We tacked west out from Florida Bay to get away from the ominous clouds. Florida Bay is considered the waterspout capital of the world. The area can have as many as 500 waterspouts per year. The clouds were thick and very low. It seemed to make good sense to tack out and then back in toward Cape Romano. This move would also steer us clear of the many crab pots that you always have to dodge in the region.
A tack seaward is a maneuver that always provides the elements for escape. You head away from land and toward faraway places.
"No chart?" The Kid asked not so much as a question, but as a confirmation to sail chartless.
"No chart. Compass needle west. Where to?"
Where to, was not a question needing a response. Where to, was the phrase to set in motion imagination to do a little escaping on the open water. Away from the coast. Away from heading somewhere, to head everywhere. Away from the weather gathering in Florida Bay, or so we thought.
I watched The Kid scanning the southwest horizon. I wondered if The Kid was on the way to Central America somewhere. La Ceiba? Dangriga?
This Captain, usually a look south kind of person, was squinty-eyed looking northish. No particular destination in mind, but in the frame of mind that a coastal circumnavigation of the Gulf would bring escape and other places of great variety and culture.
As we scanned out horizons and left the sloop for awhile, a spray of a noise was barely audible off the starboard bow. Back on board from my somewhere near the Louisiana/Texas border, I heard the noise again and leaned out over the rail to see a dolphin running north with us. It would out swim us about a foot under water, disappear; then leap from the water on the aft port.
The Kid, back from Central America, spotted it and began to make dolphin noises to communicate. Most people will knock on their hull to attract these acrobats to stay with them and draw closer. Not The Kid. The Kid took two years of secondary dolphin and could, although not always grammatically correct, be conversant in day to day dolphin vernacular. The show put on by both was hypnotic. Both would whistle, click, moan, trill, grunt and squeak, when it was in good manner and appropriate to the conversation to do so. What a show! What a fine escape into a world at and below the surface.
Behind us another spectacle was brewing. Out from the Florida Bay weather a squall had been playing catch up to us while we were playing. The storm looked like it was rising from the water. It was catching us quickly and the seas began to pick up. There are times when it is best to stay deep and ride it through. There are times when it is best to head in, if you can safely do so. Out came the charts! It looked like we were out some from Indian Key Pass. The weather was not hugging the coast but was eagerly trying to embrace us, so we opted to head in. We were on a northeast heading which was taking us away from the weather, but due to the mounting seas was rocking, rolling and pitching us around. We had a good fix on where we needed to head. I pulled the binoculars out to scan the distantly appearing coastline. "There!" I pointed to what looked like where the Pass would be as we got closer to get a visual.
"There!" The Kid called out pointing off behind us.
This Captain was trying to hold the wheel up on course, and the single course for lunch down. I was sure what I had spotted was the coast. It had to be off our bow. What is The Kid saying.
"There off our stern!" The Kid called out again.
Nausea is not our friend. It doesn't care who you are or the kind of day you are having. It comes uninvited and stays until you are utterly miserable, and then on the way out it attempts to take the inner you with it. This is NOT an escape! This is a place you do not want to go, but at level red nausea, or rather level green, I turned my head, hoping not to further turn my stomach, to where The Kid was pointing. There it was. A waterspout. it was the second one The Kid had spotted. This one was touching the water and with all the other motion external and internal I could not discern what direction it was heading. As I turned back to right our course back to the now visible coast and the nearly visible Pass, my new non-friend took over control of The Captain. Lunch was not the greatest the first time, but part two.!? The Kid took the wheel as The Captain heeled over.
The Captain does not get seasick. The only thing I can figure is too much time looking through the binoculars as we rolled and bobbed. The Kid was hooting and howling back at the wind and wave as we pitched and rolled toward the Pass.
"Somebody fix me a sandwich, a big one." The Kid hollered out. The Kid was on a high and riding this storm, rippin on the way in to Indian Key Pass.
Once in we could stay out of the weather and wait it out.
A lesson in escape:
Its good to getaway, but there are times when you have to watch where you are even when you are someplace other than where you are.
The Kid brought us safely into the Pass. Our friend the dolphin did not follow us in. Our foe the waterspout spun around the water for awhile but didn't follow us in. The Captain's lunch, first friend, then foe, didn't come in with us, and hopefully isn't following us in.
More next time from inside the Pass.
The Captain and The Kid
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