Port Lavaca to Galveston - Sometimes, you just have to go "commando."

Port Lavaca to Galveston



This is the collection of shells combed from the south shore of Matagorda Island

The trip from Matagorda Island to Port Lavaca was uneventful, if you consider being passed in the Matagorda Ship Channel by a “partially loaded chemical tanker” uneventful.  Before making this 32 nm run, I was aware of the Matagorda Ship Channel.  At the top of Matagorda Bay is Port Comfort which is the home of a massive refinery complex.  Well, making all things wonderful out of petroleum products requires chemicals.  They’ve got to come from somewhere.  Around here, most of the refinery activity is on or near the water, so much if not all of the refinery products for production or final product are shipped by water; i.e. barges or tankers.  Sometimes, the tankers are barges.  We have seen what look like floating refineries being pushed down (or up) the GICW by tugs.  Some of these things that look like small refineries are very big indeed.  I recall a conversation with a tug captain I had on the way into Matagorda Bay.  I called him on the radio, having identified him on my AIS, and asked him what side he wanted to pass on.  He said, “your preference, skipper.”  I said, “Oh no, please.  It should be your choice.  You’re the one pushing what looks like a small refinery.  Me?  Hell, I’m just hauling my wife, two cats, and a case of warm beer to Galveston.”  So, he said, “Ok, Captain, we’ll see y’all on the two.  By the way, is that an old Chris Craft?”  Yada yada yada.  We had a nice conversation.  Anyways, my point in all of this is, we were aware that shipping in Matagorda Bay is important and that there is definitely a shipping lane.  All boats, however, share this lane.

So, I see this guy on the AIS and I know he is going to Port Comfort.  So, I picked him out on the radar when he was three miles behind me.  Then as he got closer, about 1.5 nm, I called him (since he hadn’t called me).  First I spoke with a guy with a distinctly foreign accent.  He was not the captain of the ship as these folks pick up Bay Pilots at the jetty entrance to Matagorda Bay.  I told him that I was about 1.5 nm ahead of him and that, based on his speed and mine, he would overtake me before the intersection or split between the Lavaca Channel and the channel to Port Comfort, and what did he want me to do.  He said, he would talk to the pilot and get back to me.  Some 3-5 minutes later, I get a call on the radio from the pilot.  He tells me to just, “slide on over to the green side” and he will have plenty of room.  “Sorry I didn’t call you earlier.”  So, I slid on over to the green side and otherwise held my course and speed.  

It took him a while, but just as we were both approaching the “Y” split, he passed me. 

Now, you have to understand, we are used to ships in shipping lanes having been crossing the Santa Barbara Channel for many, many years. 

However, we are generally weary of them and make it a point to keep a vast distance between us.  Moreover, we have rarely, if ever, successfully communicated with anyone on the bridge of one of these big ships. 

So, I have to tell you that being passed on my starboard side close enough to reach out and spray paint the name of my boat on the side of this one was a little interesting.  I mean, heck.  It’s not every day you get passed by a 465 foot partially loaded chemical tanker who tells you to drive on the wrong side of the road so he can pass, right?   

When we got to the split, he had to make a hard right turn.  When he did, he was less than 50 yards in front of us.  The rear end of that tanker swung out like nobody’s business and as he did so, he had to goose the throttle and, boy let me tell you, he sure kicked up a lot of mud.  The water turned from grown green to chocolate milk all around me and my depth sounder went “nutso.”  I knew we were in plenty of water, but the sensors picked up all that kicked up mud and must have really enjoyed telling me my depth was 1.8, 2.2, 1.5, 2.5 feet for a couple minutes there.  Then, of course, it cleared back up, and the sounder went back to 33’.   What a day!

So, we made the turn and slid, and I mean slid, into Port Lavaca.  I had been on the phone with the Harbor Master, a really nice fellow named, Ron.  I told him what we had, he told me what he had, and we agreed that he would meet us out on the end of the pier to wave us in (not uncommon in these parts, from what I hear.  Can you imagine the Harbor Master at Channel Islands Harbor actually getting out of his chair to aid a boater coming into the harbor?  NEVER HAPPEN.  As we concluded our phone conversation he said, “Don’t worry, you won’t miss me, I’ll be the fat guy out on the dock!”  You just have to understand how funny this sounds in a thick Texas drawl. 

