Gaff Rigged Salt 19 Adventure in the Florida Everglades

10,000 Islands - A Cruise into Florida’s Everglades

10,000 Islands is an archipelago that extends from Cape Romano on Florida’s Gulf Coast south to Cape Sable. This area is made up of a mosaic of small mangrove islands that form part of the western boundary of the Everglades National Park.  It was among this patchwork wilderness that we wanted to concentrate during our three week cruise from Dunedin, Florida aboard our 19 foot gaff rigged sloop, Pelagos.

Although we were warned of torturous and shallow channels throughout the confusing maze of 10,000 islands, there are actually a number of natural deep channels or passes where one can find protective anchorages.

We sighted New Turkey Key, our planned anchorage for the night, about two hours before dark -plenty of time to do the routine maintenance on “Gulliver”, our 5 ½ horsepower British Seagull outboard engine.  While I handed the main and jib, my husband Bill started the engine and began inching our way in.  Even though the chart showed a channel with about 6 feet of water (ample for our 2 foot draft), I went forward and sounded with the boat hook as a precaution.  As we made our way between New Turkey Key and the unnamed aisle, we spotted the green outhouse and picnic table that marks New Turkey Key as a designated campsite.

We threw out the anchor, a 10 pound and about 100 feet of half-inch nylon rope.  It settled in about 6 feet of water.  We were in the lee of the island and well protected from the freshening north wind.

Being eager to go ashore and explore the island before dark, we wrestled the engine into our 8 foot fiberglass dinghy and rowed 

the hundred yards or so to shore.  We beached the dinghy on what had appeared from the boat to be a sandy spot near the east end of the key, but which turned out to be a mixture of broken shells and small rocks. We were again glad that we had towed the hard dinghy.  Our inflatable, which we had also had on board, would never have survived.  We had no longer set foot on the beach when seemingly from nowhere; we were besieged by hordes of hungry mosquitoes!  In our haste to get to shore we had forgotten the insect repellent!   While Bill rowed quickly back out to the boat to get the Deep Woods Off, by far the best we have found, I in company with the bloodthirsty pack, took a look around our little island.

New Turkey Key is about a quarter of a mile long and in the shape of one side of a large wishbone. It appeared to be ringed by a white sand beach but was mostly made up of hundreds of conch shells weathered and bleached by the sun and tides. Many skeletons of the prehistoric looking horseshoe crabs were scattered about. On the West End or rounded side of the island there extended an oyster bed for several hundred yards, while the interior was largely made up red and black mangroves.

Bill returned with the repellent just in the nick of time as I was about to be carried away by two mosquitoes the size of Great Blue Herons.   We wondered what they had feasted on before we arrived.  A few squirts with the off however, and the mosquitoes all but disappeared.   Bill carried the British Seagull up the beach to a dry spot above the waterline where we could work on it.  After checking points and plugs, he set about changing the oil in the lower unit.  Actually he just added some oil as when he started to drain it, almost a cup of seawater came out.  Our British seagull never ceases to amaze us!

Having finished our work, we took a leisurely walk around the key. It was almost dusk when we completed our circumnavigation.  We were rowing back out to Pelagos when we spotted two young men paddling their bright, shiny aluminum canoe towards the island.  We watched them unload their gear and begin setting up camp.  I told Bill to row over and invite them to dinner.  They readily accepted and 20 minutes later I met David Sobel and Alan Hollande, two naturalists /teachers from New Hampshire.  We had dinner in the cockpit and everyone hungrily devoured the vegetarian fare of meatless chow Mein noodles and fried rice.  Good conversation and coffee filled the evening as we got to know our canoeing friends.

We woke up early the next morning hoping to get an early start to Little Shark River. When Bill went out on deck and stepped on the rail however, poor Pelagos listed heavily to the port side. We were solidly aground in 6 inches of water and the tide was still going out!!  Apparently the wind had switched during the night and having had out only one anchor we had drifted into shallower water.  There wasn’t much we could do so we put on some coffee and got out the camera. The day dawned with me up to my knees in mud, taking pictures of our poor boat.  We were wishing that we had brought some scrubbys and paint so that we could have done a bottom job.  So this is what careening will be like!

