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Day 2: Camp 1 to (past) Camp 2 After a fairly miserable night with my burgee snapping in the ever-increasing wind, we woke up to a near dead calm. Crap.
Another perfectly timed launch precisely at our previously agreed upon 6am, only it was more like 7, maybe 7:30. Note the lack of reefs and slack telltales.
Damn, that's a purty sight.
Rick and Sean, wafting along.
Even though we were just poking along, the natives came out to see the slowest boat parade on record.
A Sea Pearl - I cannot remember this man's name, but this boat was the one that took us out to rescue Big John and his cousin at Paul's Mott in 2012.
Break. We'd have periodic stops to regroup the 'Duck flock - sailing together is shockingly difficult - both in concept and practice.
Scott drifting by under bare poles.
Another scrum of 'Ducks. We'd put in a reef in anticipation of rising winds.
Look closely at the horizon on this picture: Wind farm. With nothing else to do, I counted the number of generators not turning - about 80% were idle at this time. That's got to be expensive.
Those clouds coming in didn't help matters - it was still frigging hot, but the land was not heating up as expected, so the sea breeze was delayed.
Still reefed in anticipation. After the brutal winds of yesterday, we were being very cautious.
There was some wind, so we were making good time. Pilgrim is a fine sailor.
Another break before we took to the expanse of Baffin Bay. Because of the wide, wide water, we were being even MORE cautious and put in a second reef.
The Three Men in a Trimaran guys
The Sweet Pea and my friends, Kenny and Gene in a Mayfly 16. Poor Gene, I'd more or less filled his head with stories and he had come on the Texas 200 expecting . . . something different than what it is. As he said "I'd read everything, but I was disappointed n how disappointed I was."
More 'Ducks - double reefed sand hoping for a blow.
The Core Sound guys were expecting some wind, too.
And when we got out into Baffin Bay, proper, the wind just . . . died. We still moved, but very slowly. And we baked, just like little potatoes in an oven, except we had no butter or sour cream.
Kelly D, rowed the entire event. I thought I was tough doing it in a 'Duck. This man is pure steel.
Winds were so light, the 'Ducks started to catch up and pass other boats. It was embarrassing - for them.
Finally FINALLY the wind started to pick up. I'm glad I was sailing alone, I was ready to perform a ritual sacrifice to the wind gods.
Barges are a hazard. Especially when you are barely keeping steerage. Barge operators are cool - they hailed us on VHF 16 and asked what was going on. Someone explained and the guy just said "Give me as much room as you can."
More boats. Production boats are OK, I guess.
Dolphins - lots of them, actually. It's hard to get a good shot of them.
Tri guys again.
Peter and Ryan. Poor kid - he'd gotten a little sunburned.
Fleet shot, stretching back across Baffin Bay.
Kevin in his floating living room
Another Core Sound. Those really are good adventuring boats.
Rick and I had gotten ahead of the other 'Ducks and were racing along to Camp 2. We needed to make a decision there - stop for the day or continue on? The next day was a long one - 50 miles or more, and required some navigation. We saw Camp 2 a long way off and instead of following the Intercoastal Waterway, we just cut across the knee deep water for a few miles. With our 4" of draw, sometimes it's nice to sail a 'Duck.
There it was! Camp 2 was already filling up with big boats.
We'd only gone 37 miles and it wasn't quite 5pm yet. Plenty of daylight left, we just needed to pick a stopping place for the night.
After much discussion - and waiting for the rest of the flock, the 'Duckers decided to spend the night near the Padre Island Yacht Club, another 12-15 miles down the way. We took off in brisk winds and with happy hearts.
Jason is a big fan of the Lateen sail, and I have to admit, it does look very nice. Bill was trundling right along in his Loaner Boat.
Chuck L and Paul were plowing the seas with a single reef in, making good time.
Pehr was sailing a Piccup Pram and we had included him in our flock as an honorary 'Duck.
Sean was leading the pack in Scout
The sun was getting low when we saw the first channel marker. We needed to get to Marker 39, and some sadist had not only spaced these a long way apart, he'd numbered every one.
Bill, looking good
and Kellen looking great.
That's a long day of sailing. We sailed in to the Padre Island Yacht Club just at dark. Not all of us made it. Wade had capsized out at the entrance (calf deep water, no biggie) and couldn't fight his way into the channel. He and a couple other camped out there at the mouth of the cut. Pehr had continued on to a popular dockside restaurant, Snoopy's, and ended up spending a loud night tied up near the highway bridge. For the rest of us, the original plan had been to crash on the beach opposite the club, but the docks were empty, so we swarmed 'em. There was a Coast Guard party going on in the club, and the commander came out to see who we were and what was going on. We gave him our sob story, complete with big puppy eyes, and he let us stay the night. After the party, the club was locked up tight, and many of us took showers at the outside shower station. A little later, one of the club members on a live-aboard unlocked the door to use the facilities, and the door wasn't locked again, so we got to use flush toilets and the indoor shower - very nice.
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