Sailing the Gulf of Mexico
By Cindy Strahm
After docking at Mobile Alabama for
nine days to fuel up, provision, and allow crew members to take care of business at their homes, Spirit of Independence was on her way again. The schooner motored away from the Arthur R. Outlaw Convention Center
in Mobile at 10:02 a.m. on January 25, 2006 amidst a waving crowd of well-wishers on board Grampa
Woo III and surrounding docks. As she made her way South on the Mobile River, Captain
J.C. and crew anticipated the days’ cruise through the expansive Mobile Bay and into the Gulf of Mexico. The weather and wind forecasted were fair
and favorable for the sail destination of Key West Florida. On this leg of Spirit’s voyage, Captain J.C., along with crew members Joy Waters,
Ken Brink, Ron and Cindy Strahm would help sail the schooner.
Motoring past Little Sand Island (where Joy and Cindy had led an exploration detail days before) the river flowed into
the bay. Buoys and markers were easy to follow, as the bay widened to the point where its shores were indiscernible. Many
ships, barges, dredges and unidentifiable vessels were passed on the channel through the bay. The strangest one was surely
a tug pulling the largest spool of cable in the universe, obviously set up to lay cable under the ocean.
Later in the afternoon, the bay shores began to narrow, and all onboard could see a distinct line of color variation
of the water where the bay met the gulf. But that wasn’t all! That funneling stretch of water appeared rough, with confused,
white-capped waves, depicting wind against current. Soon, the crew was swaying with the rocking and rolling of Spirit as she
motored into the Gulf of Mexico. When the odd motion quickly eased somewhat, graceful dolphins escorted
Spirit out to sea.
The washing-machine like wave action was replaced by large, choppy rollers that the schooner navigated very well, but
the crew now began trying to adjust to the increasing motion of the boat.
At 4:00 p.m. the sails were hoisted for the first time on the schooner. The club-footed stays’l was flown first, and then
the mains’l was hoisted and trimmed. The vessel fell off the wind, and as her sails filled, the crew gave J.C., Joy
and the Waters family, and all who have cared and helped, a respectful, joyful salute of applause. The Spirit of Independence motored/sailed lovely.
As nightfall approached, Ken devised a helm/watch shift list for the night. Each crewmember took a two hour watch,
then two hours at the helm, so that there would always be two souls in the pilothouse. Safety harness and lines had been previously
rigged and life jackets set out in case of a need to go on deck after dark. The motion of the boat had increased with the
size of the waves, and all crewmembers were feeling the effects of motion sickness.
The night sail went well, but the waves increased with size at five to seven feet, with a six second dwell. Stars were
picked by which to sail, and winds blew from the N.E. at about twenty knots. The crew was unaware that they had partaken of
their last meal for three days. The motion of the boat was intolerable to galley work, and the crewmembers became increasingly
ill. Various types of crackers, and water, became the only desirable voyage fare.
The next day (Thursday, January 26th) dawned sunny as the schooner continued on course with favorable winds.
Speculation offered as to the roughness of the sea was the expanse of fetch and the relative shallowness of the Gulf. Spirit
was making an average of 6½ knots. Crew and Captain took shifts at the helm throughout the day. Everyone became quite green.
Because the decks were too slippery and rolling to barf over the sides and the motion too violent below to quickly reach the
head safely, Hefty kitchen size trash bags were dispensed. These were kept in the back pocket and used often. Later
that day Joy shared the only eight (and very precious!) Dramamine pills onboard to the crew and Captain and —for
awhile —all felt marvelous!!. Unfortunately, the
pills were ineffective after four hours.
The winds continued favorably enough, blowing on the port beam from the S.E. throughout the afternoon and into the
night. The ocean swells, though still large, seem to be spaced further apart. Most of the crew was still ill, and they watched
the sunset on this eve with resigned determination. Options for most were limited to either taking a turn at the helm in the
pilothouse, or to lie flat on one’s berth, likely sleeplessly. Any other state of being would expedite discomfort and/or
illness. The stars blessed the schooner’s crew with their presence once again. That made staying on course less difficult
because at night, Raymarine navigational electronics monitor would tend to destroy the helmsman’s night vision. (The
sailboat’s compass and autopilot were not functioning.) The night passed uneventfully, and dawn on Friday, January 27th brought another fair day. Steady progress could now be observed on the rhumb line.
Spirit continued motor sailing throughout the day without problems. Each evening, the crew would watch hopefully for
the elusive ‘green flash’, which is sometimes seen just as the sun drops into the sea. The vessel sailed into
another starry night, but before morning a thin cloud cover made steering by stars more difficult. However, an appreciable
reduction in wave size was noticed, as now the ocean depth was greatly increased, the fetch narrowed, and the wind laid down
a bit (15 knots). As Spirit headed south, each day brought warmer temps.
