Wednesday, 6 September 2017 - I left Boot Key Harbor around 1pm after reinstalling my three sails and headed west to get out past all the Florida Keys and beyond Dry Tortugas. I passed Key West at about 10pm, made all the last minute phone calls I could and tried to check out the hurricane track, but couldn't because I passed out of cell phone service. I think that in the next few days, I am going to learn more about sailing than I have so far. It's going to be quite an experience.

Thursday, 7 September - With a full moon and only a few puffy clouds off in the distance, it was a glorious night for boating. Unfortunately, winds were very light, so I motored with my sails up all night long at about 4.5kt, which is about 5 mph.
                  Just at sunrise, I learned a good lesson. Most lobster and crab traps are in about 20 feet of water or less and fairly close to marinas or at least shore, and the lines on them usually are only a few feet longer than the depth of the water they are in. They have to be longer to compensate for the tides and currents, but you can usually get within 5 or 10 feet of them and not catch them on your prop or rudder. In fact, I've had several roll down the side of the boat as I passed without catching them. This morning was totally different. I came out of the saloon just in time to see one with three balls on it about 40 feet off my starboard beam and considered that to be way more than enough clearance. I was wrong! It immediately took off toward parallel to and toward the back of my boat, the opposite direction than I was traveling, then it sank, just like the 50 gallon barrels they attached to the shark in Jaws. With the beautiful, clear, blue water, I could see it then reverse direction and fall in behind my boat. I immediately took the boat out of gear, set there for a few moments, then put the transmission in reverse at a very low speed. Too late, I was hooked!
                  I could see the line and thought, Oh! No! It's chain. Luckily, that was wrong. It was just a heavier line because of the depth of the water and, perhaps because of the weight of the trap, and they had doubled it, which, with the algae growing on it had made it look like chain I'd have had to spend another half hour or more digging out the big bolt/chain cutter that I have on board for just such emergencies. I was in over sixty feet of water and almost 70 miles from Key West, the closest facilities. They must have had about 120 feet of line on it for me to have caught it from so far away. Luckily, since I caught the last trap, I've acquired a grappling hook. I'm sure I couldn't have pulled this one up with a boat hook like I did the last one. I dropped the grapnel, caught it, then ran my line to my back winch on the port side, and winched it up. I'd had to kill the engine and furl all my sails to put less tension on their line in order to raise it and the seas were pounding from under the swim platform but I got it up far enough to cut the line. That done, I still wasn't out of hot water. I couldn't get it to free from my prop, so I had to get my snorkeling gear and a safety line on and go down and untangle it. I was sure glad this happened in calm seas with little wind. I can't imagine how difficult it would be with huge seas running. Of course, now I'm paranoid that it will happen again. I saw this one, but I had sailed all night through traps and could have caught one at any time in the dark. That took two hours, so it's noon and I'm just about to pass Dry Tortugas.
                  Since they expect tropical storm strength winds, which are 39 to 75 miles per hour, and high waves out to 185 miles to the sides of Irma, and since I won't know where it finally comes ashore, I think I'll keep heading west for awhile. The Tortugas has a nice harbor protected from waves, but not from winds unless you're tucked in behind Fort Jefferson, which might not happen as the storm moves north and the wind direction changes from East to North. Everybody has a different idea of what the safest tactics are and I've made my best guess, so I'm going to stick with my plan. I'm headed west!ø
                  About 4 o'clock I finally got a change in the wind direction that put it further off the bow, allowing me to make use of the sails. Not much, but I'll take it, about 4.5 to 5 kts. Later in the afternoon, since I had used the snorkel gear to clear the prop, I cleaned up a bit of green vertigris on the breathing lines for the scuba gear and finding a better place to store it. I hope I don't have to use it on this trip. Chances of that are slimmer now, I finally have cleared the lobster and crab pots by getting for enough out and into much deeper water.

Friday, 8 September - I am now 230 miles from Marathon and from what very little I was able to hear on the NOAA weather channel on the VHF, Marathon will be devastated. I can barely hear the weather radio because of the static, but was able to contact a huge cargo ship that passed me right before sunset. Their Russian radio communicator gave me a brief synopsis, saying Irma would be in this area tomorrow blowing at about 100 miles per hour. If that's true, I'm in real trouble. He, also said that it will then turn north and probably pass over Miami. I wish he'd define "this area" a little better, but it made me want to be further west. I had actually decided I might be far enough west today and headed north for awhile. The wind changed and the waves grew as I went further north, so I headed back southwest. I could have been very close to Cancun, Mexico by now, but I don't want to throw $1500 worth of guns into the sea. They are, as I understand it, adamant about not allowing guns into the country...as if they weren't already there. The drug cartels have plenty.
