Author: svsalema

Like many families during this time of COVID, we were mindful this Thanksgiving holiday to keep extended family safe and decided to forego a group dinner. After a quiet holiday with just the four of us, we took advantage of the time off to do an overnight trip with Salema to Emerson Point, which is at the mouth of the Manatee River (Bradenton, FL). We had first discovered Emerson Point a few years ago when we had wanted to find a nature preserve close to home to take walks. The last time we were there, we noticed a few sailboats were anchored nearby, and a small dock off the southern side of the preserve would be a perfect spot to tie up a dinghy to go ashore. After consulting our Windy app, we decided the prevailing winds that weekend would favor an Emerson Point anchorage, so we started gathering our supplies for a weekend on the boat.

A one-night stay on the sailboat sounds pretty straightforward, involving perhaps a modest overnight bag and a few planned meals tucked into the boat’s cooler. However, there is no going small when it involves lugging down to the boat an inflatable raft (with pump, seat, floorboards, and oars), several meals for a family of four (plus snacks, so many snacks), spare clothes, bedding, stuffed animals, and all the dog’s supplies (bed, bowls, food, dog cookies, leash, doggie life jacket). As I ambled down the dock with the marina-issued dock cart loaded with a teetering mountain of bedding, the friendly sailor across from our slip asked if we were “going out for awhile.” Transoceanic crossing, overnight trip with a four hour transit. Yeah, same difference.

The wind was a little light when we shoved off the dock around 11:00 a.m. to head down to Emerson Point. We decided to motor and took the “inside passage” route, passing Egmont Key to our right. The smooth water and uneventful passage was fine by Gertie, our German Shorthair Pointer mix, who is not what one would call a ‘sea dog’. She tolerates sailing, as long as the dog biscuits keep coming and we don’t sail in big swell. The boys love having her aboard and she keeps them occupied during the transit as they focus on making sure she has water and is comfortably in the shade in the cockpit.

We were anchored by 16:30, which was perfect timing to get settled in before sunset and preparing dinner. While it was still light out, the whole family hopped into the dinghy so we could stretch our legs at Emerson Point and give Gertie a bathroom break.

An often-discussed topic this weekend was that we really need to get a better solution in place for a dinghy motor. We bought our Avon inflatable off a Craigslist about ten years ago from a guy in Savannah, GA. He threw in the ancient 5 hp 2-stroke motor since I think they just wanted to clean out their garage. The motor isn’t a bad size for puttering around and is easy to carry compared to a larger 8 hp that is more in the 75 pound range. But, the 5 hp motor tends to work about 35% of the time, so for this trip we just brought the oars. Rowing the dingy is a bit of an awkward, cumbersome process, especially when the boat is loaded up with the whole family. The slightest amount of wind or current also makes rowing a lot more difficult.

After dinner, the boys wanted to tuck into their respective bunks and read a bit. Dave and I rowed, rowed, rowed our boat one more time to shore around 22:00 to let Gertie use the facilities before bed. It was a beautiful, quiet row to the dock, and an almost-full moon made it possible to navigate without using our flashlights. The overnight itself on the boat was a little uncomfortable. While the drop in breeze meant a calm anchorage and no worries about the anchor possibly dragging, the lack of breeze meant everyone didn’t sleep very well and the mosquitoes came to say hello. At one point at o’dark thirty, I was wrapped in only a sheet with a dishcloth around my head to keep the buzzing mosquitoes away from a meal source. However, by dawn, we had all gotten a descent amount of sleep and were looking forward to starting the day and getting some sailing in for the trip back home.

Spending the weekend on the boat was a welcome change of pace, despite the amount of prep it took for a single night on the boat and somewhat uncomfortable night fighting off a squadron of mosquitoes. We we definitely keep this anchorage in mind for the future, especially since it is easy to get to from our marina, and we can bring Gertie with us as well.

Sailing Through John’s Pass

This past weekend we decided to forego our usual route to the Gulf of Mexico (via Passe-a-Grille) and opted to head north on the Intercoastal Waterway (ICW). The plan was to exit into the Gulf from John’s Pass, then sail south and hang a left through Passe-a-Grille and back to the slip before sunset. The northerly route up the ICW was a chance to see some new sights- think running commentary by the whole family ala HGTV on architectural design and house color choices , as well as a chance to go under three draw bridges. With all due respect to anyone who has been an impatient motorist waiting for a bridge, there is some allure to being the reason a bridge is opening. I think it is a little bit Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, whispering under your breath “open sesame!” as the bridge slowly pulls up on its massive gears and opens before our little sailboat.