About 8 o’clock David and Alan woke up and seeing our situation invited us to a leisurely breakfast of omelets and café cappuccino complete with the centerpiece on the wooden picnic table consisting of a conch shell with morning glories in it. By the time breakfast was over the tide had risen enough that Pelagos was almost afloat.  We bid farewell to our new friends and rowed out and got underway.  We had a minor crisis when Bill reached into his coat pocket and came out with a crab instead of the Chap Stick he expected, but we were pleased to have gotten off so early.

During our cruises we found out that we both function better and more efficiently under the watch system of two hours on and two hours off.  This relieves one person from having to cope with all the responsibility and it makes it so that the person off watch can go about his or her business without worrying about the helm.  It has also given me the confidence and experience that I need to be able to handle the boat in case of an emergency in which Bill might be unable to take command.  We have a rule that whatever comes up, i.e.  Bad weather, coming into dock etc., the on watch person has the responsibility of the helm.  Of course the one off watch is always on call for sail changes and other contingencies.

It was during Bill’s second watch that we decided to give up the idea of going further south.  We had been bucking headwinds all day and the seas were steadily increasing.  We had to tack at such acute angles that we were not making much headway.  Of course, the gaff rig is not noted for its windward ability!  Since the winds were up to 20 knots, we douse the main, turned down wind and ran under the jib alone. We were both rather depressed and disappointed about turning back.  I especially had wanted to explore Little Shark River and the miles of shell laden beach at Cape Sable.  We felt that we were doing the prudent thing however; we had already had several “weather days” and were running out of vacation time.

Our concern now was to get back to the relative safety of New Turkey Key, the closest anchorage, before the weather deteriorated further. We hadn’t counted on becoming disoriented. In our efforts to round Key McLaughlin we had gone several miles offshore and being able to see our objective had not been worried about counting individual keys as we passed. Now the islands had blended into the green mangrove background and it was impossible to tell one key from another. Not knowing exactly where we were, we did not want to go in very close to shore and risk grounding with the five or 6 foot seas that had now built up.  We kept heading north.  At one point we felt sure we had passed New Turkey Key without recognizing it and turned around to beat into the wind and seas for almost an hour.  We finally had enough pounding so decided to head for the north side of Pavilion where there was deep-water and where we would be protected from the then savage south wind.

We rounded what we thought was Pavilion only discovered to our utmost delight that it was Plover Key with New Turkey Key just beyond complete without house and canoeists.

Eight hours after leaving we were again anchored near the little island this time after making sure we were in deep water. Since Alan and David were still there it was decided that we would eat dinner on Pelagos together.  They got their things together and paddled out to the boat but by the time they arrived we had to tell them to forget it.  Although the winds were still out of the south, the sky to the north was dark and foreboding.  We could see the front moving rapidly towards us.  As the canoeists hurriedly paddled towards the relative safety of their camp, Bill rowed out a second anchor –a high tensile Danforth. We had a quick bite to eat and having secured Pelagos as well as was possible went below to ride out the storm.  We were in for a wild night!

Lightning surrounded us like a picket fence and rain begin to come down in torrents.  All at once the front hit us. A gust of at least 50 knots caught us broadside and slammed our 3500 pounds over on the rail like a feather.  Sleep was almost impossible. The motion was so great we had to brace ourselves crosswise in the cabin to prevent are being thrown about.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if it’d been light, but now except for the flashes of lightning, it was an inkwell outside and quite terrifying.  Dozing, we awoke at every sound.  Imagining the worst, we conjured up pictures of being hit by Lightning, dragging the anchor and ending up in the oyster beds and then being knocked over again and not coming back up. We thought the night would never end.

