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 | The Crossing
Tuesday September 27 – Friday September 30
We said goodbye to Pep P the parrot at the Crow’s Nest Marina at 0930. It was a perfect morning…winds less than 5 knots and a 2' swell. Knowing that we wouldn’t have cell phone service for the next 4 days, we all spent the first hour or so talking with everyone we knew. Say goodbye…hang up…still have a signal…call…say goodbye again…hang up…still have a signal…call…
Team Prime Time decided to use a 2 hour on/4 hour off watch schedule. It’s extremely important to get off the helm after two hours to eat, sleep, relax, etc. All day Tuesday, we stayed together talking and listening to music either in the Pilothouse or flybridge between watches. We were very casual about watch changes. We had a good night’s sleep at the Crow’s Nest Marina in Venice Monday night, so no one was overly tired. There was no clock watching…wishing the hours, minutes, and seconds to pass away. This would SOON change…
It’s amazingly fast how soon the initial excitement turns into either monotony or fear. Once offshore, the view rarely changes. During the day, you rarely see anything other than swells…all the way to the horizon…for 360° around Prime Time. Maybe some commercial traffic…maybe some trash. It’s different at night…
Boats and their crew develop a biorhythm offshore. The sounds and sensations become so predictable. You hear the engine sounds…you feel the boat motion through the water…you see the swells pass under the hull. It’s nurturing! If anything changes, you immediately become alert to the deviation. Intuitively you know differently, but it’s almost like there’s nothing else in the universe. Just one boat…three humans…the sea…the sky…the sun…the moon…stars…
I mentioned monotony. Maybe “routine” would be a better…or more fair descriptor. Day watch wasn’t too bad. The Simrad/Robertson autopilot performed flawlessly. We dialed in a course of 285° magnetic right off of the Venice inlet, set a waypoint for the mouth of Galveston Bay, and never touched the wheel. So for two hours at a time, you scanned all of the instrumentation and the horizon. Rarely did either change…
Off the Louisiana and Texas coasts, there must be a million zillion oil rigs/platforms. (Actually, there are over 4000 oil structures in the Gulf. I subsequently learned that as a result of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, over 200 of them fall into the destroyed, damaged, adrift, or unaccounted for categories!)). During the day, it really didn’t matter if they were lit or not. It was cool to see these huge “industrial complexes” rising out of the ocean. It broke the monotony. Many of these rigs had been damaged by Hurricane Rita. At night, you could see them miles and miles away…if they had lights…working lights. Many didn’t…and all too often I thought about it! There also was quite a bit of debris in the water. We saw huge weed lines, dimensional lumber of all sizes up to a huge 8’ x 8’ beam, plastic, Styrofoam products, etc. It was kind of disconcerting to see all of this during the daylight, while knowing it was still there unseen at night!
Prior to this trip, I didn’t have much practical experience with radar. My previous boat… Better Times…had radar, but I really didn’t have a clue as how to use this tool. Prime Time has an awesome Furuno radar system with a 72 nautical mile range. Mark showed me how to tune up the radar system…set appropriate gain levels for sea and rain conditions. I learned how to see the returns on the screen…acquire them…analyze the data…and to identify if and when potential problems (crossings, collisions, and other fun stuff) would occur. As my skill set and ability to use the radar grew, my anxiety levels waned. I was learning to trust again…both myself…my Team…and my instruments.
We finally reached our waypoint at the mouth of Galveston Bay at 1430 on Friday September 30. After 78 hours at sea, we were getting close. There were probably 20-30 tankers, bulk carriers, and other types of huge vessels anchored and waiting to enter Galveston Bay. After the days of monotony and nights of fear…this was EXCITING! Prime Time still needed to take us into Galveston Bay…up the Houston Ship Channel…under the bridge into Clear Lake…and finally to our slip at the Waterford Harbor Marina. We were close…so close!
Throughout the trip, I kept telling myself “it’s the journey…not the destination” that’s really important. Some parts of the journey really made a lasting impression on me. Team Prime Time had decided to make our evening meal a group event. Breakfast, lunch, and snacks were whenever. For dinner…we sat down together in the Pilothouse and socialized. We had meals of angel hair pasta with chicken, pizza, lasagna…we ate well. I sure didn’t say healthy…I said well!
We also saw something REALLY bizarre in Galveston Bay. A pod of three dolphins swam up on our port side. Believe it or don’t, but one of the dolphins had a yellow ball and was tossing it into the air…catching it…and tossing it up again. The ball didn’t float, so the dolphin would disappear underwater and then reappear again with the yellow ball. Very cool…!
Without a doubt, the best part of this journey was the extraordinary relationships that I developed with Mark Mitchell and Jason Henry. These are very special individuals. They helped me realize a dream…a special dream. I MIGHT have made it through the 2000+ miles we traveled, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have been so seamless. I know that I’ll stay in touch with Mark and Jason. These are the type of people you want as friends.
I moved Prime Time through the narrow and shallow channel that leads into Waterford Harbor Marina. I had spoken with both David and Sharon as we moved up the Houston Ship Channel, and I knew that both would be at the slip to catch our dock lines. Prime Time’s new slip is somewhat challenging to enter…not that I had ever done so! I told Mark that I wanted to back Prime Time in as a fitting conclusion to the trip. As I rounded the last row of docks before mine, I saw Sharon, David, and his wife Cindy waving to us. Yikes…more pressure! I slowly spun Prime Time around, lined her up as best I could, and greased her perfectly into the slip. Just like a Michael Jordan jump shot…”nuthin’ but net”! We tossed lines…got her secured…and for the first time in over 81+ hours…walked off the boat. We all hugged each other and felt both relief and pride.
Prime Time is safely home…it feels so good!
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I mentioned fear. Yep…I’m an old Viet Nam veteran with who has successfully dealt with all of the “baggage”. Over 30 years ago, I dealt with the darkness in a much different environment. I had to learn to trust…both myself…and my Team. We all needed each other to survive. Night watch on Prime Time challenged me. It was the same old “things that go bump in the night” scenario again…only different!