                  I saw my first flying fish today and the water is incredibly blue here. I think I'm in about 11,000 feet of water. A man could drown out here! I said "I think", because my depth finder has quit working, along with my wind direction indicator. At 11,000 feet of water, I'm not too worried about dragging bottom. Two other nice things: no bugs or mosquitoes and no lobster pots to avoid.
                  I ran the engine for almost all of the first two days of this trip, so I checked the dip stick in my fuel tank today. I still had about 57 gallons left in the tank. That left plenty of room for the 5 jerry jugs on deck and I decided it would be a good idea to put those in the tank now rather than after the seas get larger.
                  I was under sail almost all day without the engine running, but after dark, the winds have picked up. I was making good time without the engine, but needed to charge batteries, so I started the engine. I was making about 5.4 kts with foresails alone, but am now making about 6.1 kts with the engine and sails.

Saturday, 9 September - Well, not really. It's Monday and I'm going to try to remember back for the last couple of days. I've had my hands full and my mind on other things. One of the reasons I bought a boat was because I wasn't really learning or getting any better at anything I was doing back in SLC, with the exception of, perhaps, wind surfing, and Salt Lake City isn't really the place to perfect that sport. The wind doesn't blow there enough. Anyway, getting a boat and sailing has certainly been a learning experience, especially this week! I just reread the Friday entry to see where I left off, and thank God I emptied the jerry jugs into the tank. Everything that I've been doing since then, I've needed to be holding onto a strong support on the boat constantly with one hand or, if I needed two or three hands, like filtering the fuel into the tank does, stopping everything every three seconds to grab support with both hands. I've fallen clear across the saloon twice and hit the refrigeration, once backward, hitting flat against it on my back, and the other time forward, catching myself on it just in time to keep from making an impression of my face into it. With these high seas, the boat doesn't just roll, pitch and yaw, it lurches, especially when rolling away from the wind and waves. Qne thing I've had to relearn is not to push the single control water faucet to the left, or hot, side. Since I've been at anchor, I barely ever run the engine, so turning the control to the hot side doesn't matter. There isn't any hot water, or rather, there isn't any cold water. It's all the same temperature; about 85 degrees. However, since I've been running the engine and the heat for the hot water comes directly from the engine cooling system, the hot water at the faucets is about 150°F. Ouch!
                  More westering today, but as north winds started to get stronger and seas started to build, I thought it was time to heave to. Heaving to is supposed to be similar to putting a car in park and resting awhile. I've heaved to on this boat only once before and that was in light winds and I couldn't quite get the boat to stop moving forward totally. In light winds, that isn't too important, but under the situation I'm in, absolutely necessary. With both foresails furled totally and the main about half furled, tried for several hours to stop the boat, but still could not, even by throwing about 400 feet of heavy line overboard with three milk crates attached to try to pull the bow around. Still not enough drag. It just wasn't going to work. Time for action. I hated to waste 400 feet of line, but it might take an hour to pull it all back in and then I'd have 3/4 and 1 inch line all over the deck, so I just cut it loose and headed westerly with my bow slightly into the wind. When I engaged the auto pilot, it spun the wheel one full turn; way off course. It's done that before and I don'n know why. That means I'm going to have to steer manually all night. Not Good! At midnight I noticed a small cargo ship following me at the same speed I was traveling and I was ready for the night to be over. I had really gotten tired moving ropes around, tying them together and getting them overboard without tangling earlier in the day and it was really showing now. Seas had gotten higher and winds stronger and I needed to be alert to make sure I crossed each big wave at the right angle. Thank God it was another bright moonlit night or it would have been like sailing blindfolded. I realized that if I held onto the steering wheel with both hands that the steering wheel would give a sharp jerk if I was at the wrong angle to the wind. That would wake me up just in time to correct the error before I hit a wave wrong. That probably saved me and the boat many times that night.

