Sail - Chap 3 - Launch and Catfish Key

Good morning.  

Today is "Sail" day. We are up early - around 6 am. The sailboat is already attached to the Jeep, but there is a lot of work to prepare, aka "step the mast" (I'm already learning new terms) before the boat goes in the water. On my fishing boat, I simply turn two keys to make my engines start. Holy moley, there are lots of cables and clips to connect on a sailboat:

Nick has obviously done this before. He knows what to do, I just take directions.  

Don is also helping.

Right before we get on the sailboat, the sun is starting to rise. Hey, we at least remember to tie a bow line to the boat so it doesn't drift off while we were still on the dock. 

I have actually made that mistake before. 

We know EXACTLY what we're doing!?

Time to launch. Nick's family on the dock takes obligatory pictures.  

Nick's son smiles and states, "You guys are gonna die."

And we are off!  See you in a week - or so.  

Mistake #1. 

Funny thing is, we are only about 50 ft from the dock in this picture. I look down. We are in less than two feet of water. Nick's boat drafts 1.5 ft, so we are in immediate danger of going aground 45 seconds into our "sail". There is no channel here. I yell, "Go left". We forgot to check the tides. It is, apparently, low-tide. After a few minutes, it gets a little deeper - but not much. 2-3 ft now a 1000 yards from the boat ramp. Man, it is shallow around here.  

Mistake #2.  

Ice! We forgot to get ice! No re-supplies for 3-4 days, and no cold beer? Um, that sucks.

I'm certain we won't make any further mistakes!  What could go wrong from here?

We're about two hours into our journey. We're sailing! We're smiling because I told Nick that if my dining-room calculations were correct, we should be seeing a Coast Guard navigational buoy about 2 hours in. 2 hours in -  we sail right past! Okay, cool, my skills don't completely suck. As navigator, I'm feeling pretty confident - at this moment. In the distance, if you look closely in the picture above, you can see that red buoy over my left shoulder on the horizon.

Yeah, sailing doesn't suck.  

Although I have noticed that even after two-hours I can still kinda see the dock over my right shoulder.  Hmm.  

I miss my 500 HP engines.

This is my hand-held Garmin GPS Map 64. I sent Nick a mount for it. So, it is mounted above our float plan - which is laminated to protect it from the weather. Besides the compass, and my navigation chart, this little GPS device is our primary form of navigation for our journey. I will write more on this device later. In fact, I fully intend to send a letter, or at least a link to this Post, to the Garmin corporation. (More on that later)

Our destination for our 1st day sail is a small island called "Sandy Key" aka "Catfish Key". If my calculations are correct, it should be about a 6-hour sail from Bahia Honda. Easy, peezy for our 1st day. I figure if we miss the island, we will eventually hit the coast of Florida.  Florida is BIG!  The red line below is our course.  The scary part of this first leg is that we can't stay near land - all open water:

We have sailed about 4 hours. To our right, and slightly behind us, a storm is brewing and growing.  Admittedly, it is growing slowly but it is definitely getting more formidable and ugly-looking. There is no doubt that it continues to look more ominous. We have a following sea because the wind from this storm is pushing us along at a nice pace. Winds aren't too bad, maybe 15 mph. Actually, perfect for sailing. We have both the main sail and something called a "Genoa" sail up.  (The big "poofy" sail). Time goes by. Winds increase. The sailboat is really moving now. We are about 3/4 of the way to Sandy Key (I think).  I take a picture of the looming storm behind us:

Yes, it really did look EXACTLY like that - I have not modified this picture.  

I didn't notice the contrast of the sky and sea at the time.

The storm is almost upon us. Much to my dismay, my days of wondering what a severe thunderstorm would be like on a sailboat are abruptly coming to an end. That time has arrived. Although we are running from it, there is no doubt now that it will catch us.

Obviously, I can't exit the sailboat and take a picture of ourselves, but if I could, it would have looked something similar to this:

If that looks somewhat terrifying to you, yeah - I get it.  Me too.

Nick and I put on our PFDs and I pull out the ePIRB and clip it to my body. I inform him that I am going inside the cabin to let the Coast Guard know our exact location. It isn't raining yet. I call the Coast Guard on the VHF and give them our exact lat/long position using the Garmin GPS, informing them that we are a sailing vessel; we are in a "pan pan" situation; and that we are about to be overtaken by a severe thunderstorm. Just a precautionary call for safety.

