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| Home > About Us > Hobie Honeymoon (Multihulls Magazine, Nov/Dec 1992) |
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Hobie Honeymoon Print
this page After a day spent sailing and snorkeling at Looe Key, 5 miles out in the Atlantic, we headed to shore under the deep-blue late afternoon sky. The sun was warm, the wind was up, and the knot meter indicated a speed of 10-12. We looked forward to exploring Newfound Harbor before anchoring for the night. But as we sailed by the exclusive Little Palm Club on Big Pine Key, we saw several people waving and taking photographs from the pier. Curious, we looked around. Aside from a couple of powerboats a mile or more offshore, ours was the only boat on the water. It seemed we were the subjects of interest. We conceded that after four days spent living aboard the Hobie 18, its deck ringed by large bags containing our tent, snorkeling and fishing gear, sleeping bags and clothes, cooking gear and electronics, we presented an unusual sight as we cruised in from the Atlantic. When we began planning our Florida Keys cruise, we certainly never expected to become the subject of videos and photographs taken by strangers. During those crisp, cool days so typical of fall on the Chesapeake, our thoughts and discussions had involved modifications to our Hobie 18 that would enable the boat to serve as a cruiser for several days. The Florida Keys: Sailing the American Caribbean We had planned our two-week honeymoon in the Florida Keys for the Christmas holidays. The Keys, often called "The American Caribbean," provide excellent sailing opportunities. Navigation is relatively easy since the water is well marked and the charts are current. There are plenty of sheltered harbors, anchorages, and marinas. Because of the Gulf Stream and trade-wind influences, the climate is sub-tropical and usually favorable for sailing. The sailing experience varies, depending on whether one sails 'outside' (down Hawk Channel in the Atlantic) or 'inside' (on the broad expanses of flat open water and protected areas of Florida Bay). The Keys offer other activities that make this an excellent vacation choice -- fishing, snorkeling, windsurfing, and exploring uninhabited islands. The area is interesting from an historical perspective, with the piracy, salvage, and smuggling that characterize the past and continue into the present With its tropical climate and isolated location, fascinating forms of plant and animal life have evolved. Our Base of Operations: Long Key State Park Since we wanted to spend as much time as possible cruising the area, we decided to camp at Long Key State Park in the Middle Keys. We reasoned that, by placing our base of operations at Long Key, we could sail northeast toward Key Largo, sampling the excellent snorkeling grounds at Pennecamp Coral Reef State Park and Key Largo Marine Sanctuary. We could also sail southwest toward the fishing haven of Marathon, the beaches of Bahia Honda, and on to Looe Key, another premier snorkeling area. Modifications: The Boat We had purchased our aging Hobie 18 a few months earlier. Since it had been sailed for several years by previous owners, preplanning involved extensive work on the hulls, sails, and trailer. After an exhilarating 45-minute timed run at 13.5 knots (by the chart, mark to mark) across Chesapeake Bay a few months earlier. We decided that a solar-powered digital through-hull knot meter was an essential addition to the boat. We installed cleats on each bow so we could use a bridle when anchoring with a 4-lb. aluminum Fortress FX-7 anchor. We added an extra layer of fiberglass on the bottom of the hulls to protect against damage from coral. A double set of reef points were placed on the mainsail, 3' and 6' above the foot. A topping lift and cheek blocks and cleats were attached to the boom for a jiffy reefing system. (The Hobie 18 has a unique way of securing the main when fully raised. We bypassed the Hobie system by installing a main halyard cleat that complemented the jiffy reeling system.) For Safety Since we expected to be sailing