From

To all our readers; These pages are dedicated to keeping you updated on the voyage of the Leprechaun, whose 6 month voyage through the Caribbean with USCG Aux crewmen aboard is exciting and something most of us can only dream about.

E-mails and pictures will be dated, edited if necessary, and chronologically ordered as they come to us.

I hope you are all following our progress with interest. By now, most of you have seen the SPOT track John D. sent out. It is truly a remarkable tool.

The trip has gone well. We've had excellent days with a lot of fun. Leaving the FWYC at dawn,

we traveled through the ditch to Panama City where we spent the night at the PC Yacht Club at an excellent location east of the city.

Unfortunately the club was closed on Monday and we didn't get a chance to sample their excellent cuisine. We left at dawn the next morning and traveled the Inter coastal Waterway (ICW) to Apalachicola.

Rich Webb and Dave Olsen piloting on the ICW. Opened Railroad bridge on the ICW.

Frank Allen handling lines. Passing thru Apalachicola underway to entering Gulf.

As we pulled in, two boats were pulling out on their way to Clearwater in advance of last week's storm. After conferring amongst ourselves, we decided to keep going, a decision that turned out fortuitous.

Sunset on Gulf underway to Venice, FL. Curt Waier, Dave Olsen, and Frank Allen on Bridge.

The night crossing went well except for a boat that came up along side and tracked us for a couple of miles, alarming the crew. I got up and called him on the radio, identifying ourselves as Coast Guard facility 7670 and asking if they needed help. Their captain replied and said he was concerned that we needed help. He split off soon after. There was possibly some truth to his statement in that our VHF radio was receiving but not transmitting, due to the boat detailers nicking the antenna lead with their buffer. The next night we spent at the Venice Yacht Club, a very nice place, and had a great dinner.

The next morning an electrician recommended by the dockmaster came by and repaired the lead. We left fairly early, without topping off the tanks because of the YC's high priced fuel.

Fortunately, we came to a marina just south of there and refueled at a lower, but still outrageous, price. This turned out to be our bad day. We left on a rising tide and by the time we reached Lemon Bay on the ICW inside passage south, we were plowing through mud, and ended up hard aground.

I called SeaTow and was told that they would have to charge us unless we waited till high tide, (eight o'clock that evening). I gave the manager a ration and hung up. I was about to call Tow Boat US when I noticed one of their boats off our bow and waived him over. After verifying our membership and talking with his manager who was reluctant to step on Sea Tow's toes, he pulled us off with great difficulty. We then worked our way south through skinny water to Tween Waters and anchored out. That night, an unexpected local four foot tide left us high and dry. We laid over a second day and had a good time taking a long walk into town and having lunch. That evening I introduced the crew to the joys of playing an old British card game, Whist a noisy affair. The next morning, at high tide, we left at dawn and were glad to get out of that anchorage.

The next day, we had a good run to the Naples Yacht Club. The club had a party that night, so we called the nearby Naples Sailing and Yacht Club for dinner reservations. The club was very gracious and sent a car to pick up. They also reserved a special slip along the outer wall for the next night.

The club was elegant and the dinner outstanding. Initiation fees for the club were $25K (I think I'll pass). The next day we cleaned the boat thoroughly and early the following morning Curt and Frank departed for home. Earlier, Curt had discovered a leak in the generator which turned out to be the water pump, so that morning the dockmaster took me to a couple of marine supply stores, but they were unable to help.

We left around eight and had a comfortable trip to Little Shark River in Everglades National Park. It was late when we entered the inlet and we were concerned over water depth. There was enough water at the mouth and, once inside the depth went to ten plus feet. It was absolutely beautiful with a canopy of Mangrove and hardwood trees over forty feet high. There was no one else to be seen, a real forest primeval. Unfortunately we only saw birds, egrets, ibises, and buzzards, no alligators, probably because of the mangrove roots and no solid shoreline. We barbequed steaks that night and had a great meal. We were visited by no-seeums and mosquitoes who feasted on Rick.

We left early and slogged our way southward through Florida bay, dodging a myriad of crab pots, and coping with an east wind on our beam with gusts of 20 knots. We made a bee-line for the Marathon Yacht Club and docked facing north without difficulty. I had arranged by phone to pick up a water pump a few blocks away and Rick and I walked over to pick it up $463 (I wanted to cry).

One humorous event that occurred as we neared Marathon was a visit by a Coast Guard Patrol boat that came up on our stern without warning. I had been laying down (everything happens when I'm not at the helm) and came on deck about the same time as two of their finest climbed on to our swim platform. I asked the lead, a handsome young man who was friendly enough, if he realized they had just boarded a Coast Guard facility 3076 - the expression on his face

was priceless. He wanted to now if we patrolled regularly in the area. We shook hands; their leader on the boat told them they had a case and to return, and that was that.