Sunday, 10 September - Just after dawn, the winds got stronger and the waves got higher, then I saw it was about to get much stronger. I could see a squall headed my way with light rain and water blowing across the tops of the waves. It almost looked like a dust storm and moving fast. I noticed the little cargo vessel change direction, giving up and heading back. I thought that was a bad decision because he would be getting closer to the storm. I called him on the VHF and he said that, yes, he was giving up. I asked what he knew about the storm, but I still thought heading west was the best thing to do. We wished each other well and parted ways. The squall hit me within 5 minutes and I started to question my decision, but it soon let up and, behind it, the wind seemed even less than before it hit. I was tempted to call the cargo vessel and tell him, but thought I'd better give in a few more minutes before I did so that I didn't give him false information. I was glad I did. The winds picked up again and I started having to thread my way through huge breaking waves. This was the height of the storm for me. The velocity of the winds wasn't that high, the problem was the long fetch of sea that it had blown causing the high swell and now they had short frequency, meaning the troughs were deeper and the faces steeper. After about an hour of this, I noticed a small boat tailing me again, but not the cargo vessel. He stayed about a mile behind me. Then another appeared...and another! Now they deployed themselves, each at about 120 degrees around me and at about a mile distant. I began to think it might be some reality show tv crew in small maneuverable power boats hovering like buzzards and waiting for some good action scenes of a sailing vessel getting into trouble and sinking, but they never came any closer, as I would have expected if that were the case. Their AIS signals wouldn't identify them and I decided they must be coast guard cutters ready to help, if I need it. I was weaving through the breakers pretty well under power, running at about 1400 rpm, about 30 degrees off the line of waves until I would spot one that looked like it might be dangerous, then I would turn almost directly into the wave, accelerate to about 1600 rpm to get power and push myself over the top. Shortly thereafter, I saw that two of the vessels left. I guess they were convinced that I was going to be okay and left to be helpful somewhere else, leaving one boat to keep an eye on me. Perhaps they left a little too soon.
                  About 10 minutes later, I heard a loud pop and clang and heard my mainsail start flagging. Each time I passed over a breaker, I would change direction by tacking across the wind and letting the sail flap. I guess I did one too many. The clew in the sail broke the nylon webbing holding the grommet in and released the back corner of the sail. Now I was under motor alone. I zig-zagged through a few more, but realized that the boat really doesn't turn well without the sail being there to push the bow around. I was concerned, but suddenly realized that the number of breaking waves was finally dropping, and the frequency of the waves was diminishing, making the faces of the waves less steep, so I unfurled the yankee sail. That was better, so I unfurled the genoa to help. Whoa! Too much sail! I virtually flew over the top of the next big wave and came crashing down. Wow! Did we hit hard! Now I had to furl the yankee to give me access to both winches to partly furl the genoa. I wouldn't have been able to handle both lines without the second winch in these powerful winds. I finally got it done and started sailing back toward Key West, assuming the worst was over. It was actually very nice sailing although since I had the sails set forward and no mainsail up, Island Time was a bit low in the bow. That worried me a bit. I was afraid that the bow might dive, but after a few minutes, that seemed unlikely. I tried the autopilot and, oh my God, it actually came on properly and engaged without spinning the steering wheel. Thank you Lord! That made my day. I wouldn't have to stand at the wheel all night long steering. I was exhausted and knew that staying awake another night would be impossible.
                  I expected the winds to die even more about dusk, but the opposite was true. They picked up to about 27kts and I was flying over the waves at up to 7.1 kt. I believe that is theoretically faster than Island Time can go however, so I suspect it was as she rode down the back of a wave. I was way too tired to try to reduce sail, so I just decided to let the boat take care of herself and me. Much of the time, when the next wave started to lift and lean the boat as it raised the port side first, the starboard rail would be under water. I had to totally enclose the cockpit with the dodger in order to keep spray and waves out. Actually, I really didn't accomplish that very well. Spray came in and now there will be moisture and salt on everything inside, too. When I was manually steering as the winds rose, I had battened the hatches, but couldn't reach one quickly enough. I had hoped the the almost 3 inch rise on the sides of the hatches would keep out the water even though I didn't dog down the screws on it. I was wrong. The next time I went below and a breaker hit the side of the boat, water poured in. Getting broadsided by breakers is what I'd been trying to avoid all night and all morning, but the autopilot can't see them coming. It just barrels over anything in the way...and this boat does it well. Of course, there are limits. I don't think the swells were more than about 30 or 40 feet high, but there's no way to judge their height. They all looked HUGE, and I was amazed how easily Island Time surged over them! As I think I mentioned, there was a lot of time spent with the starboard rail under water. It was, however, a rather smooth, consistent ride.
