On the Hook at Marco Island

[Hilde's log]

I mentioned in my last post that the radar had turned up its toes twice when we really needed it. After checking all there is to check on the boat, our last option was to send it off to the manufacturer, a job that required a rigger to get the dome off the mast and a car to take it to UPS to be mailed. After that...5-10 days before we can find out what’s wrong, then mailing time to get it back. As David said, we don’t desperately need it, but drat it, it’s only 10 months old and wasn’t cheap. It needs to get fixed and be worth the effort and the price.

So here we are, in limbo, also known as Old Factory anchorage off Marco Island. It’s a nice, protected anchorage and Rose Marina, where we come ashore, is staffed with really nice folks. For a $5 day use fee, we can tie up at the dinghy dock and avail ourselves of hot showers or a walk on the island. Because we are saving buckets of money by anchoring out (marina slips here are $100/night), we’ve decided that next week we’ll get a car for a couple of days and do some exploring. I’d still like to have lunch at the Rod and Gun Club in Everglades City.

 

All sorts of interesting historical and fictional tales around this place!

Meanwhile...we float. Fisherfolk are always out zooming around, and their wake lops the boat but also provides some entertainment. There are a number of other boats at anchor here, all on their way somewhere else. We met one nice couple who are sailing with two small children and a dog. They are young and beautiful and full of energy and it’s delightful to hear children’s voices across the water.

There’s not much to see on shore except lots of people and traffic and big suburban houses and beige colored storefronts. We rented a car for one day to provision and do laundry, and running those errands here was like running them in 1,000 other cities – if you got dropped on a street here, you’d have no clue you weren’t in Columbus or Dallas except perhaps for the plants.

David beside the biggest mimosa tree I have ever seen in my life.

Me beside a gumbo-limbo tree. They are everywhere down here and get mentioned a lot in the Doc Ford books.

I have no idea what this is, but it's gorgeous!

This area got hit hard by Irma and there are lots of roof and screened porch repairs in progress. I wouldn't like to have this job: 

 Roofers removing tiles from damaged house

We did find one maybe old neighborhood that hints at what may have been like here before the place was developed (photos below) and that one place is quite charming. We had lunch at Petit Soleil and the food was superb – worth the mile walk! 

"Old town" Marco.

The attraction at Marco seems to be the fishing and the beach. The marina stores lots of fishing-type boats and there are also flat bottomed boats for rent from the marina that look perfect for an afternoon on the water with a cooler and a couple of fishing rods. We’ve seen a couple of people venture out on small catamarans as well. There are big cruise-type vessels at the dock, at least one of which makes the trek from here to Key West (see video clip). There’s also a fake pirate ship that goes out a couple of times a day for a tour of the water.

Marco Island Express 

Pirate Ship Excursion 

So what do you do while you wait? David fixes whatever has recently broken (a constant on a boat) and I feed us and do dishes and make half-hearted gestures toward keeping the boat clean. We read a lot – this time out we have access to electronic library loans so we have our pick of books. That’s another reason to choose this anchorage – we have phone access! We watch TV at night, being able to stream via the phones. Every day or two we dinghy in to take the trash, walk the island, and take showers.

One day we passed an entertaining hour watching a fisherman clean his catch and throw the leftovers to a gaggle of pelicans that almost launched themselves off their perches each time he moved his hands (video below). The egrets showed up to help, squawking and pecking each other. Some of the guys feed the egrets from their hands at the bait shop early in the morning. The egrets show up and stand on the bait trough and the guys toss them the odd minnow. There’s a big flap whenever a fishing boat comes in, because the fishermen toss the unused bait fish and scraps from the cleaning to the birds.

Pelican bar Marco Island 

After a day's fishing - pelican mob 

Fingers crossed, we will be able to leave in two weeks or less, maybe. I am hoping the weather will stay warm and the sun will come out. So far, we have done a lot more sitting than we have done cruising. Crossed fingers for spring, which I hope shows up here in February, dire groundhog predictions or not.

Silver Sky, Silver Sea

[Hilde's log]

Silver sky and sea - hard to tell them apart. Unfortunately, we couldn't catch the light that shines on the surface of the sea and the sky alike.

 

We have finally popped the electrical umbilical cord and left Burnt Store. It was the usual circus leaving the dock – by the time we’d stowed, unplugged, untied, retied, pumped out, and shoved off it was almost 11 a.m., despite having been at it since 6. I’m pretty sure that just sitting at the dock kills brain cells that we need to get organized. At this age, we don’t have a huge surplus! 

 Bye bye Burnt Store

Our first stop was only about 22 miles from the marina and we therefore had enough daylight to get there despite our late start. Raven enjoyed her first perfect day of sailing since we left Kemah, spreading her sails in light winds and blue skies all the length of Charlotte Harbor. A fleet of marina racing sailboats kept us company (they were racing and we were pretending we were, too) and livened up the scenery all the way to the ICW. Sitting in the fresh air and watching the world go by refreshed our spirits as we lumbered along the Ditch, across wide Pine Island Sound, past Captiva Island. Our only tense moment was the passage under some scary high voltage towers that march across the water from the mainland to Sanibel. The height is easily 65 feet, but it's still scary...what if they measured badly...what if it's an unusually high tide...what if our mast sprouted overnight... Amazing the idiotic thoughts you can conjure to terrify yourself. We passed safely.

