Part One - Part Two

(Authors' note: Following a style begun with Chuck Leinweber in 2013, the two of us have collaborated on this article in the following way: Gary Blankenship wrote his account and then sent it to John Bell, who added in whatever comments he saw fit. Gary is in the regular type, John's additions are italicized.)

And then the Coast Guard floored us. An announcement came over Channel 16 that all participants in the Everglades Challenge should seek safe harbor because of deteriorating conditions. John and I looked at each other, baffled. Conditions were obviously not deteriorating, nor had the forecast for easing conditions changed. It was academic at that point because there was no good place for us to stop. We were at the point where the ICW heads a bit north of east across the northern end of Sarasota Bay and with the wind shift, we couldn't stay in the channel. So we headed south a bit early, knowing the worst that would happen is we would bump the kickup centerboard (which we did a couple miles down the bay). Joe Frohock, Puma, was alongside in his Classic Moth dinghy equipped with amas and a large sail, effortlessly surfing along and keeping up with the much larger Bandaloop.

We had left the first reef tied in for Sarasota Bay. I think we were both expecting a similar nasty chop as we had both experienced when we crossed it in 2012. It turned out to be a nice day, though. I was a little frustrated with our pace and we briefly hoisted the mizzen staysail to good effect. However the wind would not cooperate and went too much ahead of the beam to allow us to fly the big reaching sail for very long.

And then the Coast Guard floored us again. Another proclamation on channel 16 declared that the Everglades Challenge "regatta" was canceled and all participants should seek safe harbor. Conditions were even more benign than the earlier call and we were flummoxed. A radio call from another boater to the Coast Guard didn't clear things up. We could only hear the Coast Guard side of the conversation but it was obvious a non-EC boater had heard the call about the Challenge cancellation and was concerned about whether he, too, should head in. The Coast Guard radioman asked if he were part of the EC. The answer was obviously no, and the radioman then asked if he was in any distress. Again the answer was obviously no, and the radioman replied that the boater was free to proceed to his destination and "have a nice day."

My reaction to this exchange is not printable.

John and I looked at each other. If conditions were OK for other boaters, why were WaterTribers being ordered off the water? And why was the event cancelled? We called my wife, Helen, who was our shore contact and was monitoring the discussion forum on the WaterTribe website. She told us the race organizers had posted a message acknowledging the Coast Guard proclamation but adding the organizers were discussing the situation with the Coast Guard and hoping to get the decision changed. By now we were in southern Sarasota Bay and decided it would be prudent to at least make a brief stop so if the Coast Guard came calling, we would say we complied with their instruction. We looked at the Sarasota Sailing Squadron but decided against pausing there even in the moderating winds since it was a leeward shore. Instead we decided to pass under the two bridges in Sarasota, and then find a place to stop.  We poked around the west side of the Siesta Key bridge (where John spent the night in 2012) because there is a park there. But there was a bulkhead and other construction going on and no place to land, so we headed to a spoil island just to the south. We crossed paths with Puma and with the father-daughter team of James and Marissa Connell, (Sundance and BabySun) on their Hobie Tandem Island and discussed the situation. They decided to "pause" with us. We landed a few minutes past noon in the sunshine and pleasant breeze. The benign conditions were underscored by a few other kayaks on the island, paddled from the nearby shore by local residents.

Obeying Coast Guard orders, we stopped at a spoil island with Puma, Sundance, and BabySun to evaluate our "status." Note the "deteriorating" conditions.

We chatted with Puma and Sundance about the events of the day and confirmed our decision to go at least to the first Checkpoint at Cape Haze Marina near Placida - there was no other place we knew of to keep the boat while the car and trailer were retrieved, if indeed the EC was over. We weren't sure how long to stay at the island, but that issue got settled when we saw Bill Fite (Jarhead) sail by on his Sea Pearl. John blew his horn at Bill but he sailed unconcernedly on. A couple minutes later, John Wright passed by in Thang, also oblivious to our presence. That settled it. If they were going now, we were going now. So just before 1 p.m., we were back heading south on the ICW. In retrospect, we came to regret the stop, which wasted some prime sailing breeze. But it was also good for a laugh on us. Since we heard all the radio calls from Tampa Bay, we had worried about how John Wright was faring. He had been making some adjustments the previous day and also admitted to some tiredness. But here he was, doing just fine.


We did what the CG wanted: we got off the water and assessed our situation. Boat, seaworthy. Weather, benign. Crew, prepared. We were safe to continue. “Deteriorating conditions” my ass.

We shook out the reefs and continued. That 30-40 minute stop cost us a couple of hours getting into the next CP because the wind dropped so much before we finally got going again.

A few miles down the ICW there was fleet of Optimist dinghies racing around. I was quite taken aback with the stark contrast between the USCG’s dire pronouncements that it was too dangerous for Watertribe sailors and the sight of a group of 8 year olds in eight foot prams larking about on a lovely spring afternoon.

