{"id":100,"date":"2011-08-07T19:20:08","date_gmt":"2011-08-07T23:20:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/?p=100"},"modified":"2013-02-27T14:05:24","modified_gmt":"2013-02-27T18:05:24","slug":"finding-sirocco","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/2011\/08\/07\/finding-sirocco\/","title":{"rendered":"Finding Sirocco"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\"Sirocco\"<\/a>
Sirocco at anchor in Oriental, NC<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

–So there I was (all good stories start this way, right?) in Jacksonville one night looking at boats on the Internet with my brother. \u00a0We both have this addiction and were feeding it well into the wee hours–talking and dreaming. \u00a0On a whim I decided to do some searching just to see what kind of deals were available down in the Keys, as we had been talking about all of the derelict boats and people down there and how there are some very good deals to be had if a boat comes up for sale before it is totally destroyed by the combination of neglect and tropical sun that destroys boats and dreams in warm ports. \u00a0People sail to the tropics to relax, but once there they can easily succumb to the ma\u00f1ana syndrome where nothing ever gets done. \u00a0They then wither and wrinkle under the hot sun, medicating themselves at the bar every evening while their boats grow barnacles and the varnish peels. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

I found an advertisement for a fiberglass William Atkin cutter that looked interesting. \u00a0I immediately assumed it to be one of the derelicts, as the asking price was low and there was a “must sell quickly” line in the ad. I told my brother that this was a good example of a boat that was probably already beyond saving.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n

But, my interest had been piqued because it was on the lines of something that I had been thinking of for a while–namely something with a little more elbow room than\u00a0Cavendysh<\/em>, my 25.5-foot-long Contessa 26. \u00a0Life aboard the little Contessa was starting to feel like camping. \u00a0OK, it had always felt like camping, but it had begun to wear on me in the hundreds of miles between Goodland and Jacksonville–the constant need to step on the dinghy; the fact that the sails are stowed on the head (toilet); and that I could never find even one thing without moving ten others. \u00a0What really got me to thinking about a change was a waterspout in Key West. \u00a0I decided to put out an extra anchor for insurance against the strong winds, and my extra anchors are all stored in the hanging locker opposite the toilet because the cockpit lockers are too small to fit the anchor through the openings. \u00a0I had enough time to set the extra anchor that day, but in a\u00a0real<\/em>\u00a0emergency… \u00a0Well, the little Contessa just isn’t set up for things like that to happen and can’t be easily changed without major surgery.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

