The Following Wind
Changing latitudes
Journal Entry: 3/6/18
There was this year back in the 80’s...early eighties, I charted the sail boat named Molly B. Her home Port was Houston, Texas but she was docked and ready for charter in the bay around St. Petersburg, Florida. The first thing that popped into my mind when I saw her name was a tune by Molly Bee, I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. The Molly B, however, sang a much different tune. She sang a song of passion and strength, yet, gentle at times. Especially at night with just you, The Sea, and the Molly B.
With Molly B came this Sea faring Captain. His name was Jacques. A full white bearded Dutchman. He called Amsterdam his base, but he liked to change latitudes quiet often and called the open seas his home.
He looked at me and asked, “Which direction do you want to go?”
“South seems reasonable.”
“Then pull up her anchor. She can’t change latitudes if she ain’t moving.”
It was a great adventure...sailing with Jacques... on the Molly B.
I recaptured my soul on the Molly B. I saw the Milky Way brighter than I had ever imagined. The intensity and focus I felt in a storm, hearing desperate mayday calls on the radio. The skill of Jacques as he plotted our dead reckoning course, just after we lost our navigational system off the coast of Marco Island. Four hour watches of aloneness, just the night sounds, 75 miles from land.
Jacques had calculated our waypoints for about four hours stretches. This would allow us a course change at the beginning of each shift. On the second morning out, I had the early morning shift, and if Jacque’s reasoning and calculations were correct, we should be close to a spot in the sea called Smiths Sholes. 24° 43.1'-81° 55.3' W. Just a small marker in the sea with a bell on it. It separates the sea from waters of safe sailing to the warning of: “beyond the dinging of my bell is a military bombing range and the shallow reefs.”
That foggy damp morning... and the faint sound in the distance. Traveling low in the water...Ding-ding, ding-ding. Jacques was right on point.
There was this pirate we encountered while anchored at Marquis Island. It was a brief layover for a little sleep before turning East toward Key West. I heard Jacques calling, “Hey, Doc. Stay below, and what ever happens, he ain’t to board Molly B.” And so it was.
How about the overnight in Key West after too much rum. Jacques chasing chickens down Duval Street and a mad chicken owner chasing Jacques. The freedom I felt passing Cuba in the night. Seeing the lights on the horizon and only hearing the night sounds of the sea and Molly B as we came about to 280 degrees and entered the warm Gulf Stream. I remember Jacques’ words as I took the helm. ”Keep her at 280 degrees, in he fair wind, until you see the sunrise on your starboard. Our next waypoint, 25.7617° N, 80.1918° W.”
Footnote: Well it is time to change latitudes for a while. I’m headed back to the East Coast for a few months and I need to spend a little more time with some who need more time.
Fare well. Keep the wind at your back and remember, “You have to pull anchor before you can change latitudes.” So says the Molly B.
Check back often...see you soon.
Boats drinks to all,
Doc
