There have been more than a few sea trials in our ocean-going, five year history with the good ship Let's Dance. Weather incidents, mechanical mishaps, computer snafus, and even the occasional personal gaffe. To date, however, none of these trials has resulted in a plank walk. There have been moments, though, when limits, and tempers, were stretched taut.
A sea trial usually has nothing to do with justice on the high seas, and everything to do with mechanical viability. It consists of a series of tests and checks of marine systems to make certain that all elements are in excellent working order under normal sea conditions. Let's Dance recently underwent a sea trial so her newly refurbished hydraulic thrusters, as well as her often irritable stabilizers, could be pronounced seaworthy. Seasoned professionals put her through her marine paces and all systems were rated GO! She passed with colors flying!
So, it was with more than a bit of chagrin that Captain Bill sensed a little sluggishness in her gait about two hours into our most recent voyage from West Palm Beach home to Charleston. Our fuel usage registered an alarming 3.8 gallons per hour and the load on the faithful old Lugger engine registered over 55%! Now, this may not sound like a problem to you, but our chief engineer (that would be Bill) thought it might indicate a rather severe case of fuel starvation. Oh! Prudently, we turn our bow and head back towards the south Florida coast.
We opt to drop the hook at the edge of the big turning basin just inside the Lake Worth jetties rather than returning to the marina to diagnose the problem. Clogged filters might cause fuel starvation. So, once securely anchored, Bill dons his mechanic's hat and descends into the engine room to change the fuel and the Racor filters. Hot work!
Another possible cause for the overworked engine occurs to us......well, really just to Bill. There could be some foreign object wrapped around the prop, causing the little Lugger engine to try too hard. We anchor again and Bill prepares to go in for a look under the hull. With mask, snorkel and metal scraping tool, he hops off the swim ladder at the stern into water that is both cloudy and swift. He is back up almost immediately asking for his fins. The tide is ebbing, and the current in the turning basin is running at about three knots. That is fast and I decide to toss a floating dock line into the flow......perhaps Bill can grab it and tow himself back to the boat if the current gets too strong for him to fight, even wearing his trusty fins.
Luckily, he is a strong paddler and does not need the line to hold his place below the hull. He comes up with the news that the prop is clear of obstructions, but that it, and all of the underwater metal running gear, is densely barnacle-encrusted. Off-white, nickel-sized critters have been colonizing below the waterline since the hull was last scrubbed clean only a month ago. Yikes, they spread quickly! And they are stubborn, crusty and sharp! Bill is able to scrape them from the propeller and drive shaft, but incurs some bloody scratches of his own in the process.
We run another sea trial, following a towering cruise liner, the "Bahama Grand Celebration", with her partying passengers, out through the jetties. Again. Yes! This is good! The WOT test now yields a top rpm of 2350 and Let's Dance is back in fighting form once again. Great work, Captain Bill, and sharp diagnostic skills! By now, however, it is almost 1600 hours and too late to start north today, so we re-trace our old tracks and anchor near the turning basin once again. We will start fresh tomorrow morning. For now, though, we have a front sear for the local marine scene.....pilot boats, police boats, cruise ships and container ships all out doing their thing in the late Florida afternoon.
On Day Two of the voyage, we raise the anchor in our usual, competent manner.....Bill on the bow doing the dirty work, and me in the pilot house finessing the controls while sipping hot coffee. What a team! We are off by 0800 hours, happy that the trials of yesterday are over and ready for whatever this day will bring. About eight miles off Juno Beach, the captain spots a whale.....wow! An hour later we are favored with a two-dolphin escort for a few miles and then, Bill spies a lone loggerhead turtle peeking over the waves at us as we motor slowly by. Quite a fabulous morning with nature!
The remainder of the day is uneventful and we reach the entrance channel to Ft. Pierce harbor, some 55 miles up the coast from West Palm Beach, by 1530. We arrive just in time to watch the out-rushing current stymie all but the fastest boats attempting to enter the harbor through the narrow, rock-lined passageway. We follow the progress of a catamaran under power and a cruiser with our binoculars as they fight the waves and cede almost all forward progress to the swift out-flowing current. We smartly decide to bob around in a wide circle until the conditions are more favorable for us. Finally, it's our time and we motor past the mighty "Newport" dredge who has been at the channel entrance working all afternoon. She is deepening the channel.....sucking up the loose floor of the inlet and spewing the wet sand hundreds of feet down the beach.
The water route from south Florida to South Carolina is not as direct as the I-95 route. (Neither is it paved, patrolled or dotted with fast food outlets..... but that, of course, is its charm!) It is a 365 mile journey by land, or about 400 by sea, that can be divided up in a variety of fashions. You can, with favorable seas and winds, accomplish the entire journey in one 55 hour nautical marathon via the open Atlantic; you can slog up the Intracoastal Waterway for endless, mindless hours; you can overnight at the occasional scenic anchorage; or you can combine all three....which we do! So, on Day Three of the event, we opt to head far out into the blue-blue Atlantic. The next possible anchorage lies a mere 230 miles to the north. At an average of six knots an hour....well, you do the math.
Day Three dawns clear and we leave the shallow peace of our Ft. Pierce anchorage at 0645. Bright-eyed; anticipating a great day at sea. And, the offshore waters are as calm as an ocean can be. Our very favorite kind of day. We take turns at the helm throughout the day, pacing ourselves for the overnighter ahead. I am at the wheel as daylight fades -- the ocean taking on a silvery shimmer as a crescent moon flares red on the horizon. It is breathtaking.