 As we got into the harbor, and I think we left a corn row on the way in, he was there with several dudes he rustled up off the docks to help with the lines and to get us into this seemingly impossible place.  They did a great job and we were in, safe as a bug in a rug.  As soon as I had a chance to get off the boat, I shook his hand and thanked him.  He said, “The first night’s on the house, and after that, multiply the number of nights by $20 and if I’m not around, leave it in an envelope and shove it under the door.”  Oh yeah, right, like that’s going to happen in Ventura or any marina in California.  Nope, Texans have shown us wonderful hospitality at every turn.

Actually, when we arrived in Port Lavaca, Brenda uttered the words no boat captain ever wants to hear, “Hey Larry, there’s water in the v-berth!”  Oh Shit!  So, I go on down to take a look see and what did I find?  There was water in the v-berth – “a whole lotta” water in the v-berth – like, it was an inch deep on top of the floorboards.  First things first.  Any reasonably competent captain knows that the first thing you do when you discover water on board (water belongs OUTSIDE THE BOAT) is you grab up a big handful of it and put it in your mouth.  Is it salty?  Is it fresh water?  Did the holding tank rupture?  (yuck)  You have to do this to know whether you sprung a leak or whether your fresh water tanks are leaking.  Well, after doing this a couple times, I couldn’t tell, but I was pretty sure it was salty, but it was not that salty.  In any event, diving into a hot engine room and pouring through every small nook and cranny on the boat looking for a leak was not fun.  In all cases, I could not identify a leak.  All through hulls were sound, the main engine water pump, exhaust, rudder packing, shaft seals; all appeared to be sound and showed no evidence of a leak.  All hoses were fine. 

What we did discover, however, is that our bilge pump was clogged.  A screw had lodged itself in the hose and functioned to capture small amounts of debris and ultimately clogged the hose. We have a shaft seal that is supposed to drip.  This is what cools the shaft as it turns at 1600 rpms for hours and hours.  Normally, even after a long run, the bilge pump removes any water from the bilge.  It even has a float switch so it happens (or is supposed to happen) automatically, as it should.  In the end, Brenda and I could only surmise two possibilities:  One, is that the drip from the shaft seal was always there and there was water in the bilge from weeks if not months ago that was not visible to the eye, and, although the bilge pump sounded like it was working, it was not, and after a final 35 mile run, it just flowed into the v-berth and that was it.  Two, because it was so much water, and it was not all that salty, it might have been a strange accumulation of rain water since it rained so hard before we left Rockport, and again, it was unseen, and the bilge pump, although it pumped its little heart out, was not actually clearing anything because of the clog.  Those of you who have boats know that drips in one part of a boat may, in fact, be coming from a leak at a completely separate, far away, and disparate part of the boat.  In coming water, makes its way in the strangest way to the strangest places and finding that leak is almost impossible. 

All’s well that ends well, however.  We “MacGyvered” a spare bilge pump, some wire, a plug for a cigarette lighter, and 20 feet of hose we picked up at the mercantile, and pumped all the water out quite quickly without having to use a hand pump and buckets.  The other option would have been to have a party on the back deck.  This way, we would have plenty of extra weight on the boat to cause the water in the forward compartment to seep back into the keel where it otherwise belongs so the newly refreshed bilge pump could pump it out.  Since there was a hardware store nearby, we changed out all the hose on the bilge pump system and now it pumps water like a marathon runner.  Since then, the bilge and the v-berth have been bone dry.  So what happened?  No idea.  It just rained like the hammers of hell last night.  So we’ll see if there is water in the v-berth in a day or so (got to give that mysterious leak time to get there).

There really is no reason to visit Port Lavaca.  It definitely is not a tourist town.  It is a place to provision, however. It would appear that Port Lavaca serves the refinery industries in the area.  There is a hospital there (the only one between Galveston and Corpus Christi.  There is a HEB, a Bealls, and all of the other chain-style places you see in just about every other small coastal town in Texas.  There is a Subway, a Sonic, a Whataburger, a Popeye’s, a Pizza Hut.  There is a Radio Shack, a few scattered tax preparers, and, a photography studio. 

