(See posts below for Background and Part One)
Not a bad place to wake up on Tuesday (Day 4) Morning
I left Kice island soon after dawn much better rested after two consecutive good nights' sleep
It was another hot morning of pedalling across flat calm Gullivan Bay to Indian Key.
I saw the Double Vision guys across the bay and converged towards them for a while but they were pedalling their heavier boat
(two TI's they'd joined into a cat)
I had the sail out for a while, mainly to act as a vertical bimini, put me in some shade.
My legs felt like they were burning even with the Factor 50 sunblock. By this point I had slightly painful sunburn on my lip from not wearing that buff enough. It looks like a piratical style statement but there's a reason all the locals wear one.
When a gentle breeze arrived I could stop pedalling and treated my legs to a saltwater towel wrap. You could probably pay a lot of money for this treatment in a spa.
Arrived at Chokoloskee just before high tide to find only a couple of boats there which surprised me. In hindsight maybe it shows how stretched the race had become by this point because of the light to no wind conditions. I expected a lot of people would have planned for this tide because of the ability to visit the Havana Cafe.
I had a strip wash in this bathroom which felt super luxurious, cleaned my teeth for the first time this trip, put on a clean rash vest....
and walked up to the Cafe which was a useful stretch in itself, ordered a beer and some delicious food, including a cuban sandwich to go which kept me fed for the next 12 hours.
Back at the beach several boats had now come in and the wind had risen. There was lots of talk of the Small Craft Advisory Warning for later.
I drysuited up and headed off to the surreal Rabbit Key passage out of Chokoloskee.
It's an unmarked channel where you appear to be heading directly into the mangroves, trusting your GPS and at the last minute a gap appears.
Once I got Gulf side it was spinnaker wind, (first spinnaker set of the EC this year) nicely to the north, choppy but the spinnaker helps lift the bows up so even though it's less controllable it felt like the right sail choice. I could see darker clouds at the horizon (behind me in photo) but hoped to at least make Turkey or Plover Key before it got nasty.
In the event it got nasty quickly, one of those blows where you are amazed the mast doesn't go over, and thanking the people at Hobie for this amazing design. I screamed into the lee of Plover Key to douse the spinnaker. Of course it did what spinnakers do and got itself snarled around the lee ama (outrigger) to become a sheet anchor bringing the boat to a standstill in what were now quite rough seas. I had to climb out on the tramp, lean over the outrigger bows, undo the halyard bowline, let the halyard go whipping up over the mast head releasing the tension out of the system, then I could bundle the soggy spinnaker back into its bag. I unfurled the main and pedalled and sailed furiously upwind over to Plover Key. In the dusk I could see a sandy bottom below and a tideline over on the island so the tide wasn't high. The boat could settle on the sand overnight. I anchored up thinking that in 12 hours time the tide ought to be in a similar place. I could either walk or swim back to it. Waded ashore with the 'tent' and 'bed' drybags and made camp. Two pairs of eyes looked back at my headtorch. I went towards them because I wanted to see what kind of wildlife was around. For once , and unlike at Ft Desoto campground, I was happy to see racoons. I took this to mean there was unlikely to be any bigger creature on the island.
The gaps between those (every 10 minutes) yellow triangles show when I was going fast or slow
Listening to the wind howl over my private island I had yet another full night's sleep (not comfortable because I was on a bed of broken shells but a good long time not moving the boat)
Woke up at first light and went to have a number 2 and check the boat was still there. It was marooned a long way from the water. Looked very East Anglian coast to my eye. So much for my guesstimate of tidal range.
Got the 'Marty rollers' out (A Walmart exercise roller cut in two as a poor man's kayak cart which also adds useful extra buoyancy in the hull) and rolled it towards the water where I set about re-stepping the mast with the spinnaker halyard and practised hoisting the spinnaker to see how snafu'd it had got. Very. This all took the best part of an hour.
Once underway I was really pleased to see other sails around. LowRider and the double vision guys and another red double TI.
They all seemed to have more sail set than me, I was happy to let them catch up but then I looked around and both TIs had headed left, I thought they might have beached to bail out because with that press of sail I thought they'd be shipping some water.
I carried on solo on the same tack all the way down the coast until it ended at what I thought was probably Ponce De Leon Bay but when I checked the Garmin it was actually Cape Sabel.
I'd made much better time than expected and now had to head East. The wind also shifted to the East as it famously does around this headland so it took a few more hours to tack up to Flamingo.