On the twenty-first we had our first manatee sighting. An enormous animal eating moss off a boat docked two slips away. He was unperturbed with us just a couple of feet away and really appreciated our offering of a hose with fresh tap water which he swallowed. Phil has pictures.

A buffet dinner at the yacht club last night was excellent and a couple of us (no names) had to be wheeled out in a wheelbarrow. This morning, Rick changed out the pump and the sacrificial zinc on the generator. We're going to miss him, but as of right now, he plans to take a bus to Miami to pick up a rental car, come back here for his gear and spend the night and leave before dawn. The dinghy outboard is still acting irregular and we're hoping to find a technician to tune it up. We also need to top off fuel before making the big jump and are looking for the best source.

Nov 27, 2007

We are still in Marathon. The seas have abated and we're ready to go. Mike Allen will arrive shortly by bus having been caught in the delays at Atlanta. The outboard parts overnighted from Atlanta have arrived and we're trying to track down the technician. It's now two pm and our four o'clock departure is in jeopardy. Earlier, we took the boat to a nearby fishing cooperative and ran aground in the middle of the opening at mid tide. After a struggle, we broke free with no apparent damage to the boat. There's a saying, something about trials and tribulations...

Anyway, because of lost time and the outrageous cost of fuel, we have again modified our route. Attached are the replacement charts which show us going directly from Marathon to S. Riding Rocks (122 nm) and from there to Chub Cay (another 72 nm). We will leave around four pm, refuel in Boot Key Harbor and head out, with expected arrival at the rocks after dawn. If everything is going smoothly, we'll probably run from there to Chub without stopping. If not, we'll drop the hook and rest until the next morning. This change drops a couple of stops off the list and saves us around 45 nm (- 6 hrs).

We've advanced. After finally getting the dinghy outboard operative, we left Thursday night at around four pm. The good news is that the engine now operates in a manner it never has before, starting immediately and idling at a much slower speed, allowing you to shift gears without abruptly transitioning to a higher than idle speed that made it hard to handle. It also goes up on plane right away without stalling when you first apply acceleration. The bad news is that between repairs of the generator and dinghy and waiting for a weather window, we lost several days.

After transiting the seven mile bridge, we refueled at Boot Key in Marathon and got underway from there at around six. With Phil flashing the crab-pots with Frank's high beam light and Mike on watch we made our way out through the reef at Sombrero Key, dodging the myriad crab pots that seemed to go on forever, and reached open ocean in about an hour. The evening started out pleasant enough with estimated wave height of two to four feet, but later that night we fought against waves Dick estimated as high as ten to twelve feet, out in the stream. We ran a four hour staggered watch, but the incessant pitching fatigued everyone. When I resumed my watch at two, I found Mike slumped in the fly-deck chair, mumbling that he was not enjoying this. Three hours later, the seas quieted, to everyone's relief. At around six, we arrived at South Riding Rock with a beautiful sunrise and an incredible panorama of clear aqua colored sea with negligible wave height. We quickly decided to continue on to Chub Cay. The passage across the banks in waters averaging ten feet was pleasant and everyone recovered.

Unfortunately, someone forgot to tightly dog the forward hatches in the V-birth, resulting in wet bedding and about six inches of water in the forward hold, which I bailed out. I was not a happy camper. We had to wash bedding and towels and some of Ken's clothing he had stashed in the hold. We moved the mattress out on the back deck and let it dry in the sun.

We arrived at the Chub Cay marina just at dark. A tender met us and led us to a very nice anchorage deep inside the labyrinth of floating docks. Docking went well, and, although Customs had closed and we thought we would have to stay on board until we could clear in the mornng, the marina people said it would be all-right if we ate dinner at their restaurant. Dick and I had a seafood laced paella and Phil and Mike, grouper which was quite good. The restaurant prices were comparable to the states. Not so, the docking fees which were $3.50 per foot, less 20% with a $40 charge for electricity .

The reason I'm up this early is that the aft toilet is now acting up and refusing to turn off. I will have to change out the duck valves which I'm really looking forward to. Where's my son-in-law when I need him (inside joke - he changed them for me the last time)?

Remember what I said about the difference between an adventure and a vacation?

If we reach Nassau tonight, we'll still be in pretty good shape schedule wise, having picked up time by leaving from Marathon and going directly to Chub Cay. We'll spend a day in Nassau and head for the Exumas where warm weather and white sands beacon. We'll need to move rapidly to Georgetown and then on to Provo where the crew would like to spend time before departing for the holidays.