While I am on the VHF with the Coast Guard, I hear Nick yell very loudly - "Oh Shit". At exactly that moment, my entire body flies from the starboard side of the cabin over to the port side and I hit my head. The VHF mic is still in my hand. I'm not sure if I tell the Coast Guard we have capsized or not, but I know that we have. We are broadside to the wind and waves. Amazingly, the little boat rights itself back to center. The boat may be old, but apparently, it is pretty sea-worthy. Immediately, I hear Nick yell again, "Marc, I need you out here - NOW!".

The severe winds directly in front of the storm caught us off-guard while I was on the VHF radio.

I throw the mic down, exit the cabin and grab the tiller. We are broadside to the storm - waves crashing over the boat - not good.  Nick, bless his heart, is doing his best to hang on to the mast in 30 mph gusts while simultaneously trying to bring the Genoa and the Main sail down. How he has managed to hang on up there, I have no idea, but somehow, in severe wind gusts, he manages to do this without falling overboard while I keep the sailboat turned into the storm with the tiller.  His decision to bring down aka "reef" the sails in this crisis has categorically saved the boat from being capsized - for now.  I admit, I am impressed with his quick-thinking, courage and knowledge. As we learned a few days later while watching the weather channel talking about the severe storms in the keys, the major winds in these storms precedes the actual storm - they push out quickly at the water surface and, according to the weatherman, they almost always catch sailboats off-guard. Okay, I can now attest to that accurate synopsis first-hand.

The waves are 6-7 ft and we are literally being pummeled by wind and rain. Thunder reverberates around us. Nick now has just a sliver of the main sail up. Genoa sail is completely down. Good move, Captain. Trust me when I tell you that every ounce of my body is saying "Run, Forrest, run way from the storm", but keeping the bow in the wind (directly into the storm), we both know, is the right decision. So, we reluctantly proceed into the heart of this severe thunderstorm with our tiny, sea-worthy sailboat. No other choice, time to face weather hell.

10 minutes go by. I couldn't tell you if they went by quickly or slowly. This particular event is on the surreal side of my life. We are in the middle of nowhere and being pummeled with rain, lightning and wind. Can't see shit. We literally can't see 10 feet in front of the bow because of the rain. We're soaked. We aren't talking to each other, just sailing and concentrating. My body may be soaked, but my mouth is cotton-dry. Nick has taken back over the tiller. I hold on to the ePIRB and the ditch bag. I look up at the tall, metal mast as I feel lightning strike nearby. I wonder what would happen......

After 7-8 more minutes (an estimate), the rain starts to subside, the thunder lessens, the wind and waves die down.  

Nick and I silently look at each other and although we don't say it (yet), I know what we are both thinking, "We are going to survive this storm". We sail a few more minutes, the wind and rain subside even more, the waves return to normal. I tell Nick, "I'm gonna turn us back on course". He agrees. So with just a little sail, I turn the boat about and we continue with our correct heading Northeast towards Sandy Key. An island we haven't yet seen, but hope is there.

We are no longer "sailing storm virgins", states Nick, with a smile.

I had no idea that Nick took this selfie picture, but it is a great one:

That was rather intense, my friend.  

We're idiots.

The storm continues away from us. Now it is someone else's problem. In fact, we hear on the VHF that the storm has capsized a sailboat near 7-mile bridge - which is where we were just a few hours ago. We listen to the Coast Guard talking to them on the radio. They are all in the water and scared. Fortunately, it doesn't sound like they are too far from land (unlike us). I pray that they are all okay.  Scary storm. I no longer have to wonder, as I have the last few days, what it would be like to ride one out on a small sailboat. I'll mark that one off my checklist. Honestly, I don't ever want to do it again. I may be smiling in this picture that Nick took of me, but I can assure you, that storm scared the crap out of me.

A muted sun comes out. We take off our PFDs. Our mood, like the sky, has lightened. I look over at the Garmin. Still working perfectly! Thank you Garmin corporation for your engineering and quality! That handheld took a severe beating in that storm. The darn thing kept working perfectly through all that drenching. What a great device - especially in foul weather! You Garmin people ever need a first-hand testimonial from someone who is extremely grateful?  Feel free to give me a call. Your product rocks!:

All three of you still reading?  I'm not boring you?  Okay, great.... I'll keep writing then.

An hour later, we see the tiny island.  Right where it should be! Awesome. First sight of land in 7 hours. No other boats around. We are approaching our first island in the frickin Everglades!