                  After I got the sails set, determined that the nose probably wasn't going to dive, and still had much of the day ahead of me, there was something I really needed to do, take care of the dinghy. Before I left Marathon in such a hurry, I had removed the outboard motor and mounted it on the aft pushpin, then raised the dinghy on the davits. I knew I should put her on the deck and tie her down, but I felt there really wasn't time for that. The dinghy has really suffered because I didn't. I had her strapped down, but so much rough water has caused the strap to chafe and one air compartment started losing air, so the strap got loose. I couldn't get back to the stern to do anything about it and it was heartbreaking to see the thing just bouncing all over the place and self destructing. She got tossed especially high each time the bow dropped over a wave and the back end popped upward, eventually cutting her on some of the solar panel or mounting. It has at least one big slash and two of the three compartments are totally flat. Even though we were racing with the wind, I went back to untangle the tie down with the boat hook. I laid the boat hook down to grab something to hold on to as a wave passed under us and when I reached for the hook, it was gone. I eventually got the strap and one other line around her, but she's in pretty bad shape. As I prepared for nightfall, all I could think of was something to quench my thirst and sleep, especially sleep. I did, however, make myself eat something and take a quick shower. I wish I could say I slept like a baby, but I didn't. I slept in the saloon on a settee because the auto pilot that is mounted right below the bunk in the aft cabin makes so much noise, but in the saloon, there are a million noises like the loosening and tightening of the genoa and yankee sail sheets, pots and pans and other items in the cupboards that clang and bang all night that I don't hear in the aft cabin, so I was kept awake a lot.

Monday, September 11 - The winds are much lighter today, but the swell just keeps on keeping on. It has decreased in size, too, but the light winds don't fill the sails efficiently, so they don't stabilize the boat's rolling and it's a very uncomfortable and noisy ride. On the other hand, no mosquitos, no-see-ums, or lobster pots.

Tuesday, September 12 - I had thought I'd still be in range to receive weather reports via the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) VHF radio station in Key West, but I haven't heard a peep out of them. Perhaps they were destroyed by Irma. I'm now getting patchy, but almost irrelevant reports from Miami and Ft. Myers. Mostly, they are covering the flooding happening in Florida. I don't want to be out here long enough for another big storm to have time to move in and I not know about it. Winds were very light here today, so I decided to motor further south toward Cuba, hoping I might be able to catch some of the Gulf Stream to help carry me to the east. It would be nice to pick up the Gulf Stream and get either north or south winds tomorrow. I noticed that the sheets from my genoa have, at some point, caught on the hatch locks for the starboard saloon hatch cover, so I thought I'd better get that repaired before any sizable storm catches me again. I was working on that on the foredeck when the engine started sounding a little uneven. I went back to listen closer, increased the rpm's a little...and the engine died. Not good! That, however, could wait. Now I had the hatch cover in a condition that would virtually invite more water into the boat if I didn't fix it. I got that repaired with spares that the previous owners, Rick and Gaye George, left onboard, thank you, and then returned to the cockpit. I looked at the radar and noticed two more boats hovering near me just over the horizon. Their AIS (Automated Identification System) wouldn't identify them. Another showed up a little later, but its identity showed up as a large cargo ship and I could tell it wasn't. If it were, I could have seen it twelve miles away. I finally realized they were probably National Security and Immigration boats watching me and assuming that since I wasn't far from Cuba, that I was either waiting for a drug delivery, going to assist some Cubans immigrate illegally, or perhaps, smuggle in some Cuban cigars! They didn't give up on me till about midnight, probably their shift change.
                  I think I mentioned how incredibly clear and blue the water is here, but I saw something else pretty cool this evening, too. I finally saw the "Green Flash"! I guess there are about three kinds of people related to the "Green Flash", those who've never heard of it, those who have, but have never seen in so believe it is probably just another old myth, and then the third group, the believers, because they've seen it. I just switched from a skeptic to a believer. For those of you who haven't seen it, it happens under special circumstances within just moments after the sun sets, then reappears back above the horizon for just a moment as a weak green flash. Pretty cool. If you blink too long, you missed it. Now I believe in it, but have no idea at all how or why it occurs.

