Sunday finally came, and with the usual last minute flurry of activity, I pushed off a bit after noon. It was partly cloudy, with winds 5-10 from the south southeast. After motoring out to the Bay, I raised the sails, hoping to make the end of the Bay by night. Well, it was certainly night by the time I got there, an hour after dark. Doing my first real overnight anchorage in the dark seemed to go well, till I woke up around midnight and realized I didn't properly protect the rode from chafing. Going forward, I remedied that situation, and settled back to sleep. Raising the anchor the next morning, I found it had rubbed some, but hadn't cut any strands. Already, I was learning from rookie mistakes and realizing that being tired at the end of the day could have real consequences.

Monday though brought fair weather as I prepared to start motoring up the Ditch. Turning in from the Bay, I saw dolphins around the boat as if escorting me on my way. A favorable sign I thought. Not being sure of how much time I would make, I had arranged to stop at Stingaree Marina that night, but passing there by noon, I decided to press on to the recommended anchorage 15 miles ahead. Going slower than the barges, it was long after that that one began overtaking me. The oncoming ones had given me little problem, but being passed was different. Knowing they aren't that manuverable, I tried to give it plenty of room. Of course, I gave it too much and found myself hard aground. When I couldn't motor off, I got the second anchor into the dink and took it well back of the boat, hoping to kedge myself off. After winching for all I was worth, all I had accomplished was digging the anchor in without budging the boat. That's when I gave up and made the call to Towboat US, realizing, as I did, that I had forgotten to join before leaving. BIG mistake, nearly $800 worth of one. More than a month of my budget.

By now though, it was too dark to reach the anchorage, so back I went to Stingaree. Tuesday morning found me ready to push on, and determined not to make anymore costly mistakes. I had joined BoatUS that night on the internet, and at least would now get free service. Two changes I made where to stay in the middle of the channel as much as possible, and going fast enough to stay ahead of the barges. The day went smoothly and as I reached that nights anchorage in good time, the wind had begun picking up some out of the northwest. Not certain of possible traffic where I was, I set the second anchor off the stern to limit my swinging. On waking up I found the stern anchor had come loose in the night and not reset (a Fortress), so I hauled it on in, and made some tea and breakfast. Not too long after that, I began to realize that I was seeing things out of the ports on one side of the boat, that I had been seeing on the other side. Yep, I was now dragging the primary anchor (a CQR) and it wasn't resetting. Hurrying, I got the motor fired up, the anchor raised, and headed back out to the ditch. Thinking I was starting to get the hang of this, I felt pretty good about things.

As I passed through Port Arthur though, the wind became north and steadily increased. By the time I headed across Sabine Lake, it was up to 25-30 mph and I was bouncing through 4 foot swells coming across the shallow lake. Though it was rough, I thought once I got across and got a bit more shelter from the land, it wouldn't be as bad. The water smoothed out some, but the wind just kept on blowing. Still, I was making good time and should easily reach my anchorage for the night. What I didn't realize at the time, and would have had I looked at my paper chart more closely, it was just a deep area in a salt marsh. No protection from the wind at all. Easing my way in, I decided not to go in as far as I had planned. The water seemed much shallower than had been indicated and the north wind would only suck more out. I soon learned that the anchoring that had gone so smoothly and easily before, would not be in this wind. As I finally got the hook set, the boat swung around, over the dinghy line and immediately wrapped it around the prop and stopped the engine. There I was, in a heavy blow, hanging on the hook a boat length off the channel that was filled with barge traffic. It didn't take a lot of smarts to realize this was not good. Having my trusty new BoatUS member number though, I put in a call to Towboat US. "Sorry sir, but we have no coverage in that area". Instead, they contacted the local sheriffs office. After an anxious hour and a half, a wildlife enforcement officer showed up. He said he could tow me to a spot where I could tie up for the night, but my relief was short lived. It didn't take long to realize he didn't know much about towing a large boat. Somehow though, we made it to the pilings, and I got myself tied down for the night.