We stayed in company, or in sight of Karank and Puma as we traversed Little Sarasota Bay, Roberts Bay, three drawbridges, and various canals on the way to Venice. The wind had moderated a bit, but our speed still averaged more than four knots. I had had off and on bouts of queasiness since the launch, but after leaving the island, I managed to eat an apple and banana and swill some Gatorade, my first nourishment of the day - and it stayed down. We talked to Helen again and learned now that the organizers were acquiescing to the Coast Guard and this year's EC would "officially" end at the first checkpoint. 

At Venice, we turned east and tacked up the ICW toward the canal. An option was to go out the Venice Inlet and sail down outside to Stump Pass. In the ICW, we risked having the increasingly easterly winds blocked by the high sides of the canal. The outside offered better breezes, but also the likelihood of having to sail into Stump Pass in the dark and against a strong current. We chose the inside because I still wasn't feeling well. (Behind us, Karank went outside.) And sure enough, the winds continued to ease. We had to row against the current to clear the two bridges at the start of the canal, passing Puma who was having trouble stemming the tide under oars, and the fickle wind gave us only fitful progress afterwards. John rowed for a half an hour, then I rowed for half an hour, and John rowed for another 30 minutes.

One regret I had in the canal was when we passed Puma going under one of the bridges. The bridge blocked the wind and there was a pretty stiff foul current. Puma's crazy classic Moth cum-trimaran wasn't very easy to paddle and he had an awful time clearing that bridge. I really wished I'd offered to toss him a line and pull him through with us. It would have been near as no effort to me since Gary was rowing at the time. I mentioned this later to Gary and he opined Puma probably wouldn't have taken the line. He was probably right, but I still feel a little bad about it. We got passed by a bunch of kayaks in the canal. Bandaloop can be rowed, but she's not a fleet pulling boat. Gary said he thought his Oaracle would have rowed faster. I don't doubt that at all.


Gary also taught me something important that I had not really taken to heart in my previous three challenges. He is much quicker than I've ever been to get the oars out and pull for a little bit to the next puff of wind. I come from a more conventional sailboat racing background where rowing, sculling or paddling of any kind is expressly prohibited and will get you disqualified if not banned outright. Another thing conventional sailboat racing teaches you is the rich always get richer – that is the boats in front of the fleet always stretch out their lead over the boats in the back of the fleet. Front runners get the new breeze first, get the favorable shift first, and generally get better luck than the backmarkers. The EC actually encourages you to row, so if there's no wind, you better be quick to break out the oars and make your own breeze. Rowing half a mile versus drifting that same half a mile waiting for the breeze to fill in will more often than not translate into many miles and hours of lead in very short order. I'll definitely be much earlier to break out the oars in future challenges thanks to Gary's example.

I retook the oars and the slight breeze seem to be holding steady, so I curled up by the dodger at the forward end of the cockpit. I had eaten another apple and had some Gatorade when we entered the canal and I was feeling a bit shaky. I dozed and rested for 30 minutes. There was something I wanted to tell John, so I sat up and managed to say, "John," and then had to lunge for the side where I, um, "chummed" the Venice Canal. Oddly enough, all the nausea and queasiness immediately ceased and I was able to eat a granola bar and drink more fluid. It was the best I'd felt all day.

Gary jolting awake and lurching toward the rail scared the crap out of me. We later joked the only good news in all this was his stomach bug had never devolved into a “Code Brown” situation.

I was quite concerned about his health all day and begged and begged him to drink fluids. I was only a little worried about being too much of a nag, but I also never felt like he drank or ate enough all day. Gary was adamant that he was drinking enough, even though I knew better. The evidence was that I had availed myself of the P-bucket several times already and he had gone maybe once all day. (A small boat erases all shyness about personal space and bodily functions.) Next time I’ll be more forceful on enforcing nourishment and hydration. Over a long race, having the discipline to eat before you are hungry and drink before you are thirsty is essential. I’m not above lashing recalcitrant crew to a grate and giving them a few strokes with the cat o’nine tails if they don’t comply. (Not that I'm into S&M or anything. And no, I've not read 50 Shades of Gray.) I would expect my partner to enforce the same discipline on me, so all's fair.