Chub Cay - a good day all around. That morning, I and two other captains who came in during the night were picked up and driven to customs at the airport. The female official was courteous and intelligent and everything went smoothly. She accepted travelers checks, thereby relieving my cash drain. My two co-travelers were interesting people, a doctor who practices in Denver and has a second home on Amelia Island, and a Dane with a South African wife, plus two kids and another female on board. He was fairly young and, when asked what he did for a living, said he cleared mine fields. He said he had been working at it steadily for the last eight years and became worried about how long he could go without a fatal accident. So, he and his family flew to Ft. Lauderdale, bought a boat and had been cruising for several months. His plan is to winter in Trinidad.

We left Chub at around ten for Nassau. The seas were four to six feet, but nothing like the night crossing from Marathon. We arrived at the Harbor Marina at around five-thirty and docked without difficulty. Mike, who has taken up the role of chef, had been cooking for the last hour or so underway and when we finished tying up we had a delicious chicken casserole waiting for us.

Later that evening, we went grocery shopping at a large store across from the marina. December 1 was a good day - no systems breakdowns, no one killed his fellow crewmate, and we had a pleasant evening eating and drinking wine on the afterdeck.

Dick and Phil decided to forgo a trip to Atlantis. Mike and I had already seen it and had already come to that decision. So, we took advantage of the flat rate for water and washed down the boat, not knowing when we would be able to do so again.

After topping off the fuel, we made our way to Allan Cay, just north of Highbore Cay to see the Iguanas. It turned out to be quite an experience. As we approached shore in the dingy, they descended on us. We weren't sure if they were expecting food or defending their territory. We counted as many as seventeen. Mike walked a short length of shore, but quickly changed his mind - they are one ugly animal.

Allan Cay was a beautiful anchorage. I cooked a casserole with Italian sausages, bell peppers, onions, and ziti that was at least filling. It had all the appearances of another ideal day. Then Phil came to me with the bad news - a pin in the control mechanism for the davit had broken off and we had no way of bringing the dinghy on board. We discussed work around plans but decided to tackle the problem in the morning. I went to bed and the rest of the crew watched a DVD Phil brought. Around nine-fifteen Mike walked outside to check our position and came running in to tell us we were about to hit the rocks - with the combination of heavy winds and surf from a storm moving through, the anchor failed to hold. Dick immediately ran to the bow and brought in the anchor while I started the engines. We got back in the narrow channel and then realized reanchoring in the dark surrounded by several boats was not workable. I brought up the route map on the chart-plotter, and by retracing our track, we made our way to the open banks. This left us the problem with the dinghy which we could only tow at around four knots. I took the helm while Phil and Mike hot wired the controller. Sometime around mid-night we got the dinghy back on board. We continued to run all night until six am with the beginning of daylight. The anchorage I had selected was dicey even during the day, and Mike researched the charts and came up with an alternate just to the west of Big Major. We anchored in eleven feet of water with several other boats dispersed over the large anchorage. With the wind from the east we were no longer on a lee shore. After all that, no one could sleep and we dropped the dinghy and went around the comer to Staniel Cay, a modest collection of native houses with a couple of stores and two not very inviting marinas. Staniel Cay is famous for the feral pigs who swim out to your dinghy and beg handouts (carrots). Phil took some great pictures. Later, Mike visited the Thunderball grotto and came back highly impressed.

Another of Mike's contributions was diving on the props and cutting loose a large number of crab pot lines wrapped around the starboard shaft.

We left Staniel Cay early in the morning and quickly discovered another major problem. The chart-plotter showed the ship going in the opposite direction and we couldn't use the autopilot track mode. This apparently occurred when I turned off the autopilot the day before in an attempt to minimize the loads on the house battery. As an aside, we had dropped the dinghy with the engines off and drew the batteries down to the red area. We maintained the battery by running the generator for several hours a couple times a day, but that was not an acceptable long term solution.

As a result I took the helm and piloted the boat using the AUTO feature. Since we needed help, we decided to forgo Cave Cay as the next anchorage and went instead to the settlement of Little Farmer's Cay where we picked up a mooring ball.

Farmer's Cay was a delightful experience. During the day, Mike walked the entire island, meeting with the teacher and pupils in the one room school, the scout master, and stopping to help a man and his wife raise a wall in the house they were building. We had lunch and dinner at Ocean Cabin restaurant, a non-descript building on the outside, but immaculate on the inside. The proprietor, Terry Bain, his wife Ernestine (the cook) and his ten year old daughter treated us to wonderful meals and great conversation.