several miles offshore at times, out of sight of the low-lying Keys, our electronics included two hand-held VHF radios and a hand-held Loran. We brought along several flashlights (small and large) and a portable 500,000 candlepower spotlight. We used "Type V Hybrid inflatable PFDs. We placed kayak flotation bags inside the hulls and carried Marine-Tex epoxy cement for emergency hull repairs. And for Comfort Since we expected to live aboard the Hobie for several days, pre-trip planning and gear selection helped us achieve a surprising degree of comfort and efficiency. The deck area of the Hobie is just over 6 feet by 7 feet. With the topping lift, we could slide the traveller off its track and swing the boom out against the starboard shroud, where we secured it to provide room for a dome tent. As an alternative shelter, we created a dodger/ A-frame tent by installing grommets in a heavy tarp. We used both shelters at times, depending on our estimate as to the likelihood of rain. Unpredictable Keys Weather Winter weather is extremely unpredictable in the Keys. Two winters ago, near-freezing temperatures hit the area. Last winter was sunny, warm, and windy, with daytime temperatures in the high 70s to low- and mid-80s. Warm Gulf Stream waters and trade winds combine to influence the weather. An added factor in December and January are episodic arrivals of occasional cold fronts with chilly north winds. Short, intense rainsqualls hit often. To help us analyze and predict changes in the weather, we used a Casio wristwatch that measures barometric pressure and the 'Cloud Chart' weather forecasting system. We also listened to NOOA. Clothing The most important items of clothing we brought were full sets of foul weather gear. Fall Chesapeake Bay sailing experiences taught us that close reaching in 15- 20 knots on an overcast day with a boat speed of 10-15 knots and temperatures in the 60s can be a chilling experience. Warm long-sleeved shirts and Tape V Hybrid inflatable PFDs topped by foul weather jackets and pants enables sailors to spend hours on the water without hypothermia problems. Gear After researching backpacking stoves, we selected a Coleman Peak 1 single-burner stove that used both Coleman fuel and unleaded gasoline. Next, we located a nesting cooking set with a windshield that interfaced with the stove. The entire stove/cooking unit fit compactly into a cylindrical bag that measured 8 inches by 5 inches. We carried Coleman fuel in plastic motor oil containers. Planning our Voyage After listening to the weather forecast, we decided to leave Long Key in the morning and sail in a southwesterly direction along Hawk Channel, with Looe Key and Newfound Harbor as our ultimate destinations. We planned to stop by Knight Key, south of Marathon, to spend Christmas Day with friends. We made a list of things to take on the trip. Originally, we did not intend to cook on this, our first long Hobie cruise. We planned to bring snacks to munch on during the day, and to stop in the evening for a hot meal. A closer examination of a chart of the area revealed that after Marathon, there were few places to stop. Marinas were located in sheltered areas. We would have to rely on our ability to sail in and out of unfamiliar areas or use the power of one double-bladed kayak paddle. We would cook. We added cans of stew and soup to our provisions of peanut butter and honey, cheese and crackers, smoked oysters, tuna fish and Vienna sausages, bags of pistachio nuts and peanuts, fruit, dry cereal, and milk. We would work on the gourmet touches later. Packing the boat was a challenge. With a total deck area of six feet by seven feet, space was at a premium. We rolled up each sleeping bag, added towels and a change of clothes, and double-bagged everything in heavy plastic bags stuffed into duffel bags. We secured the duffel bags to the outer edges of each hull by a combination of stainless-steel hooks and truckers' hitches. The bags became seats, enabling us to sit comfortably above the hard deck. Remaining
gear was stowed in three duffel bags (electronics, cooking/food, and clothing/miscellaneous).
