Around 11:00 Brenda started to move so I went down below to say good morning. I was sitting with her reading her my last blog entry before I shot it out into cyberspace. At about 11:15, I went up to start the coffee. When I entered the salon, I noticed that it had got very dark. I thought I might still be wearing my sunglasses. Nope. The curtains were closed. Nope. So, I filled the coffee pot and started the generator. Then it occurred to me that the sky had turned grey like dark lead. Brenda had already gone up on deck and I was still down below pulling together the coffee service. Brenda hollers down to me that I had better come up. So I went up into the pilot house. At this point things got really weird.
The water was boiling, literally churning like a bubbling cauldron. It had turned very dark. The sky was almost blue black and very low. Then, it hit us. There came this wind. It was like standing face to face, waste deep in the water, with a breaking 5 foot wave. BLAM! All of a sudden, this powerful north wind literally bounced the boat around in the opposite direction. Abreojos danced and spun and bounced around like a plastic pool toy. And started stretching at her chain, and now pulling in the complete opposite direction she had been pointing. THIS WAS NOT IN THE WEATHER FORECAST AND WE WERE BASICALLY ON A LEE SHORE, RATHER CLOSE TO SHALLOW WATER AND THE ST. ANDREWS STATE PARK PIER. Nevertheless, we were holding. That good old, reliable Bruce anchor was doing its job. I suspect if Bruce were a person, he would be justified in asking for a raise after this day.
Now, it’s always been a fascinating thing to me how, when faced with certain circumstances, a person’s instinct and training come flying to the forefront boosted by adrenalin. The first thing we did was immediately start the engine and get the electronics up and running. We could not see as the rain wave that washed over us was pounding us like a Peking Duck! Visibility was down to zero, so we had to get the chart plotter and GPS up so we could see exactly where we were. The depth sounder, actually came first. Notwithstanding our 180 degree swing, we still had plenty of water under the boat. Next the radar. Radar is wonderful in fog and in darkness, but useless in a severe rain deluge, until you tune out the rain. Done. Now we could see in all directions, including under the boat.
The wind picked up quite a bit. We were seeing gusts of 50-60 knots. When we anchored in 10 feet of water (yes, double digits), we allowed ourselves the luxury of 75 feet of chain. Our scope was at 5:1 – 10 for the depth, 5 for the height of the pulpit to the water, that ‘s 15, then multiplied by 5. The tides here generally shift between 1 foot up and 1 foot down, so we don’t always take that into consideration. On an all chain rode, this is usually going to be sufficient in settled conditions. This was more than sufficient for the forecast weather conditions. However, I was no longer confident this scope would be sufficient in the conditions we were experiencing. So, of course, I had to go up to the bow to let out more scope. Brenda handled the wheel and the throttle. We had to take strain off the chain snubber so more chain could be let out. Note, we did not want to pick up the anchor and move because it was so well dug in. No point in messing with that. I did, however, release more chain so our scope became 10:1.
While up on the bow, I got soaked hard. I mean hard. The rain was hitting me at up to 60 knots! Kinda feels like getting shot in the face with a shotgun at close range. (Not that I would know, but just imagining…) Not fun at the time. In hindsight, however, it was pretty funny how my feet squished in my shoes; how with every step I took, water came out like I was stepping into a full bowl of water.
Lightning was flashing all over the place. It was like a camera flash every 6-7 seconds, followed by thunderous thunder. So, while I am up on the bow, Brenda sounds the horn. So, I scampered (as much as this 6 foot 260 pounder, soaked to the bone in sweats can “scamper”) back to the wheelhouse window. Then Brenda showed me my phone. The National Weather Service JUST issued its weather alert for the possibility of severe thunderstorms and high winds for our area. Well, I’ll tell you. Timing is everything in life. The NWS was just a little late on that call. I looked at Brenda, chuckled and said, “No! Really?!” I went back to my work out on the pointy end and got that settled before returning to the wheelhouse.
Brenda, the love, had already gone below and brought me up some dry clothes and poured me a cup of coffee. Not even a tsunami is going to get between that girl and her morning coffee. My Android has a weather radar application that we turned on next. We could see the actual storm as it passed over us. By then, about 20 minutes after it started, we could see that the deep purple and red edge of the storm had already passed over us. The worse was over and we had only to sit back and wait for the rest to make its way passed. Technology is a wonderful thing. Some of you may know, but many of you can only imagine, how nice it is to see the fist hitting you in the face and knowing that the arm is about to fall off any minute now. Well, that’s just how it felt. So, every few minutes, we turned on the weather radar and watched the storm pass over us. It was nice seeing the colors change from red, to orange, to yellow, to green, to blue, and then finally it cleared.
We figured we get ourselves caught in one of those eventually. However, we were totally prepared for just such an eventuality and handled it. I’m real proud of Brenda. That girl never loses her cool. If she was concerned, she certainly did not show it. It may sound strange, but around here, what’s the worse thing that can happen? We sink? Then we sit in the wheel house and finish our coffee. We were only in 10 feet of water. We get blown up on the beach? So what? We’d land on soft mud banks and not get pounded on the rocks by an unrelenting surf. No biggie. The worst thing that can happen is for someone to get hurt. This is not as likely to happen when boaters are trained, calm and act accordingly.