Much to our relief, dawn finally crept across the eastern sky. Although the rain had stopped and the sun was out, the wind was still steady around 20 to 25 knots and the Gulf was an army of whitecaps, marching southward with an icy north wind Alan and David were still there it was decided that we would eat dinner on Pelagos together.  They got their things together and paddled out to the boat but by the time they arrived we had to tell them to forget it.  Although the winds were still out of the south, the sky to the north was dark and foreboding.  We could see the front moving rapidly towards us.  As the canoeists hurriedly paddled towards the relative safety of their camp, Bill rowed out a second anchor –a high tensile Danforth. We had a quick bite to eat and having secured Pelagos as well as was possible went below to ride out the storm.  We were in for a wild night!

Lightning surrounded us like a picket fence and rain begin to come down in torrents.  All at once the front hit us. A gust of at least 50 knots caught us broadside and slammed our 3500 pounds over on the rail like a feather.  Sleep was almost impossible. The motion was so great we had to brace ourselves crosswise in the cabin to prevent are being thrown about.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if it’d been light, but now except for the flashes of lightning, it was an inkwell outside and quite terrifying.  Dozing, we awoke at every sound.  Imagining the worst, we conjured up pictures of being hit by Lightning, dragging the anchor and ending up in the oyster beds and then being knocked over again and not coming back up. We thought the night would never end.

Much to our relief, dawn finally crept across the eastern sky. Although the rain had stopped and the sun was out, the wind was still steady around 20 to 25 knots and the Gulf was an army of whitecaps, marching southward with an icy north wind campfire telling stories and ghost tales and enjoying the crisp clear starlit night.

Our relaxed mood was broken when upon getting ready to return to the boat we discovered the dinghy missing. Earlier we had carried it up on the beach but had not secured it- a good lesson! The tide had risen much faster than we expected and now, due to our carelessness, the dinghy had drifted out of sight.

Out came the flashlights. We searched the area in the dark and found the dingy a few minutes later, several hundred yards down the beach, where the current had carried it. We had been lucky. A good dinghy is hard to replace. That had been enough excitement for the evening, so we said good night and rowed back out to Pelagos to literally fall into our bunks.

We slept soundly and awoke early, rested and refreshed, eager to continue our journey.  Alan and David had also planned to leave as they were expected back in Chokoloskee that afternoon.  But while the wind had subsided somewhat, the storm had left a 3 or 4 foot chop that was more than their canoe could handle. There was only one solution- Pelagos with our new friends on board, would tow the canoe the 10 miles across the water to Rabbit Key where it would be then be an easy paddle into Chokoloskee.  After stuffing their camping gear into the cabin, we made a rope bridle for the canoe which we were to tow behind the dinghy. After a rather difficult time weighing anchor, we were off, only to run aground while still hoisting sail!Since the canoe had not been towing well- in fact, despite the bridle it was diving all over the place-we decided to try to carry it on deck. Under my supervision, Alan and David lifted the aluminum canoe aboard and after padding it with cushions to protect our teak rails, secured it across the bow.  The extra windage must have helped get us off the bar and soon as we were sailing out into the Gulf under the main, all flags flying, with the canoe across our nose.  We must have looked pretty funny indeed.

Turning north we found it much rougher than it had appeared. We started the engine and motor sailing, began pounding into the head seas. Our passengers promptly got seasick and had to spend much of the trip lying down. It was slow going against wind and seas, having to tack many times to take advantage of the wind. It was nearly 3pm when we rounded Rabbit Key and entered calmer water. David and Alan, now somewhat recovered, unloaded their canoe and repacked their gear. We soon had two happy people paddling towards Chokoloskee, grateful for the ride but very glad to be in their canoe again.