You know high school is a big deal in Texas.  Graduating from high school is a serious accomplishment in these small towns.  Generally, I think going to college is not something most kids finishing school think about, unless they are athletes.  Now, that, they take seriously.  The football stadium in Port Lavaca is bigger than those found on most college campuses throughout the country.  Every Friday or Saturday night, for several weeks in the fall, the entire town goes to the game.  They have to have seats for them all, or most of them. 

One of the more interesting things I saw in Port Lavaca, however, was a law office that specialized in mesothelioma claims.  It made sense given the proximity to major industry.  It was disgusting!  These leaches actually go in search of victims of asbestos exposure and sue the same industries that give life to these little towns because they know they can make a buck and get away with it.  It’s not like this is going on now.  These unfortunate folks were exposed many years ago when science was not all that familiar with asbestos and what could happen.  I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that this circumstance has been fixed.  It just seems to me that profiting off someone else’s misery is not entirely moral.  Those of you who know me, know that, given the opportunity to crap all over the legal industry, I would do so for days.  It sure gave me a lot, but it sure took a lot too.  I’m finished with it.

We had a wonderful time at a place called Tropical Gardens.  It was a short bike ride away.  There, they serve beer in buckets (6 bottles per bucket, all covered in ice.)  Brenda drank wine.  The fried shrimp and fried oysters, along with the fried eggrolls, fried Jalapenos, fried chicken wings, and fried “whateverthehellelse” was on that platter, sure was good.  It occurred to me that, hopefully, the hospital nearby has a really high quality cardiac care unit that specializes in angioplasties and placement of stents, given all the fatty fried foods many folks eat down here.  The idea of a fresh steamed veggie on a plate does not seem to resound very well.

We actually went to Port Lavaca because it was a place where we thought we could have Brenda’s contact lenses shipped with relative ease.  So, we made those arrangements before we got there, and of course, when we got there, the lenses had not.  This meant we had to wait another day.  We didn’t realize that the second day was Veterans Day and there definitely was no mail that day.  We spent the second day doing boat chores and laundry. 

As they say, sometimes, the hits just keep coming.  Later that night, we were chillin’ (well not really since it was well over 80) on the boat, doing laundry, watching tv, working on the computers, and doing some final boat chores before our planned departure in the morning, when I detected the distinct odor of burning rubber.  So I think to myself, great, the belt on the washer/dryer is going.  Then, I said to Brenda, “Are you baking cookies?”  Then, after a reasonably quick search, I determined the source.  We were burning up our ship-to-shore connection.  So, we shut down everything.  After a little research, I discovered the problem.  It’s called, or referred to as, a “loose neutral.”  Normally, the wires can handle the loads, but if there is a weak spot somewhere along the line due to a loose wire or corrosion on a wire, it can heat up due to resistance associated with this weakness, and can cause a fire.  At first I thought it must be the harbor’s problem.  I looked in the dock box and saw an electrical box with a breaker that looked older than me that was laden with hornet mud nests.  I later determined that, from an inspection of the boat side of the AC shore connection, it was the white wire, or the neutral, that was melting.  The weak spot however, was a corroded neutral “pin” in the shore cord.  So I have that to fix now as well.  What is the lesson in all of this?  Yeah! I get to go shopping at West Marine!  No, seriously, MAINTAIN YOUR SHORE CORDS!  No longer will the cord be nonchalantly dropped on the deck and left there.  This piece of equipment is probably the most taken for granted and one of the most notorious causes of fires aboard boats seemingly safe in their slips. Normally, when the boat is just sitting there plugged in, it probably will not be a problem.  However, if you put a load on it, it will be a problem. It’ll get fixed this week, before we plug in again.    There goes another $200 bucks.



Caney Creek (pronounced "crik")



We left Port Lavaca early the next morning.  Our goal was to make it to the San Bernard River.  However, because of currents and barge traffic, and a slow passage through the Colorado River Locks, we were not able to make the speed that would be necessary to get us to this river mouth before dark.  Additionally, there was weather on the way and I decided that, first, I did not want to attempt to anchor in a strange river mouth after dark; and second, I did not want to be anchored in a river mouth if there was going to be a lot of rain.  Logical, yeah?  So, having done our homework, we had a bailout plan, and we stopped for the night on a free dock at a park in a place called Caney Creek, three quarters of a mile west of the Caney Creek swing bridge.  It was a very nice place.  We could hear the surf on the gulf. 