Because the wind changed direction from the weather predictions, as usual, we ended up in a somewhat open anchorage across from the Darling Nature Reserve off Sanibel Island about two miles from our planned anchorage. The night was flat calm and we slept the sleep of the fresh air drunkard.

Dawn saw us up and at ‘em and on the waterway by 7:30 a.m. We had a long day’s travel planned and texted back and forth with friends to find a good anchorage. One choice was up Gordon Pass in the canals that line the shore there, but we weren’t happy about anchoring among the condos. The weather forecast let us know we were in for maybe as much as a week of wind, and Florida condos have little tolerance for anchored boats that stay more than a day or two (long, ranting blog post possible, but avoided). Acquaintances had anchored at Old Factory at Marco Island, so that’s where we headed.

The soft, gray day spit light rain on Raven as she made her way up the Miserable Mile, so-called because it’s a very narrow, mile-long path, sliding along in a two and three knot current down the passage through scattered mangrove islands. I actually enjoy gray, wet days as long as the temperature is moderate. The moisture brings all sorts of “green” scents to my nose and rests my eyes. On land, I enjoy the gentler sounds that float toward me on the damp air, but when we’re motoring my ears are filled with the chug of the engine. Gray weather also puts a damper on boat traffic, which is a relief and feeds my boating fantasy of being all alone in a watery wilderness.

Hot lunch!!

Once out in San Carlos Bay and then in the Gulf, Raven crawled along the coast, passing the blanket of high-rises that line the shoreline of Florida as we passed Ft. Myers, Cape Coral, Naples, etc. The air was still and the sea flat, so we motored the entire way to Marco Island, enjoying the fact that it was so calm I could make us a hot lunch. Out on the water, a gray day turns silver in the sunlight and it’s hard to distinguish the sea from the horizon. Whenever there’s a break in the clouds the sun sparkles on the water, making a circle of gold glitter on the gray sea. But just when you think you’ve got it made….

Can't see anything? Me, either!

Fog. It closed in on Raven when I was at the wheel and David was trying to nap below. Visibility was cut to about three boat lengths (90 feet), the shoreline disappeared and, bad luck, the radar was down. We were socked in, although above us the sky was a clear, clean blue. I hated to wake David up, but I needed more eyes and quick! Boats can come out of nowhere in fog, and lots of boats are doing 15 knots and assuming other boats can see them on radar. David got our automatic fog alert to work and so every two minutes we let out a croaking blast. It gave us little comfort - could anyone actually hear us??. Being blind in fog is terrifying. Fervent prayers kept me calm and finally lifted the clouds after about 45 minutes. We are about ready to take the radar out and choke it to death. This is the second time it’s let us down. Not happy about that.

The AIS worked like a champ, for the boats that used it. We passed a barge at the entrance to Marco Island that did not have it – another stressful moment as we passed in front of the barge, down the channel to Old Factory anchorage, unable to call the vessel by name, guessing its speed and direction, etc. As a commercial vessel, the barge is supposed to have AIS. Oh, well.

View from the helm...peering for AIS signatures.

I think I might change the name of Old Factory Anchorage to Nightmare Anchorage for our bad choices and sleepless night. We were really tired by the time we came in, about an hour before dark, after a long 10 hour day of travel, and dropped the hook near some other boats. Our chart showed very shallow depth in the anchorage, even though I kept seeing 9-10 feet beneath us. We should have explored before dropping the hook, but made the bad decision to stop at the first likely place. Turned out we played dos-y-dos with another, unoccupied, sailboat when the wind shifted later that night, and had to leap out of the cabin in pajamas to reset the anchor. Then we were afraid we’d drag into the other boat, so ended up on anchor watch all night, me from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., and David from 2 a.m. onward.

Two crabby sailors greeted this morning with grunts and glowering looks at our dancing partner, and we were so tired that it took most of the day to figure out that we should call Tow Boat US for some local knowledge. Turns out our chart was completely off and there is plenty of depth here. So we pulled up the anchor and came much farther down the anchorage and now have plenty of room to swing. Hopefully, we will both get a good night’s rest tonight.

I hope we like it here, because it’s supposed to blow here the next two days (and maybe more) and blow like stink at Marathon for the next two weeks. Neither of us wants to leave or show up in stiff winds, especially since we don’t know if they will have a mooring ball for us. I guess the Lord is trying to teach us patience…? Or maybe just having mercy on our bank account. Free is a whole lot better than $800/month at a marina. Here's our spot, where we have reset the anchor. Now we can relax.

Old Factory Anchorage