of practice for storm force winds.

By 2am, the worst that Colin was dishing out had passed. David made one more walk around deck, checked the mooring lines and we headed to bed … tired, but relieved. All told, it was certainly not the worst storm we've endured, but we were glad it was over. Colin is on his way northeast to Georgia and the Carolinas and then is expected to head offshore to the hurricane graveyard.

We woke just after 7am. The sun was trying to shine and the sky was a patchy blue. Cups seemed no worse for the wear and her decks were clean and salt-free. We discovered a few new leaks, but nothing major … something to add to “the list”. We noticed one sailboat at anchor nearby with its torn and tattered jib fluttering in the morning breeze. The rest of our neighbors appeared to be just fine. The marina launch made a pass through the mooring field asking if we'd had enough wind. Definitely.

The worst is over and we'll be on our way soon once the seas calm down a bit and the southerly winds return. In the meantime, we return to our adventures in St. Augustine. Once we're en route to the Chesapeake, we'll update you with passage notes.

New Friends, Old Friends

It's quite different being back in Florida. First, we've had a hard time remembering we're actually back in the States. We get and can make phone calls! We don't have to check in with Customs or Immigration every time we move from port to port. We also have lots of friends and relatives here and have received all sorts of “welcome back” messages and opportunities to get together. It's good to be back. We met up with Doug, one of our oldest cruising friends. We met him in Charleston back in 2000 when we were just starting out. Lots of things have changed throughout the last 16 years, but our friendship has endured. He drove up from Lake Worth and stayed the night on the boat. We haven't seen him since 2012 when he visited us for New Year's in Sydney, but we picked up as if it was yesterday. There was not a minute that we weren't chatting and catching up. Doug was most noted for receiving, consolidating and sending or toting boat parts to Nine of Cups wherever we were in the world.

We were in the dinghy heading back to Cups one afternoon when we heard a hail from shore “Hey, Nine of Cups”. Kurt and Pamela from “Big Frisky” had been following our blog for some time. Embarrassingly, they knew way too much about us, but in the few minutes we had to chat, we learned a bit about them as well. We have the cruising life in common and we're all SSCA members. They're heading north, too. We hope to meet up with them again along the way.

We got an email from Zack who had read David's article about Dyneema lifelines in Good Old Boat. He recognized our boat name and sent us an email letting us know that we were neighbors in the mooring field. His ketch, Moonlight, is moored just in front of us. We'll get together with him before we leave.

Cheryl and Dave aboard Renaissance have been following our blog, too and we've had lots of emails back and forth over the years as they prepared to throw off the docklines and embrace the cruising life. And they did! They're here in St. Augustine. Getting together with them was like meeting up with old friends, though we'd never met before other than through internet correspondence.

Our niece, Jill, and her family made the 3-hour trek from Florida's west coast just to visit with us for a few hours one evening. We hadn't seen her since 2007, but after lots of hugs and kisses, it didn't take us long to begin catching up over dinner at the pub. What a fine, enjoyable reunion.

Then, out of the blue, we got a call from Stephan, one of the marina employees. Uh-oh … what did we do wrong? Nothing. Our friends Alyson & Mara from the Boston area follow our blog and are friends with Stephan. He called to welcome us on their behalf and offered us the use of his Jeep! Wow … wheels in St. Augustine. Awesome!

The world of cruisers has always been a friendly one. Though the passages may be long sometimes and sailboats are notoriously slow, we prove time and time again that the world is small. Meeting up with relatives and old and new friends is one of the wonderful aspects of cruising. Being back in the USA means we're all more accessible to one another. We're hoping this trend of meeting new folks, old friends and relatives continues as Nine of Cups and crew sail north in familiar home waters.

Culebra to St. Augustine - Arrival

By all calculations, we should have reached our destination by early this morning, but we haven't. The sea gods, in their ongoing quest for amusement, had some tricks up their proverbial sleeves and provided a few challenges before allowing us to reach St. Augustine.

First of all, the weather forecast (all of them) has been all over the place. The predicted light S/SW winds were in fact northerly and right on the nose. We were concerned that crossing the Gulf Stream, wind against current, would pose some problems. We opted to motor due west across the strongest part of the current.

We noticed the intermittent “racing” of the engine at the same moment … just after dinner. It only happened a couple of times and we figured perhaps the wave action might be causing it (wishful thinking), but to be prudent, we killed the engine and David checked out the transmission fluid, previously checked just before leaving Culebra. The level barely registered on the dipstick. Why? He prodded and poked and checked and narrowed it down to the heat exchanger which was overdue for replacement. He had, of course, a spare aboard. We hove-to while he located it, removed the old and installed the new and wiped down the engine … all in a record 90 minutes. We topped up the fluid and resumed motoring for an hour.

We killed the engine once again to check the transmission. The fluid was down more than half. A more careful examination of every hose and clamp and he found some oil and a tiny split on the back side of the prop brake hydraulic hose. We've got at least 10 spare hydraulic hoses aboard, but none that would fit. Luckily, this was one we could do without and David fashioned a plug that worked like a charm. We resumed motoring and stopped in an hour to check the fluid. Still down some, but not as much as before. We topped up and motored another hour. There was no sleep to be had.

Another hour … another stop. The fluid level was down a tiny bit, however, the engine sump was filled with water! Just as David commented on the water situation, the hi-water alarm sounded. This was concurrent, of course, with lightning and an increase in wind to 25+ knots on the nose. I put the bilge pump on and commenced working the manual pump while David bailed in the engine room to find the source of the leak. He found it, corrected the problem and we continued to trudge on. At 0600, we were still 40+ nm out and exhausted.

Ah, but there's a happy ending. By Noon, the wind and sea began to calm. The transmission fluid was holding steady. There was much jubilation when the St. Augustine sea buoy came into view.

We followed the well-marked channel through the St. Augustine Inlet and into the Matanzas River. We hailed the bridgekeeper and passed through the Bridge of Lions bascule bridge at the 1430 opening.

Mooring #35 was waiting for us. Another safe landing … what more can you ask for? A nap and a cold beer!

Total passage miles: 1131 nm