Wednesday, February 23
Four days of sailing in a row! Woohoo!
Today's forecast was for dense morning fog to burn off by 10 AM, followed by partly sunny skies with southerly winds increasing from 3-8 to 8-13 knots. When we drove over the 65-foot bridge on our way to the boat we could see that it was hazy out on the bay, but visibility was good enough to see Gulf Breeze some four miles away. If the forecast was right, we might be in for some good sailing!
By the time we drove along the waterfront for our pre-sail reconnoiter, the visibility had dropped so that we couldn't see Gulf Breeze any more, and the wind was light—around 5 knots. Wind-wise it looked more like genoa than jib weather, but with the prospect of decreasing visibility, I decided to hank on the jib. Our genoa blocks the view to leeward, and if there was a possibility of sailing in reduced visibility, I didn't want the additional handicap of not being able to see around the genoa. So jib it was.
As we motored out the channel it was apparent that visibility had dropped even more. When
Dory's bow cleared the bayou entrance the visibility was down below 100 yards. One sailboat that had passed us motoring out the channel turned around and headed back to port, while another that we had seen leaving the bayou during our reconnoiter was now coming back in. As an old hand at sailing in Maine's pea-soup fog that is sometimes so thick you can't see the bow from the cockpit, this wimpy 100-yard visibility Florida fog didn't deter me, and we continued out the channel.
- 1300 — Bayou Chico daybeacon in thick fog
- IMG_4072.JPG (77.73 KiB) Viewed 1716 times
I rather like sailing in fog. There is something about the way your universe closes in to such a small area that I find comforting. Plus the routine of manually sounding the fog horn every two minutes, listening for other marine traffic, and having to concentrate more on the telltales and the little patch of water right around the boat for sailing and steering cues (instead of simply being able to set a course for a landmark on a distant shore) really focuses the mind.
We sailed on into the fog for half an hour, then the fog gradually lifted. Our universe expanded from a small sphere a hundred yards in diameter to several hundred, then a half-mile, then a mile. Soon we could see the shore of Gulf Breeze, low and gray in the haze across the water. And then suddenly it was sunny and clear with blue skies and fluffy white clouds.
- 1351 — Finally some sunshine!
- IMG_4085.JPG (132.15 KiB) Viewed 1716 times
When the sun burned the fog away it also seemed to burn most of the breeze away with it, and we lolled along at two knots, under-powered with the small jib. But it was sunny, we were making way, and the water was smooth. The fog had chased away all the zippy power boats that normally litter the water's surface with their wakes, and we were content to leave the sails as they were.
After a couple of hours of lazily beating our way to windward it was time to turn back. We pointed
Dory's bow for the bayou, set the whisker pole, and ran wing-and-wing back home.
By the time we reached the channel to the bayou the wind had gone quite light, and although
Dory maintained steerage way, we weren't moving very fast. Just as we approached the narrow entrance to the bayou the tug
Miss Elizabeth, pushing two big deck barges on her nose, popped out from around the corner. Usually tugs entering and exiting the bayou issue a
securite call so that other boats know they are coming, but
Miss Elizabeth apparently didn't this time, and we had a bit of excitement as I had to quickly tilt the outboard down into the water, start it up, and motor
Dory over to the very edge of the channel. Now I was glad that the fog had lifted, as that scenario would have been an entirely different matter in a thick fog.
- 1551 — We start the motor as a barge exits the bayou heading towards us
- IMG_4106.JPG (150.99 KiB) Viewed 1716 times
With the bubble of our peaceful little daysail thus popped, we dropped the sails and motored the last third of a mile back to the marina.
3 hours 16 minutes, 8.8 nautical miles under way.
Smooth sailing,
Jim