Wednesday, September 13 - Getting the engine running was my priority today. I had been becalmed all night and not only did I not catch a ride east on the Gulf Stream, I lost ground drifting all night. I suspected that the problem was clogged fuel filters and I was apparently right. Since this was my first time to change the filters on the boat, it took me much longer than normal. I, also had to bleed the air out of the fuel system since the engine had been starved for fuel, and because I had opened up the system by replacing the secondary filter, and had never done that before. I was lucky to have been becalmed all day. This would have been a lot tougher if the engine had been hot. It was plenty hot and humid even though the engine room had all night too cool down, and I certainly wouldn't want to have to do this with high seas. I got her running and headed slowly east. I'm still about a hundred and twenty miles from Key West and am beginning to worry about having enough diesel fuel. I know I can make it all the way to Key West or Marathon even if I have to motor all the way, but I may get to either of those places and find that there are no longer marinas, groceries, or other necessities. I still haven't heard how much devastation to expect when I arrive. In fact, I'm still not sure where Irma came ashore in the U.S.
                  I saw another very interesting happenings today. The first was that the first bird I've seen in several days made several circles and figure eights around and very close to the boat today. I thought it was looking for something to perch on, but it finally went on its way. The second was just after sunset, which I watched hoping I might be extremely lucky and see two consecutive "Green Flashes." Nope, but the sunset sure was pretty.
                  As I headed back to the cockpit, I though I saw lightning under water a few miles away. What? Then it happened again! There was no lightning off in the distance in that direction, so what the heck? I finally realized how the optical allusion was being created. The storm was probably about 100 to 150 miles away over Cuba, but a dense line of nearer clouds that had no lightning in them was blocking my view. The sea was so calm that I was seeing a reflection on the water of the lightning under the foreground clouds, but of the distant storm that I could not see. Really strange at first, but still pretty cool even when I realized how lightning could occur under water.
                  As I mentioned, the seas are almost like glass again tonight, so I think I'll kill the engine, drift all night and see where I end up in the morning. I hope I don't lose ground again. Since I'm not in any particular hurry, I don't want to waste fuel and sleeping on the totally quiet boat should be great.

Thursday , September 14 - I spent the morning trying to get the depth finder and wind direction gauge working, but without success. I'm afraid I'll need to go to the top of the mast to take a look at the wiring up there for the wind meter and will check the wiring on the depth gauge that is in one of the bilges tomorrow. It was a good day to work on the boat since there was hardly a puff of wind all day long. I just drifted with the sails up, hoping the wind might pick up, but it never did and I drifted about 5 miles and lost about 1 mile toward Marathon. In the afternoon, I worked trying to replace the drive belt on the Sea Frost, engine driven, refrigerator that threw a belt yesterday. The one on it is about an inch too long and I don't have a replacement that is 1 inch shorter. I do have several that are 2 inches shorter, but they can't be gotten mounted on the unit. I put the old one back on after doing some fileing on the mounting arm to allow it to lengthen, but I don't think it will be enough. Time will tell.
                  I've been trying to motor sail at 84° magnetic ever since I started the engine to try to head back to Marathon and the wind direction was perfect for sailing at that heading with only the genoa and staysail at first, but the wind just keeps creeping further to the east a little at a time. I've had to keep changing my heading by one or two degrees until now I'm sailing at 91°. I'm starting to see some rain on the radar, too, so I just dropped the sails and will motor on for at least part of the night. Rain certainly won't hurt me, but this time of year rain can easily be preceded by gusty winds. Dropping the sails will also allow me to change my heading back to a straighter course to my destination. I need to check the fuel level again tomorrow morning to see how it's holding out.
                  I got up early, so I'm going to catch a few winks of sleep. Good night.

Friday, September 15 - Bright and early this morning before I had a chance to even fix something to eat, I realized that there were several porpoises near the bow. I went to the bow and discovered at least a dozen there and more coming in, some of them jumping and others slapping their tails. The water is clear as can be and I could see quite deep, which made their undersides appear turquoise when they rolled over. I'm pretty sure they we aware I was at the bow because some occasionally appeared to roll over to look at me. Unfortunately, the sun was still too low to have gotten any good photographs of them. I stayed at the bow for about 20 minutes and the whole time there were some within about 5 or 6 feet of me, right under my feet while others would run off a ways, then return. I didn't tire of watching them, but realized there were things I need to do, one of which was read my diesel dipstick. I still have 45 gallons, but with the wind right on my nose, I'm not putting many miles behind me. Right after I got back to the cockpit, I heard someone hailing me. It was a large tug towing a huge oil or gas barge out to the Bahamas wanting to know my heading. I guess Island Time bounces around so much that they get questionable readings on their AIS or radar. I told him I was on a heading of 84°, and he said, "Thank you. I'll pass you to the starboard and give you plenty of room."