With full darkness comes the reality that Bill has gone below to his berth and I am alone in the pilothouse! It is an awesome responsibility, and one that I assiduously try to avoid. There is no help for it on this voyage, however, and I did volunteer. (What was I thinking?) The Captain has to sleep sometime, though! Taking stock of my surroundings, I count no less than 14 lighted dials, monitors, screens and gauges on the dash in the pilot house. It is a dazzling display of electronic redundancy! We have on our running lights, naturally, but the darkness surrounding Let's Dance is profound, and a little scary -- the continual sweep of the radar hands provide the only clues to the world outside the trawler. And it is a big ocean, my friends.
Bill takes the watch around midnight and is able to stay awake, if not totally alert, until I stumble back up at around 0500. (Thanks for letting me sleep in, Captain!) The quiet night is followed by a calm day and before we know it we have traveled for 35 straight hours and 232 nautical miles. The only hitch was a midday cabin invasion by a squadron of nasty, biting flies about 15 miles off the coast of Brunswick, Georgia. Hmmmm. Anyway, with slightly blurry eyes and fuzzy heads, we pull into an anchorage between Jekyll and St. Simons islands at the end of day four of the cruise. The beaches here are idyllic, we note, and almost deserted.
Now it is Friday, Day Five, and we are back at sea. Only 140 miles left to the entrance of Charleston Harbor! One last, multi-watch run and we are home! Wave heights increase throughout the morning. By the time my watch begins at noon, sitting in the big captain's chair feels like riding the mechanical bull at Gilley's in 70's Houston. Six footers roll through about every five seconds. This is less fun than you might think. We buck along on a northeasterly course, cleverly side-stepping the 696 foot cargo ship "Grande Sierra Leone" as she emerges from the Tybee Roads shipping lanes from Savannah into the great Atlantic.
It is Saturday morning, Memorial Day weekend, and the crew of Let's Dance is ready for shore leave. Six-days ready. The buoys marking the long channel into historic Charleston Harbor are in sight; a massive cargo ship (possibly loaded with locally made BMWs) pushes tons of water in front of her as she exits the channel; a hazy sun reflects off the aluminum outriggers on sport fishing boats speeding to catch that first fish of the day; and, our heretofore trusty Lugger engine dies. No sputter, no cough, no warning. Just quits.
Silence at sea. We are stunned for a moment, then the Captain rallies. All hands on deck! Stabilizers off! Generator off! Weigh the anchor! We are dead in the water, but at least we are not adrift. Whew.......now I can relax. Bill, of course, has been calmly controlled the whole time: very handy trait in the guy in charge. So we sit and ponder our options as we bob quietly by green can 23.
Bill lobs in a call to James, the master mechanic in Florida (remember the sea trials of just a few days ago? Hmmmmm.) They discuss different scenarios and decide that a blown fuse is the most likely culprit. A fuse? Really? Both Bill and I search the stark white engine room looking for the little traitor to no avail. Okay, Plan B: We have a wing engine, after all: also referred to as the "get home engine." Now we know why. She will see us safely through the channel and into Charleston harbor. Of course! The only catch is that her top speed is about three knots, and as we have previously established, you can pretty much walk faster than that.
Undeterred, the Captain waits for the perfect opening -- we don't want to meet a giant tanker half way through the gauntlet with reduced power -- and we head in. We make it safely through the channel, passing Ft. Sumter with all her tourists and gaily flying flags, to a familiar anchorage just off the James Island Yacht Club docks. The view of downtown Charleston is stunning in the morning light. We anchor. We reconnoiter, reassess, revise. Bill decides to brave the holiday revelers whose boats zip madly around the harbor and make for the security of the marina. Slowly. The slip they offer us would be an easy fit with all systems go, but with our limited maneuverability we opt to back off and re-think the situation. We re-anchor. We rest overnight.
Cut to Day Seven of the sea cruise......Charleston Harbor.....home is so close and yet so far! After sleeping on it, the Captain has come to the difficult decision to call in Tow Boat U.S. for help. This is a bit of a blow, but it can't be helped. Safety first! So, at 0755 on Sunday morning we meet our new best friend, Drew, and his Georgia-red tow boat.
Bill and Drew confer and decide that a blown fuse probably is to blame for our plight, and together they locate the little trouble-maker. But it is Sunday morning. What to do? Drew calls in a favor from a friend who opens a marina store and gives him a choice of small, marine fuses to try. Drew is back in a flash. Bill installs a little red fuse and, bingo! The crippled Lugger engine starts right back up! It's a miracle!
Under her own power, Let's Dance moves smartly through the congested harbor towards the marina. To be safe, and because we have already paid for the tow, Drew follows us until we reach the edge of the docks. Here, as we idle, he lashes his rescue boat to our starboard side with so many lines you would think he expected a mutiny. Lights flashing, the little tow boat nudges us gently into our slip at the marina on the Ashley River. Home at last!
Finally. It is 0945 on Day Seven of the voyage. The sea trial has resulted in a unanimous verdict! We are happy to be ashore! Let's Dance, the Love Me Tender and her crew are all safe, secure, a little bit sleepy, and at home in Charleston. The summer will bring other adventures, whether on land or sea, and maybe even some trials, but for now, we are back in the Holy City. Sipping sweet tea and walking on the shady side of the street.
Let's Dance........Carol and Bill