We secured these bags behind the mast, adjacent to the crossbar. Camera, film,
and fragile electronic items were enclosed in special waterproof bags. Finally, We Sail No wind. Well, not much wind. NOAA weather gurus forecast 10-15 knots out of the south-southwest. The few sailboats visible were traveling under power. By 10:30 a.m., we packed the boat and decided to head northeast toward Key Largo. We sailed on a beam reach until we were about a mile offshore, then we turned and headed downwind toward Key Largo. With the wind from the southwest, we realized that we were going to have a dead run in light winds . . . the mainsail flapping and slapping . . . a potentially miserable trip. In the interests of good cruising, we turned 180 degrees and headed southwest. We returned to our original plan, with the goal of anchoring near Knight Key by late afternoon. The wind continued light and shifty for several hours. According to the knot meter, we were close reaching at about 2 knots. We entertained ourselves by dodging lobster pots and watching the bright purple 'baggies' in the water that warned of Portuguese men-of-war. We wanted to drop anchor by 5:00 p.m. so we could settle in before dark. We discussed alternate plans about where to put in for the night. We had passed Tom's Harbor Keys, a good spot for shallow-draft boats just southwest of Duck Key. Grassy Key appeared to have few protected areas on the oceanside. As we neared Fat Deer Key near Marathon, we shared the water with more boats . . . charter fishing boats, large cruising sailboats, workboats, and even a few large multihulls. Marinas, though numerous, were accessible only by motoring or paddling through long narrow channels so we sailed on. A puff darkened the water to starboard. Within minutes, the wind had picked up and we were moving lightly over the water at 6-8 knots. We considered anchoring in the shallows of Vaca Key Bight but our speed increased . . . 9 knots . . . 10 . . . We continued to sail, looking for an anchorage near the south shore of Vaca Key. Christmas Eve at Vaca Key Sister Creek divides Vaca Key, forming a channel that leads into Boot Key Harbor and many marinas. Elegant homes line the south coast. Two 'tropical islands,' complete with swaying palms, sit a few hundred feet from shore. As we neared Sister Creek, we saw a deserted white sandy beach to starboard with picnic tables, water fountains, outside showers, and bathhouses. The joy of discovering an idyllic anchorage is cruising life at its best! We decided to anchor by the beach and have dinner at one of the tables. As we tacked in toward shore, we found the beach encircled by floating line and swimming markers. Entry was impossible. We made several quick tacks, trying to find an adjacent spot to drop the hook. No luck. The area had been dredged. The bottom was visible 15 feet below. Houses flanked the north end of the beach. To the south, the Sister Creek entrance was filled with a riprap jetty. Tacking again, we headed across the channel to the entrance to Sister Creek. Suddenly, we ran aground. The water's depth dropped from 15 feet to 4 feet. Pushing off, we headed toward West Sister Rock, one of the tropical islands, and anchored in 2 feet of water halfway between the island and the shore. We had completed our first day's journey, traveling nearly 20 miles in the first 7 1/2 hour day. For the first six hours, we averaged 2 knots in light to non-existent winds. According to the audio-log we kept during the trip, we never sailed slower than a half knot and never exceeded 3 knots until 3:00 in the afternoon. Preparations that first night were lengthy. Darkness fell long before we finished. Finally, we rinsed down with warm water from hand-held solar showers, changed into warm, dry clothes, and relaxed under the boom tent It was Christmas Eve. We anchored off Vaca Key and watched fluorescent animal life dart beneath the boat. Dinner included various cheeses and crackers, roasted peanuts, and pistachios, with chocolate Christmas candy for dessert. The Marathon fire department and rescue squad sirens provided music. As we lay watching the night sky, an enormous deep orange moon rose from the water. For a brief span of time, there appeared to be twin moons, moving away from one another in a slow and graceful vertical dance. We toasted the night. Life was good. Cloudy and Windless on Christmas We awakened early on Christmas morning to a gray, sunless day. The Hobie had reacted to the forces of small wavelets curling around West Sister Rock and the northerly breezes, we lay beam on. In 2 feet of water, the 6-inch wavelets created continuous side-to-side rocking motion that caused us to sleep fitfully. Typical first-night-out restlessness caused us to awaken often to check the anchor. We sailed quickly from West Sister Rock to Knight Key, despite light winds. At Knight Key, we joined our New England friends. Al and Susan Simmons are masters-level windsurfing champions whom we met at windsurfing regattas on the East Coast. Despite thick stratus clouds and lack of wind, the