From mid-November to mid-December of 2013, Idle Queen was underway traveling between Cape Cod and North Carolina. Below is a video compilation from that trip. I now have a waterproof housing for my camera after missing lots of good action due to bad weather on that trip. I look forward to being able to film in all conditions this season.
Click here to watch the video on YouTube in a new window.
After leaving Martha’s Vineyard, Idle Queen’s bowsprit pointed across a glassy, starlit sea toward the Block Island Light, and later the powerful beacon at Montauk. After a couple of days spent waiting for strong headwinds to blow themselves out, we were left with nothing to stir the sea or fill the sails. Hourly trips to turn the grease cup that lubricates the drive shaft bearing provided a means to mark time on this passage as the engine droned away noisily. How since we passed Cuttyhunk Island? 5 turns of the grease cup I noted at one point. There were a few brilliant shooting stars that night, providing some excitement when they left trails glowing in the sky where they cut into the atmosphere. We carried a fair tide all the way to the Race, thanks to having picked a good departure time and to the engine for keeping the boat moving.
A meaningful amount of wind did not cross the deck until we were on Long Island Sound. I had decided to head up the Sound because a strong cold front was forecast to sweep southward before there was any chance of making it to shelter if we had headed to the south of Long Island, and there was no reason to be caught offshore in the forecast gale that was to follow.
We were hit by the first blast of southwest wind when we were just short of Oyster Bay. I had really hoped to make it to Port Washington, as it would have left us in a favorable position for continuing with a fair wind later. Once the wind built enough to leave Idle Queen overpowered with just a double-reefed mainsail and the staysail, I began to have second thoughts about making it to Port Washington. It’s only 15 miles. We have a fair current. We can make it.
It was not to be. Rain came with curtain of fog and blotted out an overtaking tow that I had been watching that was only at that point about a mile astern. We have no radar, and it wouldn’t have done us any good as we pitched and heeled anyway. If I couldn’t see the tugboat’s powerful running lights, they sure couldn’t see the feeble glow from mine. I estimated visibility at about 50 yards. Idle Queen may have been lost in the rain and sea clutter on the tugboat’s radar. Even though they should have passed almost a mile to our north, I didn’t want them worrying about where that sailboat went, so I tacked away to the south, putting us perpendicular to their course and any danger of collision. With visibility so bad, it was time to seek shelter, so I made for Oyster Bay, where we sheltered for an entire day from the howling wind.
When we headed out the next morning to try to make it through the East River and out to the Atlantic in order to continue south, the wind was down to about 30 knots out of the northwest. That, however, was enough to make it painfully slow to make it out of Oyster Bay. Idle Queen is not a powerful sailer to windward–her keel is shallow; she has high freeboard to hold her back; and her sails have assumed a very relaxed shape when compared to the nice foil shapes they had when they were new. We can’t power very quickly into a blow, either. The engine is reliable and in good condition, but it is small–we have less than 1.5 hp per ton of boat. Take a headwind and add a short chop, and the result is slow going for Idle Queen. It took almost four hours to claw the three miles to windward so that we could make the turn to continue west on Long Island Sound toward the East River. That put us way behind the tide, so we anchored near City Island to wait for the next ebb to flush us through the East River and down New York Harbor. We would do that leg at night.
After breaking the anchor out of the thick, oyster-studded mire at City Island, I stood in the cockpit and motored toward the Throgs Neck Bridge. My hands went numb after just a few minutes, despite doing my best to avoid exposing them to the below-freezing might air. I needed to frequently pull out my flashlight to check my position and verify the upcoming lights, and the switch on the flashlight was too small to push when my hands were in gloves. With the exception of a moment’s confusion near Riker’s Island (where a few channels come together), the trip went smoothly. With a fast-running fair current and many rocks lurking in the dark, it only takes a moment’s confusion for the boat to end up against something solid. Fortunately, I figured the marks out and avoided getting into shallow water.
We ran the gauntlet between ships, tows, ferries, and patrol craft and made it down New York Harbor to where it meets the sea at Ambrose Channel. There, I enjoyed the wide, well-marked channel with few background lights to confuse after the hectic hours in the East River and New York Harbor. The wind was fair and whipping, so I set the staysail. We sailed into the Atlantic and turned right, making 5 knots with very little canvas set.
Dawn found us well past Sandy Hook. As the wind lightened, I set first a double-reefed, and later the full mainsail. Progress was good, but the ride was bumpy, with Idle Queen bouncing uncomfortably down the 4-6 foot swells. We were moving well and my spirits were high, despite an uneasy stomach. Maybe it was that can of peaches I ate earlier. I shouldn’t have felt so queasy given the conditions.