                  Shortly thereafter, I had another vessel hail me to ask how it was anchored at Dry Tortugas during Irma. I think he had me confused with a vessel that I may have talked with that was anchored there as I headed west. The fellow I talked to at Fort Jefferson said that the Tortugas were closed, but that he had mechanical problems, so they let him stay. He suggested I come in there too, and I almost changed my mind and went in, but declined. I think I'm glad. Steve Monaghan was planning on running to the Dry Tortugas to hide from Irma, but I suspect he would have had a tough time getting there, fighting headwinds from Ft. Myers Beach. I certainly hope he's okay. Apparently Irma passed much further west than they had thought it would and Key West appears to have been devastated. I can't get their weather reports, so I suspect that they lost their radio transmission tower. This fellow that hailed me told me not to go to Key West; the harbor is closed and they won't have water, fuel, food, or anything else. I hope that Marathon wasn't that seriously damaged...and I hope I can get there.
                  I spent the morning repairing my starboard running light. I noticed last night that it was out, so I turned on my masthead tri-light instead. The tri-light isn't supposed to be used unless you are a sailboat sailing, not motoring. I though it was more important to be seen than to follow the rules.
                  I sure wish the wind would clock around to the south so I could actually sail and quit using fuel.
                  Later...I need to be more careful for what I ask. I certainly got to sail, but not because the wind shifted. The day definitely took a turn for the worse. About 3pm I decided to take a nap so I might make it through the night better. I almost got to sleep when I heard the engine rev three times, then die. The other day it slowed down, then died, but I still suspected the fuel filters, so I quickly opened the hatch to the engine room hoping I could just switch to the other filter and restart, but what I found instead was a broken drive belt, not the one I reinstalled yesterday, but that one was probably the instigator of the mayhem. It was still in good shape, although it had come off again. I assume that it tangled with the others and came out the winner. Three of the other four were broken or shredded and the fourth has a twist in it, although it is still mounted on the sheaves. I also found a hose broken at both ends that turned out to be the main fuel line that runs from the filter selector valves to the low pressure lift pump. I found a broken 3/8" bolt that I realized should be holding the Sea Frost refrigeration compressor in place. I'm pretty sure I can find replacement bolts for that onboard, but the 3/8" hose may be a problem. Oh! and I found a freshly broken wire that I'll need to figure out what it goes to and where the other end of it is.
                  I quickly decided that my first priority needed to be to let the Coast Guard know I had a fairly serious problem, although I wasn't in danger. I also hoped that they might be possible for them to contact Tow Boat US and have them tow me to either Key West or Marathon. A Coast Guard boat showed up shortly, but let me know that Key West is totally shut down and that Marathon is in terrible shape, too. It may be days before I can get help, so I told them that since I happened to be fairly close to Fort Jefferson at the Dry Tortugas, I'd head north and anchor as soon as I could get into water shallow enough. Without an engine, I could never get into their harbor. The Coast Guard assured me that the water shoals up within a very short distance, but my charts showed it to be much further. I can only sail perpendicular to the wind without a mainsail, so I missed the end of the Marquesas Shoal by about 2 miles out of the 20 that I sailed and had to settle for a little bitty shoal that I sailed to, arriving in the dark and using only the chart plotter for guidance. Actually, that's all I could have done in the daylight because there's nothing above water here, minimum depth 16 feet; just a high spot on the bottom of the ocean. Tomorrow, I start repairs.
                  There were three bright spots today. The porpoises this morning, the depth finder resumed proper working order about the time I came from 2000 feet to 200 feet of water. I guess it was just totally out of range, but also thought they could have made it indicate that onscreen. The third was that as I unfurled the staysail something right next to my left hand caught my eye. It startled me at first, but then I realized it was simply a tern. From the looks of her drooping wings, I thought she looked very tired. She stayed on board for about 3 hours and wasn't afraid of me at all. In fact, she was quite curious. She walked around the edge of the cockpit and afterdeck, and got down on the floor of the cockpit, but when it looked like she was going to fly down into the engine room, I didn't particularly like that idea. I simply reached over and picked her up and put her back up on the cockpit seat. Perhaps she was just looking for a better place to rest. I never saw her leave.

Saturday, 16 September - I started work in the engine room this morning around 9am and finished at about 7:30pm. I replaced four out of five drive belts, leaving the belt off of the engine driven Sea Frost refrigerator compressor. I came to the realization today that all the twenty or so spare drive belts are not quite right, a real hodgepodge of mismatched odds and ends. Most of them are the wrong width. That's not a surprise. When the previous owners bought spares, they probably had to settle for as close as possible, not the perfect match. I think I'll get rid of most of them and replace them with exactly sized spares.