barometer was rising and stood at 1029 millibars (30.39") by mid-afternoon. We set up the dome tent. When we returned to the boat after dark, we wanted to know that nighttime preparations were complete. The water was murky so it was impossible to see the bottom. We used our friends' inflatable with 15 horses to set the anchor. We were about 75 yards off Knight Key (in 4 feet of water). The anchor with chain and 25 feet of nylon scope was firmly set. Keys' Anchoring Challenges (or, Setting the Hook in Concrete) Anchoring in the Keys is a challenge. The bottom often consists of slick, concrete-like limestone, topped by 4"-6" of coral sand. Initially, the anchor may seem to hold. With pressure, it often breaks free. Although the Fortress anchor is effective in the sandy, muddy bottom of the Chesapeake Bay, it was not a good choice in the Keys. We
plotted the next day's sail to Looe Key National Marine Sanctuary. By the chart,
Looe Key seemed to be about 20 miles southwest of Knight Key and about 5 miles
offshore. We looked forward to a long sailing day, and hoped for fair winds. When we checked our bearings in the night, the anchor seemed secure. Before sunrise, we drifted out into a channel that would be very busy when the charter boats left Boot Key Harbor. Clearly, we did not anchor as securely as we thought. Just Sea and Sky We left Knight Key at dawn and sailed parallel to the 7 Mile Bridge. Heading south, the 7 Mile Bridge is the last crossover spot from Hawk Channel on the outside and Florida Bay on the inside before Key West. After passing the bridge, we changed course to a more southerly direction, heading out to sea. The shore began to lose its detail, gradually bccoming a thin green line to starboard. Finally, the coast disappeared altogether. We were surrounded by sea and sky. As a novice sailor, I was extremely aware of the 40-plus feet of water beneath our deck and the miles to shore. What if . . . My anxiety diminished as I became aware of the beauty that surrounded us. Black diving ducks dotted the surface of the water, flying heavily away as we sailed by. Sea gulls glided and swooped in an endless search for food. Pelicans hit the water like cannonballs and black frigate birds soared overhead. The shrouds clinked and rattled rhythmically. Telltales fluttered on the sails. We skimmed over the sparkling. choppy blue sea in moderate winds, making the 20-mile sail between Knight Key and Looe Key in under four hours. We spotted rain squalls to the north and south throughout the day, but were not troubled by bad weather. Sailing along the reef near Big Pine Shoal, 4 miles offshore, we saw scores of fishing boats, pitching in the seas. The Fragile Florida Reefs Florida reefs are fragile, complex ecosystems. The reefs were formed thousands of years ago when the sea rose after the ice age. They grow at an exceedingly slow rate, between 1 foot and 16 feet every 1,000 years. In order to grow, coral must have proper salinity, freedom from pollutants, and minimum water temperatures of 70 F. Looe Key is a National Marine Sanctuary noted for its extraordinary beauty. It is an offshore reef located seaward of Hawk Channel. Because of the shallow water, fish are plentiful and coral species abound. Proximity to the Gulf Stream causes the water to be extraordinarily clear. Snorkeling at Looe Key We approached the reef carefully, circumnavigating to examine the area and locate the mooring buoys. The wind picked up and the sea was rough. Mooring while under sail in choppy seas was a challenge. As we approached a mooring buoy to windward, I stretched far out over the starboard bow, snagged the pickup line, and secured it to the bow cleat. Success on the first try! We pulled up the daggerboards, lowered the mainsail, and secured the gear on deck. The Hobie was rolling in the large swells. Donning masks, snorkels and flippers, we slipped into the water. Although the sea was rough, the water was surprisingly clear. While some of Looe Key is awash, depths typically range from 3 feet to 20 feet. The visual impact was breathtaking. The reef varied in both form and color, with shades of gold, green, and tan predominating. enhanced by rich purples and brilliant oranges. We swam past elkhorn and staghorn coral, huge brain coral, flower and mountain coral, and various sea fans. Channels of white sand cut between coral fingers. We saw dazzling displays of fish. Huge schools of blue-striped grunts and porkflsh weaved through the coral. Colorful wrasse and sergeant majors, with their five distinct dark stripes, swam by carelessly. Brilliantly colored parrotfish crunched and munched tirelessly along walls of coral, while intricately patterned blue and gold angelfish and yellowtail snappers sailed gracefully by An immense striped Nassau grouper swam slowly along the bottom near a large coral head. Long slender barracuda seemed to float weightlessly in the water, watching our every move. As we swam down, the barracuda followed. As we swam left or right, they shifted their positions, following our movement with their