The next morning, we got underway early. We were unable to find anyone to help with the autopilot/chart-plotter problem, so I called Sandie and had her get in touch with Raymarine for me rather than sit on the line at $2/minute. She did a great job describing the problem to the technical rep and came back to me with a recommended fix which only took a few minutes to implement. I was very relieved to see the boat going in the right direction while operating in the track mode. I'm still concerned about the root cause, however.

We exited the banks at Little Farmer's cut and found the ocean almost flat. Phil fished as we made our way to Georgetown without incident, tying up at Exhuma Docking Services. The docking rate was a whopping $0.85 per foot. After securing the boat, Dick and I walked the town which is small and clamorous with cars darting about the narrow roads, honking their horns at every opportunity. One interesting sight was the school children all dressed in clean uniforms. The girls wore mid length skirts with bright red knee length stockings. The most impressive building in town is the Episcopal Church.

This morning I listened to the weather on SSB which is turning foul. There is a fair amount of wave action in the harbor and a gale is expected by mid-week. We're going to be here for awhile.

Eight days of layover in George Town will turn anyone stir crazy. The town is a bit seedy, but interesting. The restaurants are mediocre and expensive. Mike and Phil toured the island (Grand Exhuma) on motorbikes which earned Phil his moniker 'Easy Rider.' We have a picture of him with his helmet on in which he looks like a slightly aged motorcycle cop. G. Town has its plusses, but I can't understand people who anchor and live aboard their boats down there for months on end. We did have good communications through an inexpensive WIFI carrier ($15/wk) and spent much of our mornings listening to Chris Parker and downloading weather info. If you haven't downloaded U-Grib files yet, try it.

Dec 13, 2007, Hello from George Town -
>
> As you might expect, we are tired of G Town. We've tried most of the
> restaurants, expensive and just OK; we've hiked in every direction,
> especially Mike who did 25 miles one day; Mike and Phil rented scooters and
> rode far an wide; and we've socialized with a diverse crowd that includes a
> Frenchman delivering used bicycles to Haiti on a humanitarian mission, a
> Columbian who with a captain who ought to know better that is taking a 40'
> Silverton directly across from Jamaica to Cartegena, and others.
>
> We have just about run out of time and hope to leave early tomorrow morning
> for a direct run to Provo. To get there in time to meet everyone's
> commitments, we've had to forgo Rum Cay and Long Island, which I had
> greatly hoped to see. The lesson learned was clearly stated by the captain
> of a large Catamaran docked a couple of slips over, who said he tells his
> guests that he will meet them either at a specific time or a specific
> location, but not both. After our spectacular start across the gulf, we
> thought we were well ahead of schedule, but two looong layovers waiting
> for a weather window have used up our time. If nothing else untoward
> happens, we will leave tomorrow (Dec 14), and should be in Provo on or
> about the 17th. That should at least give us some time to snorkel and
> checkout the Caicos and maybe, Turks.
>
> I've opened an e-mail account with Gmail, since I can receive, but have not
> been able to get anything out over Cox - Sandie, please check with Cox and
> see if you can find out why. I called their tech support when in Marathon
> and did not get a satisfactory answer. Also, if you receive this, please
> let me know. Otherwise, for all I know it is just another message lost in
> cyberspace.
>
> Also, please send me Warren Hutton's e-mail address, along with USCG
> Patton's and the Daily Mail's Wendy Victoria.
>
> Those of you who on future crews need to get your telephone's set up for
> international calls - I've tried to contact Frank, Allison, Rick and others
> but the calls are blocked. Frank and John should be able to track me down
> in Provo, but Dick H and Allison, I recommend we make trail calls to avoid
> disconnects down stream. As we've found out - WiFi is neat, but sporadic.
>
> Also, I've attempted to send reports out through Phil who's been able to get
> out through AOL. Let me know if you have not received the first three.
> Frank, please make sure W. Hutton and Ken Payon have them.
>
> Dave

Phil, Mike and I took off at seven am. Dick Gercak, concerned than any further weather layovers would jeopardize his chances of getting home by Christmas, opted to fly home. With only a two day weather window, our plan was to attempt to go directly to Providenciales. Following Van Sant's advice, we decided to poke our nose around the north tip of Long Island and make a determination of whether to go on. If the winds were too strong, we would turn back and anchor at Calabash Bay . If again delayed significantly, Mike and Phil would fly back to G.Town and depart there. When we rounded the headland, the wave heights were greater, but it was somewhat expected and we continued on. Unfortunately, they didn't abate and at times for the next two hours were as high as twelve feet - a bit scary. We talked about turning back, but, afraid of broaching if we tried turning

the bat, we stuck it out. It now became apparent that, with limited sleep the night before, we lacked the stamina to continue to Provo , so we considered the options and decided on Rum Cay, only twenty miles away. About an hour out, the waves abated somewhat and we entered the somewhat tricky Somner Harbor without difficulty. At first, it looked like a bad choice, the docks and pilings were old, we were too late to make reservations at the restaurant and, from there, the island didn't look that appealing. None of us wanted to cook, so Marsha the dock master's wife arranged some take-out from a friend of hers.