Late that night, with the incredibly huge video screen of Atlantic City still visible, I finally had to give in to my body and void my stomach. I am not sure what caused me to get sick, but it took a few hours to get over. Probably something that I ate. Feeling a bit weak, and with the forecast calling for headwinds the next day, I decided to turn in to Cape May and head up the Delaware Bay.
We fueled up at Utsch’s Marina, where I spent a short while chatting with the owner about the weather and the declining state of the pleasure boating business. “Ten years ago, all of these marinas had more transients than they could handle,” he said, sweeping his hand through an arc past at least three other big marinas. “Now, we don’t have half the business we were doing back then.” He knew that he was part of a dwindling number of family-run marinas, and seemed to indicate that he could already imagine the day when he couldn’t make it pay anymore. I was thankful to have given him my business, though it was just a small fuel sale. We continued on our way with some helpful tips about the Delaware Bay and a free cup of coffee.
The fair tide carried us to the Upper Bay, where we anchored not far from a nuclear power plant. We were completely exposed, with miles of fetch in every direction, but the water was calm by this point. The whole trip from Cape May had, at the most, about 10 knots of wind, which was on the nose, of course. After the sun set, the water was glassy. It was wonderful to be able to catch a couple of hours of sleep before the tide turned once again and we continued on through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal at night.
Daybreak brought more headwinds. Fortunately, they were light and we were able to motor the rest of the way to Annapolis without ever having our speed over the ground fall much below 3 knots. Yeah, I am happy as long as the boat is at least moving at a good walking speed. We worked the shallows to avoid the flood tide, and stayed in deep water to get a push from the ebb. It was about 3 in the afternoon when we motored under the drawbridge to enter Spa Creek. It was time to take a break… The forecast called for freezing temperatures and gale-force winds.
It blew hard all day today, but the wind is tapering off now. With a couple of days rest and freshly-laundered clothes, we are again ready to continue our journey south. The current plan is to leave tomorrow morning and see how far we make it before the wind turns on us again.
A few photos from Marthas Vineyard follow:
Idle Queen will shortly be outbound from Hampton, VA, northbound to… as far as we can before the weather closes out on us. We are aiming for Rhode Island, but will stop in to New York harbor if we don’t make good time.
Planning on writing an update soon with pictures from the Dismal Swamp Canal. I also have some great video from that part of the trip, but haven’t had time to edit and format it yet. Looking forward to getting that up soon!
Sunday, August 4, Idle Queen finally sailed out of Oriental’s harbor. And I do mean “sailed”. The last errand to run in Oriental was to bring the boat in to the fuel dock to top off all of our tanks before heading out. I was planning to sail off from the dock, but a power boat came in just as we were finishing with fueling up, so I elected to motor out instead of keeping him waiting. Once clear of the dock, though, we put up sail and slowly gathered speed as we left the inner harbor.
The wind was blowing from the north, and turning to the northeast. This meant that the Neuse River was smooth as we sailed along a mile from shore. Unfortunately, this also meant that the wind would be against us once we turned the corner to head into Pamlico Sound. I had wanted to head up the sound to visit Manteo on the way north, but the wind stayed northeast, which would have been on the nose, making the decision to motor north on the ICW route an easy one. I have discovered that ol’ Idle Queen is not terribly fond of going to weather. We anchored for a day to try to invent storage solutions for a few troublesome pieces of gear, and get the depthsounder working.
Although I generally dread hours of motoring, I do enjoy the canals for their close views of the landscape. Smooth waters are a bonus. We still set sail at every opportunity and didn’t transit any of the legs between Oriental and Elizabeth City entirely under power. That didn’t do much for our speed, though. We met a fellow sailor in Elizabeth City on a 20′ Pacific Seacraft “Flicka” who was amazed that, #1- we were sailing in the cuts; and, #2- he was pulling away from us. Well, the wind isn’t all that consistent when surrounded by all those trees, but a fair breeze is a fair breeze.
There was plenty of wildlife to hold our interest and take our minds off the heat as we motored and sailed north to anchor up past Belhaven. The cuts were well-populated with birds, turtles, dragonflies, and loads of butterflies. I also enjoy looking at the trees along the banks of the canals. It is amazing to look at the size of some of the stumps that are all that remain of old cypress and juniper trees from long ago–those stumps are huge. The trees growing along the cuts today are just babies in comparison with the monsters that were cut down to leave stumps of six feet and more in diameter.