Caney Creek waterside park.



This is what we had to tie to at Caney Creek......but it was free.



 

Although we only wanted to stay there a night, we ended up spending two.  The north wind kept us literally pinned to the dock the following day and there was no way in hell we were going to get off without risking serious damage.  So, we stayed put.  It gave us a chance to catch up on some reading and I got to put together the video of our passage through the Colorado River Locks.

 

Here we are following this barge hauling 8000 tons of butane into the Colorado River Lock.

We left Caney Creek, bound for Galveston.  76 miles.  It was an otherwise uneventful trip.  76 miles with a 20-25 knot wind on the nose the entire way.  Not that we were uncomfortable.  It was just cold and dreary out all day.  The sun never came out. 

On the way to Galveston, we passed through the small, but highly industrial town of Freeport Texas, aka "Sulphurtown".

Not sure what they make here, but it looks imposing



Not a warm and fuzzy place at all.



Ships docked and unloading.



Dry storage for boats - 5 decks high.  Love how they make the building look like a townhouse complex.



Old Casino Boat - wonder if it still moves.



The Galveston Bridge




Then it happened. As we were in the shadow of the Galveston Bridge, and less than a mile from our planned anchorage in Offetts Bayou, we had to navigate some tricky markers.  All of a sudden, the steering basically went out.  I could turn the wheel  - literally spin it – and nothing would happen, at least it was no where near as responsive as it should have been and we bumped the muddy bottom.  Obviously, I tried to turn, but I guess we got just a little out of the lines.  The lack of steering distracted me and I found myself heading for RN8 instead of RN6.  When we touched the bottom, the boat spun a bit and then the wind caught us.  We were stuck like a fly in molasses.  We tried to get off, but we were stuck and the steering was no good. So we shut ‘er down.  We first inspected for leaks.  We found none.  We then called Vessel Assist (Boat US).  The Coast Guard heard us calling and relayed the call to the Boat US dispatch office in Clear Lake.  They sent a boat.  So, an hour went by, and then, within 5 minutes of their arrival they pulled us out of the mud.  They were very professional.  In any case, it is a well known fact that, when cruising the ICW, it's not a matter of whether or not you hit bottom, but rather, how often.  You have heard me say before, the marks are not always where they are supposed to be.  Sometimes they are not there at all,  And always remember that the placement of the marks is a total government operation. 

Once we got going again, and because the steering was questionable, we asked them to escort us into Offetts Bayou.  They did.  The steering was really mushy, but we were able to get to a safe place to drop the hook.  Then I dove into the lazarette to see if I could discover the problem.  There it was.  The rudder quadrant had broken.  Now, I know how my friend Harry felt when a similar situation befell him.  I, however, am safely anchored in a wonderful protected anchorage with Galveston with all its resources at my finger tips, not trying to sail a leaking hull 2400 miles back from Hawaii. (Goodonya, Harry!)  So, first thing Monday morning, my fingers will start doing the walking and I figure in relatively short order, we will have this thing fixed.  After all, it is 28 years old.  It was probably bound to go sooner or later.  I just wish it hadn’t gone now. 

 So, here we are, in Galveston, Texas, anchored safely in Offetts Bayou.  Not everything has gone wrong……yet.  But, we have to remain positive because this is what life is all about – its challenges, its trials, and its tribulations.  I suppose, if there were never any challenges in cruising, very few folks of the sort I like to hang out with would even bother.  More importantly, however, Brenda and I are happy and together, and therefore able to handle anything.  Again, we’re not talking about anything life threatening here.  Nobody has been diagnosed with a deadly disease.  Nobody was injured.  And, to the best of my current knowledge, the water is still outside the boat.  It’s just boat shit, you know?  Now, we will have plenty of time to explore Galveston…..just as soon as I fix that damn flat tire on my bike!

Love and miss you all.

Entering Offetts Bayou - Moody Gardens and their "Ecopyramids"





Nice homes across from our dock at Caney Creek