Thursday morning, the wind seemed to finally start dying down, though the mild weather had become definitely chilly. Fortunately, I had the number of a person who lived in the area and was able to get the ball rolling on solving my wrapped line problem. As I waited, I decided it would be a good time to check out the engine. The first thing I saw was a drip pan full of oil! Oh great, I thought, just what I need. I had planned to change the oil the Saturday before I left and had waited for the guy who said he would help me with. Though it's a relatively easy thing to do, for my first time, I wanted an experience eye around. When he didn't show, I figured I might as well doing on an early night, when the oil was good and warm. So far though, there had been no early nights. Checking things out for possible leaks, I soon found I had put a small hole in the oil filter while trying to tighten the alternator belt. So I ended up doing the oil change, without having to drain the oil. Since the low pressure alarm hadn't sounded, I hoped I had caught it in time to prevent damage to the motor.

At 6 that evening, a diver showed up and unwound the line from the prop. He told me everything seemed in good shape down there and though I was still concerned about possibly bending the shaft, I felt a bit relieved as I went to bed.

Friday morning, as I waited for the pontoon bridges to get past the 6-8 am closed period, I thought to myself that the boat had worked perfectly so far. All the mistakes and problems had been due to me and my inexperience. As I set out that morning, I was very aware of any possible new "noises" or vibrations. Everything seemed fine though, so I headed east rather than up to Lake Charles and a boatyard. (One note here about traveling where there are barges or other large vessels present, you'll only have to deal with at the most inconvient times and places) As the day wore on though, increasing paranoia about the boat began to set in. It was too late in the day to turn back though, so I kept on to the Mermetau River and the Lake Arthur Yacht Club. Waiting for the bridges though had cost me precious daylight and I soon found myself plying a winding twisting river in the dark. When I almost went aground and just missed hitting a tree in the water, I decided it best to drop the hook.

The next installment will be my four days at Lake Arthur.

Sunday, I took the boat out, but still heard the one noise that concerned me most. After some experimenting though, it seemed the likely culprit was cavatation noise. Though not fully reassured, since they generously offered to let me stay a few days, I decided it was best to think things over and examine my options. Checking my chart software, paper charts and guide book, I saw I could make marinas everynight through New Orleans. It would mean a couple of short days, but that no longer bothered me. I was gradually adapting to the pace I needed to go. Whereas in a car, you might mark the hunderd mile mark, motoring in a sailboat, the milestones become 5 miles instead. I realized, I was still thinking in car terms, and more concerned about getting there, than in the trip itself. That's when I really started to question whether I was ready to be doing this. The boat was, except for one lead on the external alternator breaking from being too short, everything had worked flawlessly. The only problems were with my performance. Monday afternoon, one of the members showed me an article on their bulliten board about a guy who had come through in December, 3 years earlier. Like myself, he was having some problems and wasn't sure what to do. Having a 23 foot Benetau, one of the members lent him his trailer, while another volunteered to haul it, and they took him to St Pete. Though he left behind a check, they refused to cash it, and he was barely able to convince the driver to take gas money. This I thought, is what sailors helping sailors is all about.

Though I obviously wasn't in a position to do the same sort of thing, I used the time to reach a decision to turn back, get some more experience, and try again in the spring. The days were too short, the nights too cold, services were almost non-existant ahead of me, and the clincher was, I knew I hadn't prepared myself as well as I had the boat. Though my pride was hurt, and I questioned my determination, and admittedly felt a bit wimpish, heck, a lot wimpish, I believed I was making the smart choice. If nothing else, it brought back a sense of relaxation and enjoyment at being out on the boat.

Wednsday morning brought a beautiful day, and with the weather suppose to hold through for a spell, I decided to head up that afternoon for the ten mile run back to the Waterway. Anchoring in a wide cove, just before the junction, I had time to spend time, just enjoying this lovely spot. Fixing one of my few hot meals along the way, I watched the sun set, and then the sky fill with more stars than I had seen since leaving Alaska. In many ways, it was the best day of the trip.

Knowing I was in good shape to make the bridges without worry about closed periods (even though it was Thanksgiving Day), I made my way back out to the channel with only one barge ahead in the distance. I settled into a speed that would, hopefully catch me up about the time we hit the bridges, and enjoyed the nice weather.

More to follow.......

Now this place had new planking on the docks, integrated power and water outlets, and a brand new office/workshop, so I expected a nice shower as well and eagerly looked forward to it. Checking out the facilities before going back to the boat though, I found the floor of the new shower to be filthy. So much for the shower I sighed. Checking out the laundry room, at least the washer and dryer were usable, so I'd get some laundry done.