Land ahoy!

Based upon the look on his face, perhaps Nick was a little doubtful that there really was an island out here in the middle of nowhere.

I was a little doubtful myself.

We are in the red-circle.  

Don't you wish you were here with us??

A little closer now.

Time to change into some dry clothes and drink a beer!  

Beer is still cold, too. Some ice left.

I get back on the radio and cancel the "pan pan" with the Coast Guard.  

I inform them that we are safe and I thank them profusely for what they do.

I don't say anything about the beer.  :-)

We see posted signs in front of the island, so we sail up to them. "Bird Sanctuary - Do Not Enter".  Well, damn. I didn't see that as part of my research. I was looking forward to walking on land. We anchor the boat about a quarter-mile from the island, respectfully just outside the signs, in 4 ft waters.

Since I am not the Captain on this trip, part of my duties are "Cook". Nick informs me that he is going to walk over to the island, not necessarily go on it (respect the environment), but take some pictures off the beach. Okay, that sounds cool - I'll go. We jump in. We both immediately sink to our hips in "muck" that is under the water.  Ugh. That is just plain nasty. 

Nick says, "I'm gonna swim over."

My reply, "I'm gonna drink some wine, fish a little, and get started on some dinner".

I think we are both okay with our respective decisions since neither of us wanted to leave the sailboat unattended - and we are hungry. Nick swims off while I get steaks started on the handy-dandy propane grill Gene & Ryan bought for my offshore boat a few years ago (Thanks Gene & Ryan).

In this picture below, we are anchored. I am still cooking and fishing. Sandy Key is actually two islands - a big one and a small one.  This picture is the small one. Both, apparently, are bird sanctuaries. Beautiful place, clear water and at the moment - no mosquitoes. Seas are calm.

Life is good.

I'm keeping an eye on him. From a far distance near the island, I hear Nick yell, "Hey, there is a channel here!" And so there is. Just a hundred yards from the island, there is a clear, fast moving channel. The tide continues to go out, so the channel has become more apparent. Nick enjoys his swim across the little channel and eventually makes his way back to the boat.

Good timing, my friend. I have dinner ready:

NY Strip steaks, fresh cherries, toasted croissants - and red wine.

Not too bad, if I do say so myself!  

NY steaks are delicious.

We finish our dinner; the sun is setting. I'm fishing. I catch a ladyfish. Nick is hanging out. We are in the middle of the Everglades, safely anchored with full stomachs! Nick turns and I snap a quick picture of him. Admittedly, we are feeling pretty good about ourselves and our current situation.

We obviously KNOW what we are doing; cause we made it here.

Actual Conversation:

I happen to look past Nick and say, "Hey, look at all those fish feeding in the channel near the island!"

Nick looks over.  

Sure enough, we see some huge fins sticking out of the water chasing smaller fish who are thrashing about.

Are those dolphin fins?

"Um, No. Those are big sharks!"

"Didn't you just swim through that same channel 45 minutes ago, Nick?"

"Um, yeah."

"You should drink another beer dude and enjoy having appendages."

And so he does.

This is the picture off the back of the sailboat while we are anchored next to the island. It is absolutely breathtaking. Once again, Nick and I remind ourselves, via a toast, that we are in the middle of the Everglades. God (in my opinion) has allowed us to arrive safely. Yes, we may be idiots, but we are adventurous idiots, and right now, we both feel blessed down to our core to be able to experience this adventure together as life-long, best friends. Instinctively, we know that this moment, next to this tiny island, on this little boat, is a rare opportunity. A unique experience somewhat unparalleled in anyone's lifetime.

The weather is cool and breezy, no mosquitoes.  Peaceful.  Surreal.

We call it a night.......

I am awoken at midnight by wind - lots of wind!  The tide has gone out and the sailboat is sitting in muck, but fortunately, we are not keeled-over. We are kind of "suctioned in" to muck, but level. I glance outside. There is no water around us for at least a mile. The tides are bizarre down here. There is a fierce storm blowing outside our cabin. I'm no expert on measuring wind speed inside of a small sailboat cabin - in the middle of the Everglades - but it sure sounds like a tropical storm. I quickly check radar on my phone: (Amazingly, I have Internet)

There is a huge weather mass Southeast of us. That, apparently, is where the "heart" of the storm is.  I really hope that it doesn't come our way:

I check again in thirty minutes.  It comes:

In the middle of all that red, yellow and green is a small sailboat in the middle of the Everglades, next to a tiny uninhabited island, all alone, getting pummeled. Nothing I can do about it; the boat isn't leaking (not even a little bit); we obviously aren't moving or sinking any further until the tide comes back in. I drift back to a peaceful slumber as the wind howls around us. Welcome to the Everglades!  