Bill and I push towards Indian Key alone. We had nearly an hour of daylight left when we spotted the flashing 4 second Light that marks the entrance to Indian Key pass and Everglades’ City.  Instead of anchoring next to Indian Key as planned, we decided to go further up the channel in an attempt to get more protection from the still very icy north wind.We were about to get darked- on as we rounded marker #7 so we threw the hook out and settled into a little cove just off the channel. This would prove to be a mistake

About 5 o’clock the next morning, the commercial fishing boats started their daily expeditions from Everglades City; going right at hull speed, their wakes rocked the boat so badly we had to get up in self-defense. This was excruciatingly painful as though we were well protected from the wind; the temperature was in the 30s. We had work to do however and bravely start in, getting the boat back into shape.  It had gotten very dirty from all of David and Allen’s camping gear and we had somehow managed to track mud on the decks. Horrors!!  As we worked, we watched a Little Blue Heron stalking fish along the shore, and saw several raccoons having their breakfast of oysters at the water’s edge.

With the boat shipshape again, we gratefully left the unprotected cove and headed inland towards Everglades City. The route is about 6 miles long and well-marked. The controlling depth of the channel was 7 ½ feet in 1975 but there was evidence of some shoaling.

The wind was against us and with the resulting 3 knot current we crept along at a snail’s pace.  The twisted mangrove jungle rose up like a giant wall on the north side of the sometimes narrow channel. It was filled with birds. We eagerly rounded each new bend and were rewarded by seeing some species for the first time.We were to the mouth of the Chokoloskee Bay, within sight of Everglades City, when the current, which had been steadily increasing, stopped us all together.  We anchored off to the side of the channel and took advantage of the unexpected time eating breakfast and catching up the log. When after an hour or so the tide slacked enough so that we could make some time against the current, we continued on into Everglades’ City.

Everglades City was once the county seat and a center of activity with a saw mill, railroad and even a streetcar, but is now a sleepy little town which seems suspended in time. The focal point is still the Rod and Gun Club. The most convenient place to fuel up (originally the site of an Indian trading post) the Rod and Gun Club was started in 1925 and soon became a world-renowned rendezvous for sportsmen. Amongst the most famous guest was Gen. Dwight D Eisenhower.

After motoring up the river, sightseeing, along the waterfront as far as the project depth would allow us to go, we returned to the Rod and Gun Club and tied up along their seawall to fuel up. No one was around so we rang a buzzer and about 10 minutes later a little man from the Lodge rode up on his bicycle and helped fill our Jerry cans with gasoline.  Making sure it was all right to leave Pelagos where she was; we set off to explore Everglades City on foot.

After making a few phone calls and loading up on groceries we decided to try out a little sandwich shop for a late lunch. Returning to the boat we found we had dallied too long as the tide had turned and the current was too strong to navigate. We stood around discussing our plight, watching a group of brown pelicans playing in the strong current next to the boat. They would fly several hundred yards upstream, land in the water and then float swiftly past Pelagos, only to repeat the comic scene time after time. 

We had given up the prospect of going anywhere until the tide changed again and were thoroughly engrossed in the pelican show when a large, twin screw cabin cruiser with a home port of Monterey, California pulled up alongside the quay in front of us.  Bill helped them with their dock lines and showed them the buzzer to ring for fuel service. During the ensuing conversation the subject of anchorages came up. Bill showed them on their chart a likely spot that appeared to have plenty of water. He explained that we had planned to anchor there for the night but our British seagull would not buck the current and we were stuck where we were.  “No problem”, said the man, “after we fuel up we can tow you to the spot.  After all, it’s a fair trade for the knowledge.”It took us no time at all to pass a line from the cabin cruiser and attach it to our bow eye with the mooring pendant. Soon, we were speeding out of the city behind ”Shirley’s Two”. Several of the pelicans who had taken over dingy while still on at the dock, hung on for a fast ride. Their cruiser was barely idling but we were being towed just over hull speed and for a few anxious minutes Bill and I worried about our bow eye holding.  The pelicans finally had enough and flew off. Gradually, we began to relax and enjoy our speedy departure.

We anchored in a quiet niche free from the wakes of the fishing boats overlooking a nest of Osprey.  Jack and Shirley Converse of “Shirley’s Two” rowed over in their dinghy and joined us in the cockpit for a cup of cappuccino.  A little later we had drinks, more conversation and a tour of their boat. We crawled into our bunks early, worn out by the excitement of the day.