The sun was setting and the wind, while still light, was at least steady now that we were in the wider part of the canal, entering Lemon Bay. We called Helen again and gave a pessimistic estimate of our checkpoint ETA which had the effect, after we hung up, of producing a noticeable increase in wind, bringing our speed up to three knots or a bit better. After the crawl through most of the canal, it felt lordly. I took over for John at the helm, and he had a chance to stretch out. It was fully dark and life became a progression of watching the flashing channel marker ahead, which marked the next turn in the ICW, checking the GPS chart to see if there was an unlit marker nearby, and using the LED Maglite to make sure we spotted and missed the unlit markers. The wind, perhaps doing penance for abandoning us earlier, picked up a bit more and we swished along at four knots. Finally, I felt like I was getting into the rhythm of the trip, leaving astern distractions of feeling unwell and the confusions with the Coast Guard. Concentrate on moving efficiently and missing the unlit markers, uninterrupted by smartphones, tablets, electronic messages every 30 seconds, and other modern purveyors of ADD. Don't worry about time. The wind picked up a bit more, and maybe backed a bit, and we did five knots as an orange, nearly full moon rose to port.

I have to laugh at myself a little here. All day I was constantly referring to my iPhone for updates on the race. It must have been a little off-putting watching me face down looking at that tiny screen all afternoon. Touche!

I should have enjoyed what we were doing more than I did. Concern about the fate of the challenge and also Gary's health was casting a pall over what was really perfectly lovely day for sailing with an agreeable companion. When we cleared Venice Canal and were rolling down Lemon Bay, we both pretty much knew the 15 or so miles to the CP was all there would be.  I think we both used that time to concentrate on enjoying what little we had left of this EC. I love sailing at night and the one we enjoyed that evening was most pleasurable. I only wished we could have had many more hours like those.

After a couple hours, John, who I think managed a little sleep, took over as we approached the checkpoint. The ICW narrowed to canal width again and we made our cut for the entrance to Cape Haze Marina. Somewhere, there is an obscure WaterTribe commandment that  “thou shalt ground on the shallow mud bottom bracketing the entrance”, and we were faithful in our observance. But we soon picked our way off and wound our way in. We docked at 10:30 pm, signed in, cleaned up, and joined the discussion about the events of the day.

I’m two for two on missing the turn into Cape Haze Marina. How this is possible, I don’t know seeing as how there is a Great Big Sign and a line of closely spaced channel markers showing the way in. One of these years, I’d like to arrive in daylight so I can be a little more certain I won't run aground. Such is my fate it probably wouldn't help. Besides, what's a little mud on an EC?

After our great start, we were the 50th boat to make it to CP1 at 10:29 pm. It was my personal best getting to first checkpoint, but there was a tinge of regret because it could have been so much better! Stopping for the CG warning, waiting for bridges to open and enduring the foul current and fluky winds in the Venice canal all conspired to slow us down. I was a little disappointed at the poor result after such a fast start.

Bandaloop in a slip at the Cape Haze Marina Sunday. We finished at 10:30 the previous night.

Dawn Patrol, a Core Sound 20, and Hare on Fire, a heavily modified Lightning, at Cape Haze. Always interesting boats to see in an EC.

John Wright working on Thang on Sunday. He had quite a trip, which I plan to tell in another story for Duckworks.

Marian Buszko (RockingBaby) and his Class 6 electric boat entry. Lots of solar panels, batteriies and wiring. Very carefully thought out.

Our EC was over. We correctly surmised that since we had filed a float plan, there was no reason we could not continue sailing, and eventually wind up at Key Largo. The second and third checkpoints would not be manned, and hence there would be no reason to stop there. There would be an informal lunch at Key Largo. But we elected to end our trip. There were a couple reasons. The most obvious is although the worst of my illness was over, I was still shaky. We didn't want to risk me getting dehydrated if I proved unable to eat and drink and perhaps became hypothermic in a remote location and have to call for help. (I don't think this would have happened, but it was another two days before I could eat somewhat normally and about a week before I felt completely well.) The second reason was related to the first. It was obvious that there were some issues between the Coast Guard and WaterTribe (which seem to be getting worked out). As John noted, any further interaction between a WaterTriber and the Coast Guard, even though the formal event was over, might complicate those issues.

I briefly considered going on alone, but realized it wasn’t the right decision. There’s a big difference in mental preparation to go solo compared to crewed and I wasn’t in the right mindset.  I was still nagged by the concern whatever Gary had was contagious and it would just not do to come down with the heaves offshore somewhere south of Sanibel. As Gary points out above, the overarching concern was we didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize future events by involving the Coast Guard. Last but not least, continuing alone would leave Gary at Placida with no way home. Stopping there was really the only choice we had.

So Sunday, our friend Pat Johnson drove John to Key Largo to pick up his car and trailer, and I kept an eye on the boat and recuperated. When John got back, we loaded up and headed to a motel for a hot shower and soft beds. Monday we headed home - already making plans for our 2016 Everglades Challenge, when John will be joined by Will Nye, (ZerotheHero) and Gary Sabitsch will cast his lot with me.

I’m really sorry we didn’t get to finish in 2015, but I would happily go with Gary again. He’s a great partner, a fine sailor, and an upbeat, fun guy to be around. There’s always another year. In the meantime I’ll be looking forward to crossing tacks with the two Garys aboard Oaracle in the 2016 event.

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