The Dry Tortugas are the last stop in the westward chain of the Florida Keys, a 75 mile sail from Boca Chica to the anchorage. A collection of small islands and reefs, the main island is now a national park, which houses Fort Jefferson, a Civil War era fort used to imprision Dr. Mudd, the doctor who treated John Wilkes Booth, Abraham Lincoln's assassin.
In May, a group from Boca Chica, which grew to include 2 power boats and 7 sailboats, decided to visit the Dry Tortugas. The trip, as with most cruises, became a collection of high points and disasters, bonding us into true boating buddies.
The wind was never with us. We managed 2 hours of sailing during the 11 hour day, but arrived around 5pm to a spectacular cruising ground. A Cinco de Mayo celebration aboard Blue Grotto followed.
The moat surrounded fort fills the island and makes
for wonderful views. In addition to arriving in your own boat, you can come on the fast ferry from Key West or fly in by seaplane.
Like the Caribbean, the waters of the Dry Tortugas are pristine.
The sunsets are beautiful, Loggerhead Key lighthouse is visible across the water. We enjoyed great times with friends, kite flying, snorkeling on Loggerhead Key, visiting the fort, and taking pictures of it all.
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| Rick and Richard |
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| Snorkeling trip to Loggerhead Key |
Those were the highlights, the low spots were quick to follow. After 2 perfect nights and one glorious day, a front moved in. Our group, minus one boat, panicked after listening to a weather forecast and decided to head for home at 10am on our second day there. You might think we are a bunch of sissies, but just to let you know, the boat that chose to stay was trapped there for two weeks! The rest of us sprinted, in a sailboat like fashion, back toward Key West. Mostly we motor sailed over rocky seas with winds increasing steadily as we got closer to home.
Within an hour of the Northwest Channel entrance to Key West, Wind Dancer's main halyard broke and the sail began to sink down the mast. It had to be taken down....and that took two if us. With the boat on autopilot we stood on the deck, bouncing and rocking across the water, pulling down and tying the sail to the boom. This delay meant we entered the channel after dark, navigating by chart and the blinking lights of the channel markers, we threaded our way up the channel as the winds increased to 26 knots. The original plan was to anchor in the lee of Wisteria Island, protected from the wind by the island complex. The sky was pitch black and the lights from Key West Harbor blinded us as we followed Atlantica and Emerald City, two of the five boats traveling together. Suddenly, we realized that the lights just in front of us were NOT those of Emerald City, but an anchored houseboat. Rick slammed the wheel hard to the right, and an unlit ketch, also anchored, loomed up from that direction. ENOUGH! We decided to return to Boca Chica even though it meant returning in the dark up the unlit channel to the marina.
Black Pearl, another of our companion boats, was still under sail and needed to lower the sail in the protection of Key West Harbor, but, the fifth boat, which was new to the area decided to follow us back to Boca Chica. We left the shelter of Key West Island, facing the force of the wind, gusting into the high 20s, with the tide opposing the wind. We have no idea the size of the waves, because we couldn't see them! We do know that between the wind and waves, our top speed while moving through the channel was 2.8 knots. Advancing to the entrance of Boca Chica channel was pretty stressful, but the worst was yet to come. Shinning our flashlight on the channel markers, Cookie yelled out directions to Rick, who steered. There were moments of alarm, while looking for the next marker. We edged slowly up the channel with George and Karen on Sunseeker so close behind us that if we'd hit anything, both boats were down.
Arriving in the marina basin should have been a relief, but looking at the reflective markers in the channel caused night blindness. Suddenly the moored boats became obstacles. We couldn't see them until we were almost upon them. A lot of circling and weaving took place. Cookie took the helm, while Rick tied on fenders and mooring lines. Then, the wonderful miracle of excellent friends. Even though it was almost midnight, our dock was lined with friends ready to take our lines and bring us safely into our slip. You can't have a more satisfying trip than that.