A bottle of red wine, accompanied with exhaustion, didn't hurt my sleep efforts.

Good night everyone from a tiny island in the Everglades. We're still alive!

See you tomorrow for: Sailing - Chapter 4 - Highland Point Beach

Sail - Chap 2 - Bahia Honda State Park

Good morning, everyone. Hello from the Keys.

Today, we find ourselves on Bahia Honda Key (State Park). Nick's brother-in-law, Don is the Director of all the DEP State Park Rangers here. He has a beautiful, two-story stilt-house on the North end of the Key.   

Don likes to work, drink beer, fish, talk about fishing, talk about various boats, is buying a boat in two days for his own birthday, and was in the Coast Guard. Did I mention that I really like Don?!  Great guy. We spend a lot of time on his screen porch swapping fishing stories.  No exaggerations or embellishments, of course.

Here is a picture of Don and his daughter Natalie who are both graciously hosting all of us for two days: (I, of course, am the only one who is not family). Natalie is a college student at Stetson studying marine biology - or something close to that. Thanks Natalie, for putting up with all my extremely poor "Dad" jokes. I really enjoyed our Key West "chicken" game - and making you laugh against your will. Thanks for caring about our environment.

100 steps from Don's front (or back) door is the water. Specifically, it looks just like this:

Absolutely beautiful. From almost the same spot where I took this picture above, I caught this little Jack Crevalle throwing a gulp shrimp:

Same day. Another perspective from Nick's camera. That is us standing there. Great job on the panoramic camera shots, Nick:

Once again, absolutely beautiful. It must suck for Don being stationed here in the Keys.  

I feel soooo sorry for him.  :-)

We're all headed down to the water for a stroll.

Different day, same beauty.

For these two days in Bahia Honda, I spend most of my time outside swimming, kayaking, and fishing. Summer vacations suck! I believe this photo (above), taken by Nick, was 1st thing in the morning.

Later in the day, I am standing in a few inches of water here facing North. Severe thunderstorms keep passing through every few hours. The weather is extremely unstable around us. I feel relatively safe standing here, but I do wonder what one of these storms would be like if it were to hit us while we are on the sailboat offshore. The lightning and rain in these storms is pretty severe. I choose not to think about that though. What are the odds of that happening?

Don lets us borrow his kayaks to go to a small island across the channel  

I'm really not enjoying myself here. 

I'm faking it.

This is me sitting in a small tree - probably drinking a beer - watching another storm roll through. 

I'm quickly learning how to not quickly do anything.  

A few more shots for you from our short kayaking trip to the small island that is on the right side of this picture below (across the channel):

Hmm. Weather is still very unstable.

Hmm.  Same shot a few hours later - yet another new storm. I wonder (for the umpteenth time) - what conditions would be like on a sailboat, in the middle of that storm - where I can't return to the safety of a house.  

Nah - that will never happen. Stop being such a pessimist, Marc.

Peace.

Kinda cool that people find conch shells, but instead of taking them, somebody built a table and people just place them on this table. This is on the small island that is in the pictures above. This table was right next to where I was sitting on the swing.

Okay. Enough. I think you get the "picture". Bahia Honda is a beautiful place. I will miss it.

But since we are so close to Key West, we need to, of course, take a short trip there so Nick's kids can experience it. The afternoon of the 2nd day on Bahia Honda, we all caravan down to Key West:

Everglades from the perspective of the Jeep.
I'm thinking they will look differently from the perspective of a sailboat.

Gotta get your picture taken at the southern-most point!  

Tourists.

Key West is still eclectic and unusual.

And cute.

So this is where it gets a little unusual. We are all walking on a small, non-descript side-street in Key West, in no big hurry to get anywhere. I am looking down at pictures on my phone. I look up because someone coming in the opposite direction is doing the same thing and we almost bump into each other. We both glance up from our phones to apologize, and then we both do a double-take. It is Caroline Cook (Sorry Caroline, I don't know your married name). Several years ago, before she got super-rich and influential, she was our PCG Financial Administrator. Caroline loves fishing - we used to fish together a LOT when I had my bay boat. What are the odds that we bump into each other in Key West on a side-street - gotta be extremely low. We chat for a few minutes. I am mad at myself for not getting a picture with her on that Key West street, but here is a throw-back picture many years ago on my "Geeks 1" boat - she having been the only person that I have ever seen to catch a starfish using a hook, baited with shrimp.  