A little more casual research on the web that night turned up an old listing with a broker for a boat of the same description as the free ad that I had found. \u00a0Hmmm… \u00a0This seemed a little more legitimate, since brokers usually won’t take the real basket-cases. \u00a0There were pictures and the boat didn’t look too bad, so I decided to call the number listed in the free ad, since that is where I first found the boat, and maybe it had been de-listed. \u00a0The next morning I left a message and decided that if the guy called me back that it would be a good excuse for a drive down to the Keys.<\/span><\/div>\n
The owner of the boat called back a short while later and sounded sane on the phone. \u00a0He wanted to sell the boat to raise money for a business venture that he wanted to go into. \u00a0He sounded knowledgeable about the boat and had bought her while working in a boatyard. \u00a0I made arrangements to see the boat with him thinking it would be a fun, spontaneous weekend drive. \u00a0Oh yeah, the owner of the boat was staying with a friend who lives a few hundred miles away from the boat and he would need a ride down to the boat so that he could show it to me. \u00a0No problem–I could pick him up on the way. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I found a compact rental car (cheaper than driving my brother’s truck 1000 miles at 17 mpg!) and was soon heading south on I-95. \u00a0I met the boat owner in a Wal-Mart parking lot just off of the highway. \u00a0We had plenty of time to get acquainted during the next 6 hours. \u00a0He had bought the boat to live on while working at a boatyard, and had sailed it south for the winter a couple of times, following the seasonal migration of the group of boaters know as the “snowbirds”. \u00a0But, it takes a lot of time to move the boat 3500 miles each year and he was tired of it, so he was looking to move out to Colorado for a drastic change of pace. \u00a0There, he would go to work with a partner (the guy who dropped him off at Wal-Mart) making decorative steel holders for clay pots for houseplants. \u00a0The partner had patented a design and sales seemed good at local home shows. \u00a0He showed me a couple of pictures of the pot holders on his cell-phone. \u00a0We passed the rest of the time talking about the boat, motorcycles, and work. \u00a0The owner had a strong feeling that I was the right person for the boat. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
We arrived at the backwater marina in Boot Key harbor at about 2230 to find the 5 of the neighbors out drinking on the dock. \u00a0Sirocco<\/em>‘s owner (who I shall refer to as “T” from here on)\u00a0was immediately welcomed back with offers of cold beer and a reminder that he hadn’t finished a painting job that he had started on a powerboat nearby, the owner of which was becoming impatient. \u00a0T would address that tomorrow, he said. \u00a0I could see parts of the unfinished project on the dock and in the grass… \u00a0The sailboat looked pretty good from the dock, though. \u00a0It sat very low in the water and had awnings to keep some of the sun off–an indication that T had cared for her. \u00a0The boat looked every bit an old, salty design that had been well taken care of at some point in the past, but had recently fallen on hard times. \u00a0We sat on the dock talking with the neighbors for a few hours. \u00a0T enjoyed a few rounds with the neighbors while I listened to the conversation. \u00a0Everyone sat around for another hour or so before the gathering began to melt away. \u00a0T was energetic, though, and got out his guitar. \u00a0We sat on the dock and played until almost 0300, at which time I said that I would have to get some sleep for the drive back the next day.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0“No problem, man. \u00a0No problem. \u00a0You just crash and I’ll tidy up the boat so we can sail in the morning.” \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“OK T. \u00a0I’ll sleep up forward. \u00a0Wake me when you’re ready.” \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Roger that.”<\/span><\/div>\n
T woke me at 0330. \u00a0He was ready to go. \u00a0I thought, “Well, what’s the worst that can happen?” and got out of bed. \u00a0I poked my head out of the hatch into the breezy, humid night air and surveyed the thunderstorms all around us. \u00a0The engine was running minutes later and we soon loosened the lines and pulled out of the slip. \u00a0We unrolled the yankee (forward sail) and cut the engine as soon as we were past the pilings. \u00a0I had the helm, but no knowledge of the harbor.<\/span><\/div>\n
“That’s OK. \u00a0No problem, man. \u00a0I’ll talk you out. \u00a0Just stay close to the pilings. \u00a0You know, close, but not too close. \u00a0Not too far away either. \u00a0We’re good, we’re good.” \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I couldn’t see much other than the lights on shore–the sail blocked my view forward, and it was dark. \u00a0There was no moon because of the overcast sky. \u00a0The only other light came from occasional lightning in some not-too-distant thunderheads. \u00a0We followed the row of pilings closely, but not too close. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“OK, man. \u00a0OK, I’m going to set the main. \u00a0I don’t know if we are going to have room, but when we are past the pilings I’ll pull up the main. \u00a0Try to turn into the wind. \u00a0I don’t know if there is room. \u00a0We’re good. \u00a0We’re good. \u00a0Nah, I’ll hoist it downwind. \u00a0We have to turn to starboard up here–hard to starboard. \u00a0There is that mark over there (points into the dark) that we have to leave close to starboard. \u00a0Close, but not too close.” \u00a0At this point T went forward to loosen the sail gaskets. \u00a0After struggling for a few seconds with the first one he returned to the cockpit and grabbed a knife. \u00a0He then went back to the sail and cut the gaskets free. \u00a0That loosened the sail so it fell all over the deck, leaving me with only a view of billowing dacron. \u00a0“Ok, turn to starboard. \u00a0Hard to starboard. \u00a0Hard to starboard.”<\/span><\/div>\n