With the first light of Saturday, January 28th, excitement mounted in anticipation of an approaching landfall
the next day. The seas were definitely flatter, and at noon a healthier crew welcomed sandwiches for lunch.
That afternoon a good sized pod of dolphins gleefully followed the boat. At least six of them leapt into the air in
unison, and then they dipped under the bow in play. Baby dolphins were spotted.
As the day wore on, winds began veering to the S.E., as predicted. Calculations were rehashed to make certain Spirit
made landfall in the light of Sunday morning, instead of dark. The N.W. Passageway into Key West shallows significantly, and many a vessel
has gone aground and sunk in that area.
Decisions were made to take down the sails and motor through Saturday night as the winds were now unfavorable to the
course, and the waves had become lumpy and on the boat’s nose. It was after dark when the crew
went on deck to lower the sails. The winds had freshened, and the schooner pitched and crashed like a bucking horse. Spray
and solid seas invaded the deck, and occasionally the bowsprit impaled a wave. Mistakes were made. The sails, gaffs, and booms
had minds of their own as the crew struggled to hang on to the boat while hauling snapping sails down. A coil of rope tightened
around Ken’s leg and jerked him off his feet, and then Joy’s foot was wedged between a locker and fender. Bringing
down the stays’l became a battle when a bully rogue wave pitched the bow. J.C. was momentarily swept off the boat! (Luckily holding onto a line…) and then
Cindy was thrown down under the stays’ls boom and mass of sail. All was recovered quickly, the sails secured, and the
crew safely returned to the shelter of the pilothouse. Some were too wired to sleep that night. In reality the deck time had
been dangerous, but it had also been a rush (adrenalin?) to the sailing aficionados aboard. The remainder of the night was
spent crashing through waves, but the dawn of Sunday, January 29th, brought the sailboat safely into the clear,
brilliant waters of the N.W. Passage. The sea became, at last, flat and serene.
There was some confusion deciphering the abundance of buoys, day markers, and cans, but that was soon solved. Calls
were made to various marinas at Key West regarding fuel, dock water depths, slip space prices and anchorage availability. J.C. smoothly brought the schooner into
the Key West bight and gently eased her to the fuel dock of Conch Marina at 10:04 a.m. Fuel and water tanks were topped off. The marina store’s entire stock of Dramamine
was bought out. Then, the Spirit of Independence was motored out to anchor west
of Christmas Island—a short distance away from the waterfront of beautiful, sunny Key West, Florida at 11:12
a.m.
Key West Adventures
After dropping anchor just off Christmas Island, the crew and captain stowed sweatshirts and jeans, then donned shorts, T-shirts, and
sandals. The waters sparkled like a carpet of aquamarine gemstones, beckoning all on board to jump ship. Indeed, the upcoming
seven-day stay would be enhanced with much ship to shore trips to provision, sightsee, and explore.
The deck of Spirit of Independence became a 24/7 outdoor theater to view
numerous activities simultaneously. To the South one might view multi-colored para-sailors, fishing trawlers, wave runners,
and dive boats. To the East stood luxury cruise ships, and several commercial gaff-rigged schooner charter boats flew their
sails. To the North, every kind of sailboat imaginable bobbed at anchor; and on Christmas Island numerous wrecks lay belly-up on shore, decaying
after a hurricane passed through. To the N.E. lay the busy, exotic waterfront of old town Key West. Overhead flew everything from pontooned
ultra-lights to corporate jets. Scheming pelicans, elusive cormorants, ever-searching gulls and an occasional brooding vulture
further colored the landscape. At night the show continued in the form of reflected lights on the water and party music drifting
in and ebbing out of the sleeping crew’s dreams.
On Wednesday, February 1st, Captain J.C. taught a class on deck, reiterating how to coil and secure lines,
and handling the sails, lines and sheets with uniform consistency. Next, the anchor was lifted and a practice sail ensued.
All sails were hoisted and as the schooner’s sails cupped the breeze, several tacks were made. The dinghy was launched,
and Joy commanded a very successful photo shoot of Spirit under sail.
This venture went exceptionally well until the anchorage was reached and the crew prepared to drop the hook. The anchor
hoisting block and tackle—and the large metal hook attached—was let go. In its state of gyrating freedom, the
thing became potentially lethal and found its mark on Cindy’s forehead. The beastly hook was caught and secured. Joy
fetched the boat’s huge, ultimate First Aid bag to prepare to administer to her very first patient. When the crimson
flow was finally staunched and all of the blood mopped up, an itty, bitty ding of perhaps a quarter of an inch was located
near her hairline, requiring only a small band-aid.