eyes. Suddenly, I saw a large familiar dark shape below, moving in a slow undulating motion along the sandy bottom. Shark! For a moment, I felt a surge of fear, then recognized it as a harmless nurse shark. We continued to explore the rich reef system before swimming slowly back to the Hobie. When we pulled ourselves onto the tramp, we saw that the sky was leaden and grey. The wind was chill. We decided to turn toward Newfound Harbor, our destination for the night. Due North To Newfound Harbor Since we were about 5 miles offshore, the low-lying Keys were barely visible. Examing the chart, we found that if we sailed due north, we should arrive at the entrance to Newfound Harbor in less than an hour. Newfound Harbor is reputedly the best oceanside stopping-off place between Marathon and Key West. Its attractions include protected anchorages, uninhabited islands and several large marinas. The harbor area consists of three smaller bays, or bights: Newfound Harbor (between Ramrod and Little Torch Keys), Newfound Harbor Channel (between Little Torch and Big Pine Keys), and Coupon Bight (south of Big Pine Key and north of the string of Newfound Harbor Keys). Gradually, as the shoreline grew larger and more detailed, the sky began to clear. The clouds split. Streaks of blue created patterns in the brightening sky. The water changed from slate grey to dark blue to aquamarine. Finally, we spotted the palm-thatched roofs of the Little Palm Club. The harbor opened out before us. Exploring the harbor in the late afternoon sun left us with enduring memories. The wind continued to rise as we flew across the blue-and-gold surface, feeling the acceleration as the weather hull lifted off the flat surface of the water. We were half-sailing. half-flying across the bay. Ten knots . . . 11 . . . 12 . . . 13 knots! Automatically, we moved our weight out over the water . . . the heavily loaded Hobie was flying a hull! An Ideal Anchorage The sun was low in the sky when we spotted our anchorage for the night. Located between Newfound Harbor Channel and Coupon Bight, we saw an island surrounded by a white sandy beach. The water was shallow and the beach looked inviting. Anchoring in 2 feet of water, we walked ashore. We talked with a Philadelphia couple who came to the island in a powerboat. The man asked if we had been snorkeling out at Looe Key earlier in the day. Surprised, we answered in the affirmative. He said he saw us at the reef, adding that he didn't think anyone was "crazy enough" to sail "out there" on a Hobie. We discussed our plan to explore the Keys by boat. The woman asked if she could take our picture. After a quick dinner of stew and fruit, we laid our sleeping bags out on the tramp. Since rain was not imminent, we decided to forego the tent for a better view of the night sky. Fat Albert, the huge strobe-lit blimp filled with drug-detecting radar equipment, hung in the air over Cudjoe Key to the south. Warm golden lights from cottages dotted the shoreline. Hundreds of thousands of brilliant stars were scattered across the dark sky. The wind blew cool across the deck. Struggling unsuccessfully to stay awake, we were asleep an hour after dark. Our Last Dawn We awakened at dawn and slowly began to prepare for our last day's sail. Quietly and lazily, while at anchor, we discussed plans for the day. Suddenly, the wind shifted and began to blow . . . hard. Rain hit with breathtaking fierceness. Quickly, we climbed into foul-weather gear and began to secure the boat and loose gear, The rain lashed down in sheets while the wind whipped across the grey water. Visibility was zero. We could not see the shore that lay just 50 feet away. Within minutes, the huge black clouds lumbered away to the south and the driving rain slowly abated. The storm left us drenched and bedraggled. Deciding that we had better get a quick start, we raised the mainsail, popped the jib, and lowered the daggerboards. As we trimmed the sails. the Hobie accelerated smoothly and we headed for the mouth of the harbor. Three large sailboats were motoring ahead of us, their rigging slapping and snapping loudly in the early morning air. The stench of diesel fuel from their engines stung our nostrils. Sea gulls swooped behind the boats, screaming for food. The Long Beat Home The sky was clearing. The wind blew strongly out of the east. Unless the wind shifted, we would be sailing upwind the entire way home. As the crow flies, long Key is 40 miles from Newfound Harbor. Would we make it sailing upwind, before darkness fell? We felt a sudden surge of power as we left the protected harbor and entered the open sea. The cat's bows sliced into the waves, flinging spray back onto the deck. The sun shone, the water glittered. The sky was a deep dark blue. We tacked. Gusts of wind ripped across Hawk Channel, blowing silvery plumes of spray over us. We tacked again, crisscrossing the channel in the Atlantic, mainland to port, the reefs several miles to starboard. We continued to beat toward Marathon. Sheets of water crashed onto the tramp, drenching everything. It