                  I'm not sure the refrigeration belt started all the mayhem after all. The stainless steel 5/16" bolts that hold the EchoTec water maker compressor were both broken, which would have released its belt into the others since it was the inside belt of the five. I had found a broken bolt the day before but couldn't determine where it had come from. Now I know. It matched the broken bolt laying beneath the water maker mounting bracket. In two years I still haven't used that water maker, but I'm sure I will eventually. Water's cheap here stateside, but won't be down island.
                  My hours and hours of database creation and entry are finally paying off. I would have never remembered that there was spare fuel line aboard (Thank You Rick George) but I did a search for "fuel line" on my computer and it showed I had 10 of 3/8" fuel line in the lower compartment of the starboard lazerette, on top of the Tiny Tiger generator. Anyway, I replaced those bolts and the fuel line that had been broken, then bled the fuel lines and started the engine, so everything is fine now. Well, not everything. I found the little tern dead in the dinghy this afternoon. I guess her time was up. She didn't look old, but then, I didn't know what an old tern looks like. I guess I do now.

Sunday, 17 September - I left the Marquesas Keys this morning and motor/sailed all day arriving at Key West at around 7pm. I couldn't enter the harbor, the whole harbor is shut down because of damage and salvage operations. I really didn't want to anyway. All I wanted was to tuck in on the lee side of the island and sleep it calm water. At Rebecca Shoal in the Marquesas Keys the previous night I was totally exposed to wind and waves. The wind and tidal current were such that Island Time was stern first into the waves and the boat bounced so much that the swim platform kept getting smacked from below by waves all night, and the swim platform is about a foot from where my head rests when I sleep, which I didn't do much that night. My anchorage in Key West was a dream in comparison.
                  As I approached Key West, my phone woke up and suddenly downloaded several text messages. I looked at the phone and it showed "no service." Apparently, the text messages take up so little bandwidth that they downloaded well before I could make a call. I had intended for my first call to be to my brother Mike to let him know where I was and that everything was okay, but my first call ended up being to the US Coast Guard to tell them that I saw three grounded sailboats about 3 miles from the harbor.

Monday, 18 September - There was a nice breeze all morning, but it was right on my nose as I headed east, so I had to motor. Around noon, however, the wind shifted around to the north more and I unfurled the genoa and was able to increase my speed from about 3.5 kts. to about 4.3, and later in the afternoon, over 5 kts. I wasn't paying attention and caught another lobster pot. There are thousands of them, most of which are laid out in rows or bunches, but this one was all by itself and had probably been lost for a long time. In fact, I don't think the pot was attached. There was a piece of old, waterlogged, rotten wood attached to the line, but not a trap. It still took over an hour to furl the sail, get out the grappling hook and pull up the line, only to discover that it was really all twisted up and that I was going to have to shut off the engine, don snorkel, mask, and fins, and dive down to cut the line and untangle it. I arrived outside the harbor at Marathon about dusk and tried to raise TowBoat US on the VHF radio to find out if the channel into the harbor is passable, but couldn't raise them, so I decided to anchor out and go in in the morning. I hope I can still anchor in the same place I was before. It was the only place in the anchorage that I won't drag bottom at low tide. Of course, that could be filled in now or there could be lots of deeper spots. The tidal surge is sure to have changed the harbor significantly. I'm sure there will be lots of sunken boats littering the bottom, too. Going in is going to be a real eye-opener. I'm anxious to see the carnage and the survivors as well. It's only 9:30 and I can barely stay awake, so I'm going to quit trying. Good night.

Tuesday, 19 September - The adventure isn't over yet. High tide was at 9am this morning, but I didn't know I was going to need the highest tide to get into the harbor. I listened to the Boot Key Harbor Cruiser's Net on the VHF radio this morning to hear news about the harbor and one of the boats that had gone in early this morning said that the channel was blocked with wreckage of sunken boats, but that they had passed by the #10 channel marker within touching distance and made it in with a 6 ft. draft vessel. I'm 6.5 feet deep. I approached that marker cautiously at about 10am, but ran aground in 5.5 feet three times in different spots. An hour's difference in the tide shouldn't have made but a few inches difference, but that's irrelevant; I couldn't make it in, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow's highest tide at 9:45. I'm back out anchored on the outside near where I was last night. There's plenty to do. I need to check my fuel level and try to see if there's anything I can do to repair the dinghy. I know there's one rip in it that I don't have enough material to patch. It's the starboard rear tube. If it were only the bow tube that has a problem, I might be able to get to shore carefully by keeping my weight back and the bow up, but with two tubes flat I may be in trouble.