I could see boats up ahead and figured that we were turning into the next section of a mooring field. \u00a0Soon, though I felt the boat get sluggish as she touched the mud bottom. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“Which way, T? \u00a0We’re out of water!”<\/span><\/div>\n
“Hard to starboard, you’ve go to follow it around…(boat stops dead) Where’s the mark? \u00a0No, we’re past the past the mark. \u00a0Hard to port. \u00a0Hard to port.”<\/span><\/div>\n
“We’re aground”<\/span><\/div>\n
“You’ve got to go hard to port.”<\/span><\/div>\n
“We’re not going anywhere”.<\/span><\/div>\n
“We got to go hard to port. \u00a0I’ll set the main. \u00a0It will blow us right off.” \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“What’s the tide doing, T?”<\/span><\/div>\n
Now, at this point, the sail was pulling us farther onto the shoal, so I knew that setting the main was a bad idea, but there was little harm we could do in the mud besides get more stuck, so I helped put the sail up. \u00a0Once it was drawing, T came back to the cockpit to see how things were looking. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
” I said hard to port, man. \u00a0See? \u00a0we’re past the marker.” \u00a0I got a flashlight and could indeed see a marker, but still couldn’t tell where the channel went from there. \u00a0I shone the light into the water and could see grass waving not far below the surface. \u00a0The only deep water was behind us. \u00a0“Hard to port, man. \u00a0Hard to port”, T continued.<\/span><\/div>\n
At this point T took the tiller. \u00a0After a few minutes of sailing the motionless boat intently and finally realizing that we were properly stuck, he decided to start the engine. \u00a0The next minutes were spent shifting the engine forward and astern; revving and idling, and all the while going nowhere and mostly using the engine to pull against the still-set sail. \u00a0T cracked a fresh beer.<\/span><\/div>\n
“What’s the tide doing, T?”, I asked. \u00a0Eventually I got him to agree to take the mainsail down and find me a GPS so I could check the tide. \u00a0Luckily, we had grounded near low water and would eventually float free if we didn’t drive ourselves too hard into the mud. \u00a0Another 15 minutes later I convinced him to roll up the yankee, which was still pulling us onto the shoal. \u00a0T continued to rev the engine and drive the boat first forward and then in reverse, carefully watching our progress against some landmark unseen to me. \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
“She’s moving. \u00a0She wants to float free. \u00a0She’s moving. \u00a0Just a little more. \u00a0We just got to get her turned. \u00a0Hard to port. \u00a0Hard to port.”<\/span><\/div>\n
I sat in the cockpit and waited for the tide to come up. \u00a0I thought of taking a nap, but T was constantly talking. \u00a0After a while I convinced him to shut off the engine, turn on the radio, and wait a while. \u00a0He cranked some tunes and returned with a fresh beer. \u00a0We talked for a while and T kept returning to the fact that we had to turn hard to port. \u00a0We located the rest of the unlit channel markers with a flashlight and I finally had a good idea of where we were. \u00a0The only way to deep water was straight backwards, as we had grounded at almost 90 degrees to the channel. \u00a0That would be easy enough when the water came back up.<\/span><\/div>\n
Another half-hour passed before I could feel the boat starting to rock with the little waves in the harbor. \u00a0T started the engine and went to spot the channel markers. \u00a0I drove for a little while and we eventually worked the boat free in reverse. \u00a0Once we were floating I gave the helm to T and went to spot markers. \u00a0T put it in forward and turned hard to port, but we were still too close to the edge of the channel. \u00a0We went back aground. \u00a0More waiting. \u00a0This time we were more parallel to the channel and after T gave up trying to power us off I was able to rock the boat forward and get us free again. \u00a0I gave the helm back to T and this time we stayed in deep water. \u00a0I went to spot markers with a light.<\/span><\/div>\n
“Red marker? \u00a0Where are you, red?” \u00a0T called out. \u00a0I lit the red with my flashlight. \u00a0“Thank you, red.” \u00a0It continued like this the rest of the way out of the harbor. \u00a0Near the harbor mouth we passed an old man sitting on a dock beneath some florescent lights. \u00a0It was about 0500. \u00a0T called out to the man and asked if his store was open, even though it seemed too early on a Sunday morning. \u00a0The man said to check back later. \u00a0“We’ll be back for some beers when you’re open,” T replied. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\"Moored<\/a>
After the wind calmed at Sombrero Key Reef<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