We sailed past Belhaven. Even though the promise of a free city dock was slightly tempting, we had a good breeze and made 10 more miles before anchoring in the dark just outside of the channel.
The next day, we arose early to start before the day heated up. Before leaving, I checked the engine over and pulled the zinc to have a look. It was not much more than mush. Hmm… Well past time to change it. I pulled a new pencil zinc from my stock only to discover that it was much too long and had to cut it down. I thought I had bought a half-dozen zincs of the correct size, but it was obvious that I hadn’t. At least I had something that would work. A few frustrating minutes with a hacksaw and some trial-and-error fitting had a new zinc anode in the engine. I tightened the alternator belt as well and we were soon underway. We made it a very long day, as the wind turned fair while we were in the canal. We sailed up the Alligator River, through the bridge, across Albermarle Sound, and up the Pasquotank River to anchor just a mile from the downtown waterfront of Elizabeth City. It was 0200 before we had the anchor down that morning.
Arising before the wind came up the next day, we motored down to the free city docks and backed Idle Queen in to one of the slips. We received a most friendly welcome from the assistant harbormaster and a couple of interested bystanders.
Our stay in Elizabeth City was delightful. We arrived only planning to stay for a day, but ended up staying for three. How could we leave, what with invitations to drive down to Edenton and Rocky Hock; head out to a mud boggin’ competition in Currituck; and let’s not forget the awesome farmer’s market on Saturday morning… Besides the personal connections, there are great services for boaters: free city docks; strong wifi; access to water; free loaner bikes; and access to nearby toilets. All of this is right in a beautifully maintained waterfront park just a short walk from restaurants, art galleries, and more. We made wonderful friends and memories during our brief stay in Elizabeth City and look forward to visiting again soon.
The past few weeks seem a blur, but the result of all the long days that have been put in is that Idle Queen is ready enough to start her voyage north.
In the past two months a lot was accomplished. First, Idle Queen was stripped bare of anything easily removable, scrubbed inside and out with vinegar and then bleach to cut down on the musty smell of long-term storage. We removed the disintegrating headliner that was falling down, insulation that was crumbling, and about 40 pounds of dirt from the bilges. Much of the interior was painted. New cushions were cut and covered with covers made from bed sheets. Personal effects were loaded aboard. Food was stowed. Gear was put aboard until there was no more room, and then more gear was loaded.
The boat is cluttered with gear that I hope to sell or trade. Mostly, it is things that I accumulated in trade for doing project work for other boaters. For the past year, I have had a “no charge” policy when doing work for others. Some people thanked me, some gave me money anyway, and some gave me gear. I have replaced many worn-out pieces of gear aboard Idle Queen, but still have much to get rid of. I am heading north with three steering-gears aboard, for instance.
I will be sure to post more soon, but for now, it is time to get going…
A year on the Contessa 26 was enough to convince me that I wanted a bit more boat. I was enjoying the minimalism, but the Contessa was a little too small for long-term living aboard, at least for me and all of the tools that I normally carry. I started casually looking around and found a William Atkin-designed “Ben Bow” named Sirocco. She was sturdy, reasonably roomy, and had a lean, low profile that I just couldn’t resist. She also had a full keel with a rather deep forefoot. This was the boat that finally sold me on full-keel boats.
At first I was a little apprehensive about how she would handle, but that fear was soon put to rest as I discovered how wonderfully predictable she was and what a joy to sail. True, she didn’t turn as tightly as a fin-keel boat, but the penalty in turning radius was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Also, I had not anticipated how her full keel, outboard rudder, and low freeboard up forward would combine to eliminate the tendency that so many other boats have for their bow blow away from the wind in an instant when stopped. Docking in a crosswind was now a much more controlled evolution. The same with singlehanded anchoring. Unless it was blowing a gale, I had plenty of time to stroll up the wide side decks and release the anchor after reaching my desired spot without the boat taking off across the wind. Backing was also improved over the cutaway-keel design, with the long keel making it easier to keep the boat tracking straight when desired.