Great seeing you again (albeit briefly) Caroline.  

Congrats on all your professional successes.

Current picture (courtesy of LinkedIn):

We continue our stroll through Key West:

Nick and I considered using this sailboat instead of his. 

It needs a little work, but it is a LOT bigger than Nick's!

Well, that about wraps up the "land" version of this adventure. 

Tomorrow, we launch. No turning back.

For two days now, I have walked past Nick's sailboat countless times, pondering our upcoming journey, considering the severe weather around us, re-calculating in my head the distances between waypoints. I admit, I have some trepidation and concern. Are Nick and I about to do something extremely stupid or extremely adventurous? Both? I mean, WHO takes an aging 22 ft sailboat from Key West to Clearwater in the middle of summer with thunderstorms all around? 

Apparently, we do.

I'll write to you tomorrow to discuss our launch and what is sure to be our "triumphant" 1st day sail.  Hopefully, I still have your attention for the upcoming: Chapter 3 - Launch and Catfish Key.  

Time for another beer and a bit more fishing on the key.  :-)

Good night, everyone.

Sail - Chap 1 - Preparation

Float plan.

This post is part of a multi-part series.  If you start reading now, you are hereby required to read ALL the upcoming posts/chapters in the next few days. There was simply too much content to put into a single post. All three of you (my readers) would waste your entire day reading if I put everything in one post. So, I have separated them (for the most part) by day labeling them as Chapters.

This first Chapter is pretty quick so if you get your cup of coffee (or wine), don't get too comfortable:

Waypoints on the left. 

Estimated float plan is the red line up the West Coast of Florida.

My best friend Nick has always wanted to sail around the world. Me, not so much. I love being on the water, but I don't think (okay, I know I don't) have the patience to be a sailor. I have known Nick since I was 13 years old; I met him at a 7-Eleven in Clearwater while I was playing "Asteroids". To say that we have been friends for a "long" time is definitely an understatement. We are quite different men, but the friendship has endured for 40 years. Nick has always been a bad influence on me, btw.  :-)

As a pre-cursor to his sail-around-the-world "bucket-list" endeavor, he got this "amazing?/crazy?" idea that it would be "cool" to sail his little 1970's 22' sailboat from Key West to Clearwater. That is about 300 nautical miles, in case you are wondering. Another way to put that - it is a long f**cking (fricking) way in a little sailboat. His brother-in-law, Don lives near Key West (Bahia Honda State Park), so that, Nick assured me, would give us an excelling starting point. Sure Nick, sounds reasonable.

When asked to accompany him, I, of course, said, "Count me in, Nick". YOLO, and all that. Nick is more adventurous than me, so I gotta do what I can to keep up with him. Since I know how to navigate (thanks Sea School), I spend a few weeks creating reachable waypoints, calculating distances and headings, analyzing bays, rivers and harbors up the West Coast, using my software to organize the journey and entering those waypoints into my little hand-held GPS.  (Our primary form of electronic navigation).  I put all this into a folder.

Do I enjoy this? - you're darn right I do. I would quit my job tomorrow if I could navigate every day.

Red wine ensures that my dining-room calculations are correct. I calculate a "minimum" of 8 legs - if everything goes well. That means a minimum of 8 days on a tiny, cramped sailboat in 100+ degree heat. What could go wrong? At this point in time, I'm still going with the word "adventure". I'm sure you're thinking that too.

Nick spends these same weeks preparing the sailboat: Installing a VHF radio, setting up a solar array,  installing devices, repairing sails, running cables up the mast, and working on the 1983 9.9 HP Johnson engine:

Wow, that is a HUGE Cabin for two people!? Right?!

Look how clean it is.

Okay, that is a bad-ass solar array.  Gives us power 100% of the time. 

Our phones can stay charged as well as everything else on the boat.  

Great job, Nick.

Solar Power. 

I'm guessing we will have some sun in June in the Everglades.

New VHF Radio - Very important. 

More on that later.

1983 9.9 HP Johnson.

When I arrive, I ask, "What's the bungee cord for, Nick?"  

Answer, "Oh, that holds the cowling on."  

Of course. Dumb question.