So we were fine. After it was all said and done (after around 2 hours), we pulled the dinghy and left for Pier 98 Marina. It was a totally uneventful ride. It rained on us a little more while under way, but not even hard enough to clean the mud off the deck from the anchor chain. We left St. Andrews Bay and hung a left back into the ship channel and then hung a big right up at the top and back onto the ICW. Then we hung another big left and then another big right, passed the paper mill, under a tall bridge, and finally, we found ourselves at the mouth of Pitts Bayou in no time at all. We called the marina and let them know we were a few minutes out and inbound and they said they’d keep an eye out for us.
We pulled into Pitts Bayou and found the marina. What a beautiful bayou. The marina was on the right. We pulled up to the long dock where the fuel and pump out were and were greeted by Sally, one of the owners of the marina. She and her husband, John, own Pier 98 Marina which includes a great and well stocked store and deli, a seafood and steakhouse, a gas station, a fuel dock, numerous slips for transient and permanently moored boats, and, of course, Joey’s Oyster Bar.
Poor John. At just the time we arrived, his point of sale computer system took a dump. He was working very hard to get that back up and running. Recall how I said technology is such a wonderful thing? Well, sometimes, it can also be the bane of your existence. While his computer was down, he could not sell fuel. Not only did we have to wait at the fuel dock, but his real money maker, the gas station pumps, were completely down and I can only imagine that it cost him several hundred dollars. The computer company was sending him the fix over his phone lines. It was a rather large file, I am certain. But, every time he got a phone call, his call waiting function would bounce the computer download right out off the track. He also had to contend with his little 8 year old girl who liked to pick up the phone and hear the computer speak. Poor guy. Throughout all this, however, he and Sally could not have been more friendly and accommodating. John and Sally are a delightful young couple who work very hard and deserve lots of kudos.
So, while we were waiting, I decided to keep busy, so I took out the trash. While doing so, I met Joey. Yes, the same guy who owns and operates Joey’s Oyster Bar. Joey is a very nice guy who is preparing his own boat, a Hunter 36, for a cruise to South America. Later that evening, we would go to Joey’s and discovery perhaps one of the best kept secrets on the Gulf Coast.
Joey’s Oyster Bar is just the kind of place I have been looking for these last 900 miles. It’s a “smallish” establishment that sits right at the top of the fuel dock. Their drinks are kept cold in coolers filled with ice as there is no refrigeration. The bars are built from the wood of old and replaced docks. The floors are wood, and the whole place is windows. They say that they can open the windows wide during good weather. I can well imagine how cool it would be to chill out at the oyster bar in the summer and enjoy a breeze, a cold beer, and fresh (and I mean fresh – Joey is also the Oysterman who goes out and harvests the oysters fresh each day) oysters listening to good music. Joey played a video he made – sort of his own “Dirty Jobs” video, which shows how the Oysterman does his thing. He works from a small boat – more like a skiff – and with a large double sided rake-like thingy that mechanically resembles a post hole digger, scoops large rakes-full of oysters off the shallow oyster beds. They then separate them, toss back the small ones, and pack the keepers in burlap sacks kept wet in the cockpit. This is obviously very hard, back breaking work Joey has done since he was a boy; a trade he learned from his father.
Speaking of music, Joey is not only an expert Oyster Shucker, but he also fancies himself as a musician. So, imagine this: we and about 8 other people are sitting in the oyster bar enjoying good conversation, a couple dozen baked oysters with butter, parmesan cheese and chopped jalapenos, Joey’s super sauce, cold beers, and from out of nowhere, Joey stops shucking, picks up his guitar and starts singing songs he wrote as a boy. It just doesn’t get better than that. The music was simple and down to earth, soothing, and fun. Then this dude shows up driving a limo, and wearing a black leather jacket. His name is Captain G. He gets out and comes in with this adorable little girl all dressed in pink that he called “Angel”. He sat down next to us and started telling us stories about, “……back in the old days” while little Angel, between runs around the Oyster Bar, slurped fresh, raw oysters off saltine crackers. The whole thing was absolutely enchanting.
We had an absolutely fabulous time at Pier 98 Marina and I would highly recommend it as a stop. In the morning we moved over to Pearl Bayou, just across from Pier 98 Marina for a nice evening on the hook. It's a pretty spot right next to Tyndell Airforce Base. All afternoon, we watched as jet fighters took off and landed, along with the fuel tanker planes they were undoubtedly meeting somewhere out there for refueling practice. It was really loud. Interesting, though, how you see the plane first, and then you hear it. If you are not paying attention, you hear it, but by then, it is long gone.
Today, we will be heading around 35 miles over to Port St. Joe to rendezvous with other Loopers in an informal Winter Rendezvous hosted by Port St. Joe Marina. It should be interesting and a lot of fun. I’ll write more later as I am sure I will have more interesting stories to tell about the fascinating people we met and the informative things we learn about this thing we are doing called, “Cruising the Loop”.
Be well.
Another good read thanks Larry
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