                  Yahoo! There's good news! I still have 90 gallons of water and 35 gallons of diesel fuel! I'm amazed that this 92hp diesel engine can run all day at about 1200 - 1400 rpm and use only 5 or 6 gallons of fuel. The best news is that the dinghy only has one tube that won't hold air for at least a little while, long enough to run an errand to shore. I still have to figure out how I'm going to repair that big cut, however. You usually need to flatten the piece to be repaired and compress the repair while the glue sets, but I'm not sure how to do that on this tube and in the location of this cut. I was just going to call my go-to guy for all things sailing, Gary Powers, to get his input on this, but I see I have no cell phone service again. I just talked to Mark DeSermia on the phone about an hour ago, so I'm not sure what the problem is. I do know that the whole area was without cell service for a day or two, but thought that had been resolved.
                  I've been very concerned about the whereabouts and safety of my good friend Steve Monaghan whose boat I stayed on in Ft. Myers Beach for several weeks. He had encouraged me to meet him at the Dry Tortugas to weather the storm there, hidden in the anchorage behind the old War of 1812 fort, Fort Jefferson. I believed that to be not far enough away from Hurricane Irma, at just 70 miles from Key West, so I passed on by as I headed west. He just called me from a new phone here in Marathon. Apparently, his departure from Ft. Myers Beach was delayed by waiting for a friend that then made a last minute decision not to accompany him. His late start made it such that he had to fight tail winds all the way, then, as he made the last turn into the harbor, he couldn't power into the wind into the safe harbor. He believes that if he'd arrived there even an hour or two earlier, he'd have been fine, but instead, it took about 30 seconds for the reef to totally destroy his pride and joy dashed to smithereens on the coral, losing everything he owned. He swam ashore and was brought to Marathon by lobster fishermen that had taken refuge in Ft. Jefferson's harbor and is now hoping to get a job working for them on their boats. If not, there will be plenty of reconstruction work here in the Keys and his skills as a plumber will be in high demand, I'm sure. It's good to have you back, Steve.
                  Late in the evening, I had a chance to check out the dinghy. It has three flotation compartments and a rigid aluminum hull. One tube hold air well, one holds air but gets very soft in about 2 hours, and the third has one nine inch cut and a hole about one inch by two and a half inches in it caused by abrasion from the strap that snugged it to the radar arch where it was suspended. The good news is that it still floats well enough to support me and the engine, so I can get to shore. In fact, just before sunset, I took it over to the channel into the harbor to take some depth readings in order to find the deepest part of the channel for when I make my attempt to enter the harbor tomorrow morning. Fortunately, before I arrived, someone had come and moved a large steel hulled boat that had been blocking the channel, so I shouldn't have any problem entering tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, 20 September - Well, this episode is about ended. I came into Boot Key Harbor this morning at high tide, even though I didn't think I need the extra water since the boat had been moved to the side of the channel. I still dragged bottom in one spot that, yesterday, I did not. I made it past yesterday's bad spot, but hit some substantial object that stopped my boat a little further in. Luckily, I was proceeding at a low speed, about 2 kts., and I doubt that it will have done much more than put a good dent in the leading edge of the keel. I backed off, moved over, and proceeded without further problems. Almost all of the boats that stayed in the harbor have significant damage, groundings, broken masts, ripped off stanchions, and many sinking. One fellows 56' steel hulled boat is way back in a side channel, sitting high and dry in the mangroves. It will take a crane on a barge to extract him. Another, near me, is sitting high and dry on the concrete patio of a harbor-side home about 4 feet obove the water. Many, many total losses. I have no doubt in my mind that my last two weeks on the open water saved my boat. Thank You Lord.
                  I still have lots of work to do; mainsail repair or purchase of a new one, staysail and genoa sail minor repairs, major dinghy repairs, etc., so I guess I better finish this off and post a few pictures. I do apologize to those that I haven't made contact with since I arrived back at Marathon, but there are lots of emails, messages, and phone calls to deal with, plus the phone service has been poor and spotty, which affects the phone calls and internet service. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Now that I'm back in the harbor, perhaps the reception will get better.
                 
                  I hope you had a great two weeks. I'll talk to you next week with a report on the aftermath.