was a wet, wild, exhilarating sail. According to the knotmeter, we were averaging 9 knots boat speed (probably 5 made good over ground along the rhumb line). We climbed up and over the swells and sledded down into the troughs. What a life! Strong winds turned the flying spray into pellets of rock-hard water that hit our faces and stung our eyes when we lost our rhythm and forgot to turn away. We tried to estimate the height of the waves, finally settling on 5 feet. Sailing near the 7 Mile Bridge, we decided to cross through Moser Channel and complete our trip on the inside. When we neared the bridge, the water was very shallow. Crouched on the tramp, peering into the water, we tried to spot the ubiquitous coral heads that could damage the hulls. Life in the Quiet Lane Inside the Gulf, it was much quieter. We moved smoothly across the great broad expanse of the bay. Ripples from our wake ridged the pale-green water astern. Land was a dark-green jagged line to starboard. We continued hard on the nose, tacking up the Keys. Sailing by the same islands we had passed a few days earlier, we felt as though weeks had passed since we began our trip. Though the wind dropped slightly, the water was flat and we continued to make good speed, averaging 5-6 knots boat speed through the afternoon. As the afternoon wore on, we took turns on the tiller. Fighting the constant weather helm was fatiguing. We discussed whether we should chance sailing in the dark to make it back to Long Key. After the 5:30 p.m. sunset, we knew we would have enough light to sail for another hour. If the wind did not drop below five knots, we should have sufficient time to get home. Fortunately, the channel was well marked. Coral heads, which sometimes stand like huge invisible underwater boulders, were not a problem. We were familiar with the area between the Inter-coastal Waterway and Long Key from earlier snorkeling and windsurfing expeditions. We decided to push on into the night if necessary. The Waterway markers, the landmarks on shore, and the miles ticked steadily by. Every few minutes we tacked. Finally, we were sailing along Long Key viaduct. We would be home before dark. Eventide Our journey almost over, we lounged on the deck and watched a parasailor high in the air, his sail bright against the darkening sky. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky was streaked with red, gold, and purple. Parasailor, pelicans, and Waterway marks combined to form an image for the perfect photograph. We thought about the people taking photographs as we sailed into Newfound Harbor from Looe Key. What pictures would we bring back from our trip to the Keys? Keys Images The pictures we returned with are experiences . . . things seen, heard, and felt on our journey. We recall our sense of awe as the huge orange moon climbed from the sea on Christmas Eve, and the sight of thousands of brilliantly colored fish swimming fearlessly past us at Looe Key. We remember the sound of hungry, shrieking gulls when we left Newfound Harbor on our last day out. We can still feel the sharp salt spray on our faces as we beat up Hawk Channel, and the fatigue of sore muscles as we trudged around the anchorage in Newfound Harbor in another frustrating attempt to set the anchor. We can re-experience our pleasure at the sight of a lone parasailor silhouetted against the brilliant evening sky. A Keys Journey Ends . . . Our thoughts turn to hot showers, dry clothing, solid ground, warm food, with gin and tonics in glasses filled to the brim with ice - and to warm, dry sleeping bags. Continuing to sail, we evaluated the trip. Factoring in our tacks, we had sailed approximately 60 miles in 8.5 hours, averaging 7 knots. Half that distance was sailed in the pitching seas of Hawk Channel. We had not been dry since we woke at 6 o'clock that morning. We were bruised from banging into gear bags on the deck during the frequent tacks. Our skin was covered with cuts and scratches from the sharp coral sand. We were tired, hungry and sore. . . . And a Lifelong Journey Begins Famous world traveler and writer Paul Theroux wrote, "The journey, not the arrival, matters; the voyage, not the landing." What was the significance of this journey for us? As sailing partners, our skills are very different. Pete had sailed extensively for more than 30 years. My sailing experience was limited to windsurfing. When we purchased the Hobie, I didn't know a shroud from a halyard. Dealing with the inevitable uncertainties and anxieties of sailing miles from shore in Hawk Channel led to increased confidence in my abilities, tempered with respect for the sea. Finally, we recently became married partners. On this, our first sailing trip together, we discovered that we could work cooperatively and live peacefully together within the confines of a 6-foot by 7-foot Hobie deck. This is a discovery that bodes well for the future. Our journey was a success! "Hobie Honeymoon" was published in Multihulls magazine (November / December 1992 issue)
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