There were other benefits not related to handling at low speeds and close quarters that were pleasant surprises. Tracking when under sail at sea was superb, and I could balance the boat to sail herself in most conditions, but I had expected that to be true. One thing that I had not considered was how the deep bilges, outboard rudder, and near-vertical sternpost combined to put the propeller in a location where I could reach it from the dinghy. What luxury to be able to keep the prop clean without having to dive under the boat! I suspect that I may have also been able to unwrap a line from the relative comfort of the dinghy, but I never picked up a line in the prop in all the miles that I sailed in Sirocco, probably thanks to the protection offered by her keel. Finally, and probably only due in part to the design of her keel, Sirocco was one of the most comfortable boats that I have ever taken to sea. Even though I am normally somewhat prone to seasickness when I first put to sea, I was never once seasick aboard Sirocco. That comfortable motion was a tremendously endearing characteristic of hers, but I have to also give credit to her other design attributes, including short overhangs, moderately slack bilges, relatively heavy displacement, moderate beam, etc., as contributing factors in that department.
Now that I am moving up to another boat, I again chose a full-keel design in the Dreadnought 32, Idle Queen. I am looking forward to continuing to enjoy the benefits of being able to inspect and reach the prop from my dinghy; having a boat that tracks well in a variety of conditions; not worrying about picking up lines and weed on the rudder and propeller; and having the option to comfortably dry out on a grid or beach if I ever need to. The full keel design has much to recommend it when choosing an underbody for a cruising sailboat.
Over the years that I have been sailing, I have logged miles on a number of different craft from an International Sabot up to a steel schooner of about 200 gross tons. Most of my time has been in small, shoal-draft centerboard sailboats up to about 20 feet long; racing keelboat designs like the J-29; and the few cruising sailboats that I have owned over the years. I benefitted from spending time in a broad variety of different sailboats by getting a taste of how different types of boats perform in various conditions. This has given me the opportunity to compare the merits of the different classes of boats.
When I was younger, I craved performance. I wanted nothing more than to just go as fast as possible on the water. My desire for speed eventually led me to become a windsurfing enthusiast, but that is a whole other story. During my high-school and college years I spent a lot of time in International, and then Collegiate 420’s, a two-person dinghy. I thought they were slow and longed to spend time in a more performance-oriented dinghy, even though the 420’s could easily plane and give a good ride when the whitecaps showed up. When I started sailing keelboats, it was mostly the smaller J-boats (24’s and 29’s, mostly), but there was time spent on numerous other designs. I loved the taste of performance multi-hull sailing that I experienced as fill-in crew aboard a Nacra 6.0. The boats that I sailed in my teens and twenties were mostly well-regarded classes that taught me what a fun, responsive boat felt like. They sailed well in a wide variety of conditions with good speed and few bad habits. There is a reason that the one-design dinghies and keelboats that I sailed in were such popular designs–they were good all-round boats.
When I finally had enough money to consider buying my own sailboat I began to consider all aspects of its use. I couldn’t really justify spending a ton of money on a boat that was only good for racing. By this time my sights were fixed on the far horizon rather than outright speed. I wanted to explore the world from the deck of my own sailboat, so I decided to look for a reliable design that could take me anywhere I wanted to go. What I ended up with was a Pearson Vanguard–a 32-foot racer/cruiser designed to the old Cruising Club of America rating rule.
Buying the Vanguard was a huge step for me in many ways. It was the first “big” boat that I had ever owned, it was my first home on the water, and it allowed me my first significant experience with something other than a centerboard or fin keel design.
The Vanguard has a “cutaway” keel with the rudder attached to the trailing edge. Looking at the profile of the boat, there is a lot of area that has been cut away, or hollowed out, making the deep part of the keel start a long way back from the bow. This is done in an effort to reduce the amount of boat in contact with the water, or wetted surface, to make the boat faster when the wind is light. This design achieves its intended goal of reducing wetted surface, but pays the price of introducing a couple of undesirable handling characteristics. The one that I remember most is how the bow would blow downwind when trying to maneuver at low speed. The high bow and long forward overhang on the Vanguard would catch the wind, turning the boat broadside to the wind very quickly. There was no underwater surface to counteract this tendency, and the rudder was way under the boat at the end of the shortened keel. This reduced the rudder’s effectiveness by giving it a shorter lever arm for turning the boat. Fin-keel boats don’t have a surface underwater up forward to stop the bow from blowing away from the wind either, but their rudders are placed farther back on the boat, which gives a stronger turning force and allows better control in low speed situations (especially in reverse) compared to the cutaway-keel boat.