Magical incantations aside, many of the bridges have a set opening schedule every 15 min – 30 min, depending on the bridge. We used the aptly named website drawbridgeahead.com to check the schedules so we could time our passages. First up was Corey Causeway, a bright blue bridge just north of our marina. Dave gave a courtesy hail on VHF Channel 9 to confirm we were requesting an opening at the next scheduled time. We held our position about 10 minutes watching all the little power boats tuck under the closed bridge without clearance concerns, then waited for the bridge opening routine to commence— the lowering of gates to stop traffic, the horn that signals the bridge is opening, and watching as the bridge splits in two and its sections slowly move upwards. We motor through the opened bridge, admiring the gears and hydraulics that make up the underbelly of the structure, and give a wave to the draw bridge operator perched up in his control room on one of the bridge’s pillars.

Next was the Treasure Island Causeway, which we timed just perfectly and only had to hold position for less than 5 minutes before the bridge opened. The last bridge was John’s Pass. This draw bridge doesn’t have a set opening schedule since strong currents in the passageway make it difficult to hold a position waiting for a fixed opening time. We hailed the bridge about a quarter of a mile away and tucked on through to the Gulf of Mexico.

It was a beautiful day out on the Gulf with winds 10-12 knots out the north. It was also a nice breeze to test out our recently-installed autopilot system. Heading south towards Passe-a-Grille, we checked the depths on the charts, then programmed the autopilot on a southerly course of sail. The autopilot comes with a remote (seen below on a strap around Dave’s neck). We both went up to the bow to sit and enjoy the sail, adjusting the boat slightly via the remote control when we encountered an upcoming crab pot in our path. We joked it was like sailing on a cruise with a paid captain!

We come down the dock at our marina near St. Petersburg, FL and turn the heads of the tenants nearby without even trying. My husband and I juggle a cooler, the Survival Bag of Snacks, and 5 stuffed animals, while our elementary-aged sons carry on two different conversations simultaneously. Our youngest son darts out ahead of us, the first to arrive in front of our sailboat, Salema, a Pearson 31-2. In a voice that rivals an intercom system, he announces across the quietude of the marina: “DADDY! The boat has BIRD POOP ON IT AGAIN!!!” I wonder: can sailors in Cancun hear us?

My husband and I were both avid sailors pre-kids and we vowed that we’d keep sailing after we had a family. When we announced the news we were expecting our first child, sailing friends joked that we were growing our own crew. But what does it look like to cultivate sailors from scratch? While we awaited the birth of our first child, I suspect we had a vision of our future selves that tipped towards the idyllic- sailing along on a beautiful day, the children happily practicing their knots in the cockpit, or perhaps shining up the brass fixtures while they sang child-friendly versions of sea shanties? While we quickly realized that sailing with a kid wasn’t as easy as we envisioned, we did discover that sailing with babies wasn’t half bad. Although they come with so.much.gear, they don’t move around much, and they look adorable in onesies with little sailboat prints. Plus, the gentle swaying of the boat lulls even the most reluctant sleeper into an afternoon nap.

The toddler stage was a bit more interesting. The docile babe evolved into the headstrong toddler with an obsession for scaling the steep companionway steps during the most inopportune times. Whereas a toddler leashed to a parent in the mall can draw derisive stares, tethering your kid to the binnacle looks right salty and nautical.

Toddlers are challenging sailing companions, however, they are also all sorts of adorable. Stuffed into their little life jackets, they can be kept reasonably happy on the boat with goldfish crackers, sippy cups of milk, and plenty of helm time.

The days of sippy cups and naps have evolved to big kids who can drain a sports drink in 10 seconds and hang out by themselves on the bow. As I write this entry, we now have an 11 year old and an 8 year old. This blog is a chance to be a bit more purposeful in documenting our time sailing as a family and hopefully a chance to show others it is possible to sail with kids and live to tell about it. I’m proud we’ve sailed with our children as much as we have, despite the challenges. We aren’t that perfect family practicing our bowlines and singing sea shanties, but we are growing our own crew, one sailing adventure at a time.