After a really good night sleep we were awakened about 5 o’clock by the same strange, clicking sounds in the early morning stillness that we had been hearing for several days. It sounded like rain to me and bacon frying to Bill.  We deduced it to be small shrimp or something similar, their noises magnified by the water against the hull.  We had a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, grits, juice and coffee.  Bill had lit catalytic heater and warmed up the cabin so it was very pleasant.  We got underway about 0700; a pretty good start heading north towards Naples. We had the current with us, the wind on our beam and we were making good time. I took the first two hour watch while Bill cleaned up the breakfast dishes. He took over about 9 o’clock and I retired to the cabin to update the log and write a few postcards.

I spent my second watch meandering down the Big Arco River, watching White Ibis and Snowy Egrets along the tidal flats while Bill prepared a nice lunch. It had warmed up considerably and while the wind was brisk we were well protected now that we were in the waterway.  The current was again against us, causing a loss of time, which we had hoped to make up once we had rounded the hairpin turn just past Marco Island. Off watch, I spent a lazy afternoon oiling the teak a bit before settling down to a short nap.

We arrived in Naples and found a peaceful nook in which to anchor, out of the traffic of the waterway. We decided to have a good dinner.  It turned out to be a real treat of macaroni and cheese with onions and tomatoes. How wonderful it is that such simple fare can be a feast in the wilderness!  We had another good night sleep.

Friday the 13^th loomed gray and overcast. We awoke before daylight and decided that we should try to make South Seas Plantation at the north end of Captiva Island as we had a good wind from the south. Not being able to raise the marine weather station we tuned into a local FM radio station whose forecast consisted of a nonchalant “continued warm with a chance of showers”.  Bill took the first watch. We headed northward offshore for several hours. The winds were increasing and the overcast had turned to drizzle. We put on our foul weather gear and were standing watches in the rain. It wasn’t too bad though, because we were making good time and had the wind and waves on our stern.  We were within sight of the north end of Fort Myers Beach when it hit us! I had gone below after my watch and was fixing some soup and sandwiches when I heard the thunderous roar of driving wind and rain.  Bill yelled for me to take the helm so he could secure the working jib which was still up, having already handed the main before I went off watch. That first blast had hit the small sail with such force that its power had driven the bow down and the whole boat shuttered!  Coming on deck, I could see that just since I had gone below, the waves had built up considerably and their crests were breaking, with white water everywhere.

We secured the jib and were running down wind under bare poles. We then remembered the dinghy, which we had been towing.  It was half full of water and was about to broach too. We had to get the water out or else cut it loose.  Bill tried to bring it alongside to bail but couldn’t hold it because of the waves. He tried lifting the bow on board which drained most of the water from it. After that, it behaved itself quite well except that it kept trying to climb over the engine into the cockpit until we lengthened the painter.  We were very close to the shore as the wind had blown us in that direction so we started the engine and turned off shore toward safety. The waves had built up to almost 10 feet (that was the official Coast Guard report) and being broadside we rolled gunnel to gunnel.  The first hour or so was the worst. We weren’t sure whether Pelagos could handle the seas and were quite prepared for the worst. We had lifejackets and lifelines on and were carrying our knives around our necks to enable us to cut free our umbilical cord if the boat went over and stay down. 

A large Coast Guard cutter came tearing out from the Coast Guard station at Pine Island and stood off while they look us over.  Apparently someone from shore had seen us disappearing in the troughs and called them.  By this time however, we had gotten somewhat used to the motion and could see that the boat would handle the seas. Evidently the cutter thought so too as soon they slowly return from where they had come. After four or five hours we finally managed to make it into Matanzas Pass and into the lee of the island.

This past week we had learned a lot about seamanship, the boat and ourselves.  Only half of our vacation was over and there would still be many more adventures to look forward to but tomorrow would be soon enough!  With thoughts of a hot shower and a good meal we were happy to be safe and secure in the bay at Fort Myers Beach.