On the positive side, I really came to appreciate some of the good qualities of the cutaway keel on the Vanguard. The keel on the Vanguard is molded with the boat as one unit. The shape transitions smoothly from the hull to the keel, which prevents the front part of the keel from loading up with seaweed when sailing–a real plus when there is a lot of weed in the water! The shape of the keel also helps reduce shock loads in some grounding situations, such as when running onto a sloped sandbar. Not having a long fin keel sticking out of the boat also reduces structural loads when running aground–in particular eliminating the point-loading at the trailing edge of the fin keel that can cause it to push up into the hull and cause a lot of damage. Having the rudder attached to the trailing edge of the keel helps prevent seaweed, lobster and crab pot floats, and other fishing gear from getting trapped on the rudder. The keel shields the propeller as well. I never once had a pot or fishing line caught on my Vanguard, though I often sailed in waters thick with fishing gear. Besides making my life easier, fishermen don’t exactly appreciate having yachtsmen cut their floats from props and rudders, either…
A cutaway-keel boat tracks better than a fin-keel boat. The Vanguard didn’t need constant, minute attention to the helm. I could count on her to track well if I needed to adjust a sheet or otherwise divert my attention for a moment. This is a great characteristic to have in a cruising boat. I could balance the boat and let her sail herself for a while if I needed to go forward to attend something or use the head. I have had some luck locking the helm down on a fin-keel boat to keep them going straight for a short while, but this technique is not as effective as when used on a cutaway-keel boat or a full-keel boat.
Overall, the cutaway-keel Vanguard was a surprisingly enjoyable boat. I didn’t feel too handicapped by the speed penalty that I paid for the extra wetted surface of the cutaway full keel. She still had good speed even in light airs, and offered a more comfortable motion than most fin-keel boats that I have been on. The comfort was due in part to her keel design, but also because the Vanguard was heavier, deeper, lower in freeboard, and had a more moderate beam than the other cruising sailboats that I had experienced. I don’t want to contribute to the myth that there aren’t any comfortable fin-keel boats out there! Those boats do exist. They are just more difficult to find (it’s not fashionable to build relatively narrow boats with easy bilge sections these days) and still won’t offer the other advantages of a keel with an attached rudder, like weed-shedding, or a rudder that doesn’t rely solely on the stock for attachment to the boat…
When I went searching for a small, versatile cruiser a few years ago I settled on the Contessa 26. This design is based on an older design than the Vanguard, and has a much longer cutaway keel. It is getting pretty close to a full keel, but still has a concave shape to the forward end. The longer keel eliminated some of the poor handling characteristics of the more dramatically cut-away keel on the Vanguard. Having a longer keel gave the rudder a longer lever arm and actually improved steering, even though there was a much longer keel to drag through tight turns. She tracked like a dream and worked very well with her self-steering gear in all conditions. I loved sailing this boat. The Contessa 26 design was close enough to a proper, old-school full-keel boat that it seemed only a small leap to go all the way to a full-keel the next time that I went boat shopping…
Here are another couple of videos from when I was sailing my Contessa 26, Cavendysh, on the Great Lakes in October of 2010. These two were taken on Lake Michigan while sailing upwind under a double-reefed mainsail and small (85%) jib. I haven’t started trying to edit the videos yet, so there is no fancy soundtrack or anything–just me talking to the camera while sailing alone in a small boat on a big body of water…
We are now well into 2013 and I hope that the new year is off to a great start for you.
I left off quite a while ago here with pulling Sirocco for a bit of a freshen-up and routine maintenance. Quite a lot has happened since then! I will get busy filling things in soon, but first wanted to try sharing some videos from my trip so far. I will put links to the new videos here on the blog, starting with this one from the first day of my trip out of the Great Lakes in 2010 aboard Cavendysh.
This first video was taken not long after leaving Dunkirk with a forecast nor’easter bearing down on Lake Erie. I was in high spirits while taking this video, as we were making great speed and the lake was still pretty flat. We made good time–covering 129 miles that first day out in up to near gale-force winds. My stomach definitely protested the boisterous conditions when it got windy and rough overnight.
I left Garden Key at dawn in hopes of making Key West with some daylight remaining. There was a 15-knot southerly breeze blowing through the anchorage carrying the promise of a fast passage. I set the #3 genoa and full main and sailed off the anchor, following the eastern passage that I had seen the ferry taking the past few days. It looked shallow, but there was over 6 feet of water all the way through. Three other sailboats left that morning, and every one of them took the other channel, which is fair enough since the chart shows a shoal all the way across the path that I took. If I hadn’t been there observing the channel for a few days I would have chickened out and went out the way that I came in. I got a wave and a thumbs-up from one of the construction crew that was restoring the walls of Fort Jefferson as I went by.
