And about the Dry Tortugas

Here's a belated trip report about Dry Tortugas National Park.

The 20-hour passage from Naples was distressingly familiar. The girls and I were sick again, so Frank ended up doing most of it alone, poor guy. We made good time, though, due to some very fresh winds. We arrived at dawn at the first of the ring of lights that mark the shallow waters of the mini-archipelago. From there, it's a connect-the-dots cruise to the channel that leads to the keys within.

The main island is Garden Key, home of Fort Jefferson. The fort is a very interesting place, constructed in the 1800's for its strategic position out in the middle of the Gulf. It also did time (pun intended) as a prison, with its most famous prisoner Dr. Samuel Mudd and several other men convicted of complicity in Lincoln's assassination. (It was there that Mudd earned his pardon; he took over as post doctor after a yellow fever outbreak killed the regular doc and worked with great dedication.) Engineering and water-supply difficulties abounded, and, combined with disease and a big hurricane, led to the fort's being abandoned without ever being completed.

Nowadays, it's a fun place to explore, with three stories of pentagonal structure to wander through. (See photos at http://www.nps.gov/drto/.) It has a moat, and the sea creatures are making fine use of both sides of the wall as a handy reef. It was really wonderful to get in the water finally. Chloe and I did the most snorkeling and saw a nice variety of flashy fish and corals, but Marjie got quite close to a big barracuda under the pier. They are pretty creepy to encounter, what with the way they just hang there watching you, and she cracked me up with the less than ladylike exclamation that escaped lips and snorkel.

There were several boats in the anchorage when we arrived, a couple of sailboats and a variety of fishing boats, but there was far less tour-boat traffic than we'd been led to expect. A seaplane or two came out once or twice a day, and a couple of big catamarans (the powerboat kind) came every day from 11 to 2. It was fun to watch the traffic - especially the seaplanes - and we ended up having a really fun chat with a Scottish man and his two teenaged sons. We also made the acquaintance of the folks aboard the Delfina 2, a Catalina 38 that we first saw in Naples. They kept trying to leave but a persistent overheating problem kept bringing them back. We could relate!

Wilma soon became the dominant topic of conversation among visitors and staff. We had one day - ONE DAY - where we felt really relaxed, thinking she was heading straight north to Texas or (gulp) Louisiana. That didn't last long. Tuesday morning's trip to the dock to see the latest tracking maps revealed the updated forecast path, with the Tortugas in the crosshairs.

We made plans to depart Wednesday, taking the trip to Key West in two hops, with an overnight stop at the Marquesas preserve. A visit and strong recommendation from the ranger scotched that plan, and we ended up hustling to get ready and leave Tuesday afternoon with Delfina. With only about a quarter of all we wanted to do in the Dry Tortugas done, we headed out together, to discover the upsides and downsides of making passage with another boat. Delfina has fancier navigational equipment than the ZP, so they took the lead. That was comforting, and the company was nice. But they also had a questionable engine and less fuel than us, so we ended up following as they tacked their way east (upwind). Plus, we're slower than they are (partially on purpose, with sails reefed in to keep the boat level enough to avoid scaring the krewe), which must have been irritating for them.

After a very rolly start, the seas and winds leveled out. About midnight, with everybody obviously safe, we parted ways with Delfina and motored on in to Key West (while they kept sailing). Miracle moment of the night: Keeping to Frank's excellent course, I not only motored directly to an unlighted channel marker a few miles from Key West, I didn't hit the damned thing even though I didn't see it til I was right on top of it.

Fortune favors the foolish.

I do love nighttime sailing, though, when the seas are calm and the skies are clear. It was full moon time for this one, playing peek-a-boo in enchanting fashion through banks of drifting clouds. And after doing it twice, I think dawn is my favorite time to come into port. You can see all the channel markers really well in the dark - the lighted ones anyway ;-) - and then the sun comes up in time to help you find your anchorage or marina. I've seen much more of sunrise than I'm accustomed to these past weeks. :-)

KQR