Another highlight of the Key West venture was on a tropical warm morning when the Captain announced a contest, complete
with prize and prestige, to the mate who could find the most unique and useful treasures from the uninhabited isle that played
host to many forlorn wrecks. The crew scrambled for their survival gear (water, sunscreen…) and their salvaging tools
(cameras, knives…) and they were off! After securing the beached dinghy, the crew separated… and it was every
man for himself. After long, sweltering, dangerous hours of going through trash and scouring bashed
hulls, the crew regrouped at the dinghy. Treasure was heaped into the dinghy, along with a whole lot of bull hockey about
how they all came by the stuff. Before returning to the mother ship, homage was paid to a magnificent four foot high wood
carving of a bejeweled lady said to have powers to ward off future hurricanes that might attempt to invade the island.
When back on board with the booty, ceremonies began in strict military fashion. The Captain directed the displaying
of the loot, and then judged the winner to be swabby Ron Strahm. With pompous rhetoric and derogatory salutes, the prize of
golden nuggets was presented, along with an official certificate signed by the Captain and all of the crew.
Now, here are some of the items salvaged from the island. You can believe it, or not. Four caps, a bright pink hat,
an umbrella hat, a commercial juicer, a beer keg, Christmas pillows, a hammock, a hank of rope, two hermit crabs, sea shells,
a Bible, a hugemongous sponge, a volleyball, two wet suits, a fishing lure, an aluminum coffee pot, a lump of coal, tool box,
lobster pot buoy, jacket, shirts, towels, large plastic box, tent rain flap, decorative bottle, a plaque of wisdom, an eight
ball from a pool table, a hammock, and several cans of sardines—and much more came on board!
Later, Ron and Joy went back and did salvaging of a more serious nature. With her serious tools, Joy brought back four
winches—two of which were quite valuable.
The contest day held more surprises than treasure for the crew. Each came back with a story. Cindy got lucky when she
managed to sneak past two mean dogs obviously left to guard a wrecked boat. Ken found the hurricane goddess. Joy and Ron found
a high, tree-to-tree glider/swing they had a great time playing on. Cindy came upon an area that appeared to have hosted satanic
rituals of some kind. Pictures were taken to prove these sightings.
J.C. seldom left the schooner and was often busy repairing and cleaning the boat, or reconfiguring the rigging. One
afternoon he went ashore with Ken and Ron, and likely later wished he hadn’t. Joy
and Cindy stayed on Spirit and were below cleaning the galley when the sky darkened. Climbing up to the pilothouse, they watched
a storm approach. Soon, it was blowing and pouring rain. The hatches and port lights were quickly latched down, and the ladies
took visual bearings and continually checked to see if the anchor was dragging. Though the sailboat wallowed and strained
against her anchor, she was holding. The men on shore telephoned to see if all was well, and at that
point—it was. Joy went below, and Cindy stretched out in the pilothouse to rest. For about
fifteen minutes, life seemed worry free. Just before Cindy felt herself beginning to doze off, she took one more look outside.
The picture had changed! Her visual bearings had altered. “Joy, we’re dragging!” They turned on the Raymarine
navigation computer and read 6 feet 8 inches of water. Within seconds, it went to 6’4”—6’2”—5’8…
Joy telephoned the guys with a May Day—5’4”—5’2”—“Joy, we have to start the
engine and power out! Now!” Joy started the engine, and Cindy jumped
outside the companionway to direct Joy away from the anchor chain so that the struggling boat wouldn’t run over it.
Within seconds Spirit was at a more comfortable 7’2” water depth, but the ladies struggled to hold the boat out
against the winds. Where were the men?! Seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. Finally, the dinghy was spotted, bouncing treacherously
over rough waves and pelting rain. Cindy went to help them on board, but the intense and grim-faced men might have trampled
her down had she tried! J.C. took the helm, and Ron, Joy, Ken, and Cindy struggled to lift the anchor. The day was saved as
they motored way out, but it took two tries to get the anchor to hold in the rough seas and wind gusts. Anchor watch was posted
that night.
By morning, the sun blazed again, and the winds and seas had laid down considerably. The remaining
stay was peaceful. Anchor was lifted the next day, Sunday, February 5th, and the schooner sailed away from paradise.
Key West is a world unto its own. It still whispers of a haunting, rich history flavored with ruthless salvagers pushing their
schooners stormward to pick bones of wrecks and an abundant fishing and turtle harvesting era. The saga of the recovered Atotia
treasure by Mel Fisher was staged just off shore, and evidence of Truman and Hemingway succumbing to the lure of this exotic
port abounds. Spirit of Independence’s crew felt a longing to have been there…back then. These
days, Key West is more an “anything goes” town; and tourists by the droves come to try and catch even a slight essence
of what Key West used to be.
Perhaps the Captain and crew of Spirit experienced that essence more deeply than most while living on board a beautifully-crafted,
traditional gaff-rigged schooner of old, the very same that plied the waters of Key West long ago at this exciting jump off
point to the rest of the world.