"So if the bungee cord falls off while we are sailing, the engine is open to the elements?"

"That would never happen".

Of course not.

Dumb question.

The bungee cord has "1983" stamped on it.  Just a coincidence, I'm certain.

June arrives - the time has come - we're committed.  Yes, you are free to use that word metaphorically here.

If the boat looks small to you it's probably just the angle of this particular picture.

For the record, the sailboat IS bigger than the Jeep - but not by much.

So in the middle of the June summer (100+ degree heat, beginning of hurricane season, you know, perfect sailing conditions), I arrive in Clearwater where we all pack into Nick's Jeep, load the sailboat, and head out for our 6 hour drive down to the Keys. Nick's wife Nathalie (also the name of the sailboat) and her daughter follow us in their little-red car.

We head South.

Rain, rain, everywhere. Lots of severe thunderstorms all across Florida. No way this is a bad omen.  The weather will improve.

Things go quite well until we pass Naples and start heading East across Alligator Alley towards Miami. We hear a loud "pop".

Nick and I look at each other, "Did you hear that?"

Damn, flat fire. The tire is shredded - and that is a brand new tire. It's raining, cars are whizzing past us at 85 MPH (the slower ones) and we have a guard-rail directly next to us. It is slippery.

Work the problem....
I ask Nick where the lug-wrench is.
"Back of the Jeep, he replies". I pull it out.
Then I ask, "Nick, where is the lug nut wrench that actually fits the boat trailer lug nuts? Your Jeep lug nuts are much smaller."

"What?!, Really? No."

......  Time passes while Nick spends time talking to AAA. They inform him that they don't work on boat trailers - and they won't be sending anyone out to us. Now I know why I'm not a AAA member.

Boat trailers:  God's true test of Men (I got that quote from Mike Wilson).

People ask me all the time, "How do you launch your boat?"
My reply is always the same, "By phone!"

Nick is obviously getting very frustrated with AAA. Standing on the side of the highway enjoying the rain, I have time to formulate a plan. Nick finally agrees with me. It simply isn't safe for us to all remain here on the side of the slippery highway in the rain. So Nick reluctantly unhooks the boat trailer, leaves it, and we all make an illegal U-turn in the median and return to Naples.

WalMart!

As soon as we enter WalMart, a storm from hell hits. Hey, at least we are all safe. Well, as safe as one can be in a WalMart. While WalMart does have lug-wrenches and a new Jack, they do NOT have any trailer tires that fit. The roof sounds like it is going to blow off from the storm.

Nick Googles, calls around and eventually finds "Custom Hitch & Trailer" about 7-8 miles from Walmart. Glory be, they have a tire that fits! But they close at 5. It is 4:40 p.m. We check-out our WalMart stuff and haul-butt. It has stopped raining. This particular storm has moved on. Storms are fierce down here!

We arrive at Custom Hitch & Trailer at 4:56 p.m. The guy that works there, possibly the owner, I'm not sure, is as nice as he can be. He suggests we purchase TWO trailer tires. Normally I hate being up-sold, but this is the easiest up-sell of my lifetime. In addition, this guy gives us his business card, writes his cell number on it, and tells us if we need him for our emergency in the next hour, that he will come help us. What an awesome dude! I intend to send him a "Thank You" card with a Visa gift card. Nice people rock.

We caravan back to the boat, but about 5 miles before we get to it, I see a "Road Ranger" truck in front of us - travelling in the same direction.

"Hey Nick, get in front of that guy. He'll help us". Nick has his doubts.

We arrive at the boat. The new lug nut wrench fits. I get four (out of five) of them off when, hello - the Road Ranger pulls up behind us.

47 seconds later they have the new trailer tire installed. Well, okay, they have hydraulic, portable tire-changing tools. I could have done it in 10 minutes.  :-)  But, hey, I am more than happy to have assistance. Thanks gentlemen:

We tip the road-assistance boys and we are back on the road. Problem solved.

The boys are asleep in the back of the Jeep, the weather has cleared and we even are blessed with a double-rainbow:

There is no way anything else bad could happen during this sailing adventure which has yet to begin.

11 hours later, we arrive safely in Bahia Honda State Park near Key West. Nick's brother-in-law Don greets us all, late at night, with dinner and open arms.

Time for bed. We're all pretty tired. Nice job Nick getting us all here safely. I know you are tired dude.

Tomorrow: Sailing - Chapter 2 - Bahia Honda State Park.