The issue of wave height bears a closer look. VanSant strongly urges boaters to veer north to Conception and then south east to Rum, rather than turning east at Cape Santa Maria. Trying to read between the lines, I thought his comments pertained to sailboats which have problems pointing into the wind, and didn't want to add the greater distance. As it turns out, Deja vu encountered the same twelve foot seas the next day and also got beat up pretty bad. Another boat that left G. Town a day later followed Van Sant's advice and had a much better time of it. I also talked to one of the locals who said the recombination of the eastbound waves split north and south of Rum Cay along with rebounding waves off the eastern tip of Long Island made this a notorious place all year around.

The next morning, much rested, we looked around and decided we could spend another day there. The latest weather reports had improved and Sunday wave height predictions were lower. Mike and I started on a long walk and were picked up by a friendly native who gave us a ride into town. After a hour or so, we returned and started looking for a restaurant that served lunch, when Leslie from the Ocean Pearl, another yacht in the marina, stopped in her rented golf cart and offered to show us the far south side of the island. We saw where a gigantic marina complex on the order of Chub Cay had been partially excavated and abandoned and went on where we walked pristine beaches looking for shells. After returning to the docks, Mike and Phil sub-let the golf cart and drove to the eastern end of the island. They came back excited about the lovely beaches and sea caves. That night, they went to a wedding in town where everyone was invited. Lots of pictures and discussions with many locals resulted in Mike and Phil going native. When we departed the next day, they told everyone they would be back.

Sunday morning, having worked backwards for a daylight arrival in Provo at an assumed 6 knots (against 1.5 knots of current), we departed at nine am. There were to be three us, with Ocean Pearl and another yacht, Deja vu, bringing up the rear. Unfortunately, Ocean Pearl went aground just outside the marina and lost an hour or so being pulled off. Deja vu, with a young Canadian couple, had trouble with their VHF and were relying on a hand held with limited range. Starting out, we ran into uncomfortable wave heights, but decided to continue. We stayed in contact with Ocean Pearl for a while, but lost contact late in the afternoon. We were not able to communicate with Deja vu and relied on relays from O.P. That afternoon, having started out at an average 6.5 knots against waves flowing east to west, we picked up a stream and rode it at 8 + knots for several hours. During the night, we went through the Plana passage, a bit anxious, but supported without problem by Leprechaun's excellent nav system. We were now, ahead of our schedule, and rolled into the north shore of Provo at around twelve am. On the way in, we were greeted by a pair of frolicking right whales off to our starboard. The entrance to Turtle Cove Marina is tricky, so we asked and were led in by a guide boat. Monday, December 17, after 27 hours in seas up to two miles deep we were delighted to step ashore.

The marina at Turtle Cove is very nice with several restaurants, car rentals, and other stores nearby. On Tuesday, we rented a car and toured the island. On the east end, we visited a commercial conch farm where they were raising the creatures in large circular pens off-shore. An interesting conclusion to the tour occurred when the guide picked up large tame male and female conch who came out of their shell when he lifted them up. That afternoon, we ate lunch at a conch cafe where we watched them remove them from the shell. Later that afternoon, Mike and I went snorkeling at a good spot near the marina. That night, we celebrated with dinner at Baci's an upscale Italian restaurant with our friends from Ocean Pearl who showed up that afternoon, having spent the previous night at anchor in Mayaguana.

On Wednesday, we went out for our last breakfast together. Mike and Phil presented me with a thank-you gift, an insulated pot handler, and suggested that I improve my cooking skills for the benefit of the next crew.

In summary, we have completed leg 1, over twelve hundred miles. A lot of fun, no major illnesses/injuries, some trepidation and at least one harrowing experience.

I'm looking forward to spending the holidays with my wife who flies in on Christmas Eve and to seeing my daughter and her family just after the start of the new year. I hope all of you have a great holiday and am looking forward to arrival of Frank, John, and Joe, the next crew.