I also got a 'phone signal from the mast at CP3 so was trying to read a day or so of Colin's texts while not falling off the wind too much. LowRider's sails were up ahead.
Arrived to a great reception from the CP3 captain Kayakman asking if I'd like a beer and a burger. Bud light never tasted so good.
Its always Charlie's birthday on the EC and I take a birthday cake bar with me. Happy 30th to my little boy!
That's JF, LowRider beside me. He'd designed and built his own boat.
Got the tent up during what I was warned was bug hour. The Double Vision guys arrived. They'd cut through Whitewater Bay and portaged from the freshwater to salt water ramps at CP3 on their wheels. It looked like a Batmobile.
There was talk of crossing that night. A 2am start would apparently give the best tidal push but I didn't want to go into Florida Bay with its notorious shallows and quicksand-like bottomless mud in the dark.
Woke up lots in the night. Every night on the EC I slept with earplugs in. They live in a small pocket inside the tent along with a small hand sanitiser which is my end of the day 'wash' kit.
Tonight the earplugs were especially ineffective against halyards slapping on masts, Double Vision making their 2am start, fishermen launching with the stereo turned up on the ramp next to me from about 4am and Manatees having sex. Yes its their season and the Flamingo basin is one of their favourite spots apparently.
Up at first light, saw another double TI had arrived in the night and was about to depart so I rushed to try and leave within sight of them and Low Rider.
Both boats took different routes from the one I had programmed in, last year's route with lots more waypoints added.
My confidence in my route was shaken early when I saw birds standing ahead on what the Garmin confirmed was last year's track. I glided to a halt on some sea grass and it took a while to get out. There was one more time during the day that I got stuck and had to put a foot out to push off. At the time it's worrying but in hindsight I was lucky. Double Vision spent 3 hours stuck and there are stories of people waiting out two tide changes because when the wind has blown hard there's insufficient water left in the bay to float a boat.
Those abrupt changes of direction on the map aren't tacks. My tacks were too numerous for the tracker to pick up. Those changes above are when you have to go through a narrow channel of withies/sticks in the mud to get across shallow patches. It's a Dali-esque landscape of endless water with the crucial withies appearing in the heat haze
Photos above show mud just about visible not far from the channel, see why I didn't want to attempt this at night. I was grateful for the glare-free view my Oakleys gave of the sea bottom.
These channels often involved some fighting because the strong headwind tried to push the bows into the mud either side of the channel.
Several times the wind won and I found myself needing to try and pedal/gybe her round 180 degrees while also pushing off with the paddle in a channel not much wider than the boat is long. In one of these, the Jimmie Channel the steering knob snapped (my only breakage of the trip) but I could still use the stump of it.
In the afternoon the wind increased to what I assumed was small craft advisory levels, explaining why I hadn't seen any other vessels for hours. The best way to wake progress was with the sailed reefed back to just the rear two battens, this gave 2 knots and then to pedal adding another knot. Crucially the pedalled knot helped keep the boat pointing better but I still had lots of frustrating tacks where I seemed to have made no forward progress for long periods. The boat needs two hands all this time so eating or drinking were out.
Eventually I fought her into the lee of an island, Bottle Key, just to stop, get my breath back, eat, drink, pee. It was so peaceful in there that I thought of staying the night even though I was only 7 miles from the finish.
The phone had a few texts from Colin including the news that I was leading my solo TI class but that NowhereMan had left Flamingo, CP3 and was catching me. I thought it would be annoying to wake up in the morning and find he'd nicked my victory. Plus the tide looked like being highest at the finish around 10.30pm and I thought that's when I'd arrive with it under me so at 4.30 I set off to fight the last 7 miles.
I figured I'd walk the boat along the muddy coast of the island and this 20 minute cooling walk would save me about 90 minutes of tacking. Happy Face.
Towards dusk I made it into the lee of Key Largo, the wind dropped so I could unfurl full sail and stop pedalling. Just before a beautiful pink Floridian sunset a flock of pink flamingos flew over. Good way to end.
End I did at about 8.30pm and was met by Dana (Mr Mako) with a beer and pizza.
Today was second only to that stupid first night pedal as the hardest days of a very hard Everglades Challenge. I felt very challenged because I did so much of it on my own. But also very pleased because I met the challenges and generally did the right thing.
I was the first solo TI to finish. Poor Nowhereman had to turn back to CP3. I was the only solo TI (of 7 starters) to finish this year's EC. So, as Colin immediately pointed out, I came first but also last in my class.