WAITING FOR THE RIGHT WEATHER WINDOW

     Rain patters on the hatch above my bunk.  I rollover and listen to the strong wind in the rig, and as I continue emerging from my slumber I feel the boat surge gently on its anchor chain.  We’ve been anchored here in No Name Harbor for three days, long enough for me to tell by glancing out the side port that the boat is pointing North-East as it faces into the wind.  Since we need a moderate South-West wind there is no rush to roll out of my bed: we won’t be sailing anywhere today.

            No Name is on the southern tip of Key Biscayne, just around the corner from Cape Florida.  The anchorage is filled with boats waiting for the opportunity to cross to the Bahamas, and although it is only 42 nautical miles away, it is across the mighty Gulf Stream.  The state park which surrounds the little harbor was ground zero for Hurricane Andrew, and all the vegetation we can see has replaced the trees and shrubs which were scoured away by that fearsome storm.  There are toilets, walking paths, an ocean side beach, restaurants, a seawall where you can tie your dinghy while you dump the trash, and an impressive grocery store located a two mile walk into town. All these amenities make the harbor one of the popular anchorages for Bahamas bound boaters.  The Captain refuses to pay the $20 per night anchoring fee, so the first mate and I take turns slipping a $20 bill into the honor system envelopes.

            This is a “would of, could of, should of,” kind of place.  We “should of” gotten up at 1 am yesterday and left, the front didn’t arrive until 10 AM, so although we would have had to motor across we would have been in Bimini by now.  We “could of” left the afternoon of the day we arrived, but that required trying to pick our way into Bimini Harbor in the dark.  If we had arrived here last week we “would of” made use of the great two day window of gentle westerly winds they had back then.  Instead we will do today the same thing we did yesterday: listen to weather forecasts, watch the nonstop harbor boat show, do boat chores, and talk with the like minded crews of the boats anchored all around us.

            The Miami nautical community is just across Biscayne Bay, and their boating fraternity makes heavy use of No Name Harbor on weekends.  We spent yesterday, Sunday, watching a Cuban-American family with four little girls play around their family boat.  First the bicycles were unloaded and off they went for a ride.  Then the dinghy got lowered and for the rest of the day little girls piloted it around the harbor.  The smallest girl made sand castles, culminating in a sand storm as she gleefully threw fistfuls of sand into the air.  Mom made breakfast, lunch and dinner, using a hose connected to the boats water system to wash the dishes over the side of their small power boat.  Their stern mounted barbeque smoked, Dad talked with fellow Cuban Americans boaters along the seawall and repaired bicycles.  Little girls clambered up one side of the mini tower then down the other side, climbed from dinghy to the swim platform then struggled to scale the transom into the cockpit, scampering on, off, and around their boat all day long: an anthill of activity.  At dusk the bicycles were loaded into the cockpit, the lines cast off and the family motored towards home in the gathering darkness.

            On our boat I cleaned the dinghy, and worked on reorganizing its starter battery location.  The Captain replaced the rusty terminal ends connecting the chain portion on one of the boat’s anchor rodes.  The first mate walked to the grocery store with several new friends, then made chocolate chip cookies.  Dinghies constantly buzz around the little harbor as sailors go to shore, pick up crews who are returning from walking, ferry groceries or water jugs, and visit with other boats.

  It’s time to download a new weather forecast, but now I can scrutinize it while munching on a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie.  Maybe the excellent looking weather window forecast for tomorrow will open.  More light rain patters down on the hatches, and with the shower comes another little wind shift as the breeze continues to clock.  The assembled boats anchored in No Name pivot in unison on their rodes and now face South-East.

Rick Gordon

1 Feb 2010