The seas were a bit confused once I got out from behind the protection of the fringing reefs of the Dry Tortugas, but I still made very good time, mostly averaging around 5 knots. I had 70 miles to cover, so I was at about the minimum speed that I needed to make landfall before dark. I thought that I could pick up a good push from the Gulf Stream on the outside and was tempted to go that way, but the confused seas were making me sick and that was the determining factor that caused me to choose to sail north of the Marquesas Keys and enter Key West harbor from the north. The water would be smooth with the low islands and reefs to break the sea, but I was afraid that I was going to slow down.
I didn’t need to worry about my speed. The wind kept picking up through the afternoon and I soon found myself close reaching with a single-reefed main and looking for even less sail. Around 1500 I tucked in the second reef into the main and started thinking about changing down to the working jib. My speed stayed in the 6-knot range all day, which is moving right along for a Contessa 26. I let the windvane do all of the steering while I kept watch from the companionway trying to stay out of the sun as much as possible.
The entrance to the Northwest Channel to Key West harbor came into view in good time. I hardened up and was almost able to make a straight shot right into the harbor, but a little oscillation in the wind at a bad time forced me to make a couple of quick tacks–no big deal for the agile little Contessa. The wind dropped as I closed the harbor, but I kept the main reefed down to make the boat easier to handle and keep my speed down when I entered the anchorage.
I sailed deep into the mooring field to the west of Wisteria Island looking for somewhere to anchor because it was the first obvious place that I saw and from a distance I thought that there were boats anchored there. While sailing between the boats it was obvious that they were all on moorings and there was no good place to drop the hook, so I worked my way around the south of Tank Island to the turning basin just opposite from the Coast Guard base. There I found room to anchor between some other widely-spaced sailboats who had dropped their hooks in about 5-9 feet of water. While exploring the edges of the available anchorage I ran gently aground just north of the green “27” daymark. It gets shallow quickly there! It took just a minute to sail free, as I had been able to turn the boat towards deeper water before she stopped. I went back and found a spot to anchor in 8 feet of water about midway between the “27” and the southern tip of Wisteria Island with about 20 minutes of light remaining to tidy the decks.
What an uncomfortable anchorage! One of the biggest hits against Key West in my mind is the lack of a good anchorage. My spot off of Wisteria Island had decent holding because I was able to drop my anchor on a sandy spot amongst all of the weed on the bottom, and it was adequately protected from the forecast easterly winds, even though they could kick up a chop across the fetch of the turning basin. The tide runs through here at about a knot, so my boat was often sailing against the rode when the wind lined up with the current–a problem remedied by using a second anchor. There were manmade downsides to that particular anchorage, such as powerboats that cut between the anchored boats in that area at all hours. They would kick up a wake, which I could live with, but the high speeds at which they came barreling by just feet from my boat made me nervous, especially when I saw others swimming from their anchored boats. Occasional fleets of up to 24 (the most I counted one morning) waverunners would do the same thing. The seven-tenths of a mile row in to the dinghy dock could be treacherous with all of the wakes kicked up from the sportfishers who plow their way out of the harbor at speeds carefully gaged to keep them from fully planing out so that they throw an impressive half-throttle wake. Use of the dinghy dock in Key West Bight Marina costs $5 per day, with discounts for weekly or monthly passes. I dinghy-pooled with a neighbor, which halved the cost for both of us.
On the third morning that I was anchored in Key West some strong thunderstorms moved in. With the weather radio warning of strong winds I kept an eye on the developing clouds. I still had quite fresh memories of the squall that came through while I was out at the Dry Tortugas, and while I held with no problems out there I am of course always wary of strong winds when I am on the hook. The clouds kept developing and soon I saw a funnel form below one of them. A few minutes later a second funnel appeared. They were off in the distance, but a good sign of the strength of that particular storm. I decided to set a second anchor–a 33 lb (15 kg) Rocna–just to be sure that I stayed put if caught in a strong wind from the storms in the area. I set to work and soon had the anchor ready to deploy. I started the engine and was ready to lay the anchor out when I remembered my camera and took the picture above. About 5 minutes later I had the new anchor laid out in a direction that would hold Cavendysh in deep water if the wind switched onshore. Having the two anchors also meant that I had some degree of mobility and redundancy without actually having to get underway if one of the neighbors started dragging my direction.
The strong wind didn’t materialize, but I was glad that I had put out the extra gear anyway so that I didn’t have to worry about how I was swinging when the tide or wind changed.