We got out of the harbor without further incident and set the sails again. \u00a0The wind was strong, and there were some thunderstorms around. \u00a0It was obvious that we were going to have more wind as we went farther from land. \u00a0T wanted to sail out to a reef about 6 miles offshore and tie up to a mooring ball out there. \u00a0He went below for another cold one while I steered us towards the reef. \u00a0At least we were finally in waters familiar to me! \u00a0I had been past here two weeks before in\u00a0Cavendysh<\/em>\u00a0and anchored right where we were now passing. \u00a0As soon as we cleared the point of Boot Key, the wind came on full-force–about 25 knots. \u00a0We were overpowered with all sail set and T soon went forward to pull down a reef while I steered. \u00a0The boat felt heavy in the short chop, and moved along at a good speed. \u00a0As soon as the first reef was in the main and we had rolled up the yankee some, the wind increased to 30 knots and we were again overpowered, but we continued on because it was only a few miles. \u00a0One of the thunderstorms overtook us and we were soaked in seconds in a driving rain. \u00a0I gave the helm to T and sought cover, shivering, beneath the dodger. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

We approached the mooring soon after the false dawn after some confusion about where the lit tower was (hidden in a rain shower) and struck the sails to pick up the mooring under power. \u00a0T drove while I went forward with a line and a boathook. \u00a0We approached the moorings, which were bobbing around on 3-4 foot waves, and T carefully lined us up with the one that he wanted to pick up and turned us into the wind. \u00a0I pointed at the mooring with the boathook and T carefully, slowly brought us to within 25 feet of the tossing float. \u00a0Very slowly, we inched forward. \u00a0Very slowly. \u00a0We sat out there for several minutes within 15 feet of the ball. \u00a0It was just out of reach and we were holding station (not getting closer). \u00a0I looked back at T–lots of concentration back there. \u00a0I could almost see an aura of focused effort radiating from the cockpit. \u00a0He was doing his best through what I was pretty sure was a pretty good buzz at this point. \u00a0We held station perfectly in the sloppy chop. \u00a0Finally, he pushed us forward all at once. \u00a0I caught the mooring ball with the boathook, but the boat was pushed back by the strong wind before I could get a line secured. \u00a0We came forward again and I was successful in looping a line through the top of of the mooring ball. \u00a0I got the line through and was getting it cleated when T came forward to help. \u00a0He got his hand pinched between the line and the chock somehow as he helped to pull it in. \u00a0I could see a little blood on the fingers on his left hand, but it didn’t look too bad, so I didn’t say anything.<\/span><\/div>\n
Now that we were tied up we both went below to get some sleep. \u00a0I went forward while T slept on a settee in the main cabin. \u00a0I would have rather not been up forward because it was a bit rough out, but I was comfortable enough to sleep thanks to Sirocco<\/em>‘s\u00a0easy motion. \u00a0I would not have been able to stay forward on my Contessa in those conditions, for sure! \u00a0Soon I heard a revving propeller nearby. \u00a0Some boat had come by to check on us and ask if we needed assistance–a center-cockpit boat about 21-23 feet long crewed by three men in full orange survival suits. \u00a0They looked official, but I didn’t see any markings on the boat. \u00a0They weren’t fishing, that’s for sure. \u00a0They must have thought that anyone out there in those conditions was having trouble. \u00a0T assured them that we were OK and they left.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\"Sirocco<\/a>
Stopping for some beer and cigarettes after the test sail.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

We prepared to head back in not long after the visit by the men in orange suits. \u00a0This time we didn’t put up the mainsail, as it was still plenty windy out, even though it was calmer than on the ride out. \u00a0The ride back was uneventful. \u00a0T kept telling me how he felt that I was the right person for the boat\u00a0and what a good boat she is. \u00a0We did stop for cigarettes and beer at the store we had passed earlier. \u00a0T expertly backed the boat into her place in the marina. \u00a0We were moored in the slip just after noon. \u00a0I poked around the boat for the next couple of hours–inspecting all of the lockers and systems. \u00a0I found only little problems: nothing horrible, though neglect was taking its’ toll. \u00a0The engine was dirty, but ran well. \u00a0I had arrived prepared to make an offer, but now wasn’t so sure. \u00a0I would be giving up some of the simplicity of the Contessa and had to think about what I really wanted to do next. \u00a0I thanked T, gave him a ride to McDonald’s so he could grab some lunch, and then headed home. \u00a0The drive back took almost 12 hours because of all of the traffic leaving the Keys on Sunday afternoon.<\/span><\/div>\n
Well, I ended up buying that boat and am glad that I did! \u00a0Now for the real adventure!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\"Sirocco<\/a>
Sirocco back in her slip after the test sail. This is how she looked as I left her to head back to my other boat back in Jacksonville, FL.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

–So there I was (all good stories start this way, right?) in Jacksonville one night looking at boats on the Internet with my brother. \u00a0We both have this addiction and were feeding it well into the wee hours–talking and dreaming. \u00a0On a whim I decided to do some searching just to see what kind of… Continue reading Finding Sirocco<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[12,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-100","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sirocco","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6ztFW-1C","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=100"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":364,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions\/364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=100"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=100"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/setforsea.com\/barrystravels\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=100"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}