As the guide book had said there was a nearby grocery, I inquired about it's location the next morning, only to find it was about 2 miles further than the casino. Another plan shot done. Since the diver who had helped me out ran the gas dock next door, I decided to walk over and say hi and have a look before I came over to fuel up. After chatting a bit, he said he was going for lunch at 12 and would give me a ride if I wanted. So here I was, paying the people next door, and he was the one showing me courtesy. Go figure. I do know if I ever pass through again, I'll stay at his place instead. Even though it has no facilities other than a dock.

Heavy fog was predicated for the next morning, and as the gas dock didn't open till 9, I had a leisurely breakfast and prepared to set out. After fueling up, I bid Carson goodbye and thanked him once again for all his help. Setting out back down the river, I was making excellent time and the day passed quickly and uneventfully, bringing me to my anchorage well before dark. There was already one sailboat there, and as I pulled in, the trawler that had been catching up with me, followed me in. With another lovely evening, and enough room for at least half a dozen more boats, I settled into another relaxing, enjoyable evening. I found myself grateful for knowing where I was going and having been through it before. It made it all much easier. Knowing tomorrow though would be a long day, and with the weather starting to turn on me, I turned in early and hoped for no fog in the morning.

Morning dawned overcast, but no fog. The wind was starting to pick up from the southeast, so once again I would have it on my stern quarter crossing Sabine Lake. At least though it would be 20 mph less than the last time. Finally getting Pleasure Island between myself and the wind, I could relax a bit. Until that is, I saw the huge freighter heading my way. It seemed to fill the entire channel, and I slowed down to see how this was going to work out. I had been learning though, and knew, the closer I got, the better the situation looked (usually). And so it proved, and we easily passed each other. Another hour, and I passed the anchorage from my third night out, knowing I only had one more day to go this time. About this time the trawler from the night before passed me, and I was hoping he didn't plan on anchoring where I was, as there wasn't much room. But 4 o'clock found me at the anchorage, and it was empty. Though the wind and current were running fairly strong, I decided it best to try to back in. It took a bit of doing, but I started to back my way in, only to come to an aburpt stop. So much for 6-8 foot depths I thought. Fortunately though, I was able to get myself off. Now I was faced with three unpalatable choices. I could either try again, hoping I just hit a bad spot, turn back to the previous anchorage, which was 6 hours away, or go forward and try to reach the marina I had stayed at my second night, which was about 3 hours away. It was 4 pm though, and that meant crossing the Washout in the dark. With the wind continuing to pick up speed, and the distance back to the other anchorage, I decided going forward was my best option. I could always hope for a wide spot where I could Bahamian Moor to stay out of the channel. None though had enough depth to get off the channel far enough, and I ran aground yet again. Once more though, I was able to free myself. By dark, I found myself at the Washout, and saw a line of 3 barges coming across, and one catching up from the rear of me. Seemed little choice but to head across. Though I kept getting blinded by the intense spotlights from the barges, I managed to stay within the bouys and made it across, while the barge that was catching me had to wait for the other 3 barges to pass.

By now, I was feeling pretty good about things. Another 45 minutes and I would be at Stingaree, and the channel ahead was basically straight. Steering by the depth sounder, I was able to stay pretty much in the center of the channel. Then about 15 minutes later, I lost sight of the bank and the depth sounder started reading shallower and shallower. Seeing open water to my port, I steered that way, but still the depth sounder continued to go down. Turning back to starboard, I once again felt that omminous ceasation of motion that meant I was aground once again. This time though, I wasn't coming off. After trying for about an hour, I finally gave up, and barely getting a signal on my phone, called Towboat US. With high tide still to come, and the wind at around 15 mph, I thought there was a good chance I would float off. So I told Towboat US, that if they didn't hear from me in the moring, to send someone out. I needed a place to stop, and since I was aground, I was certainly out of the channel. Throwing out the anchor, though I couldn't set it properly, I figured, if I did float off, it would slow me down enough to wake up to the anchor alarm.

Lo and behold, when the dinghy quit banging on the hull, I woke up sensing a change. Sure enough, I turned on the depth sounder and found myself in about 8 foot of water. Checking the anchor watch on the computer, I saw I hadn't moved much when I had floated off. Obviously, the anchor had caught and set, so back to bed for a few more hours before setting out for the last day. A day that dawned like a clone of the day before. As I was fixing my second cuppa though, off went the anchor alarm. Seeing an approaching barge, I fired up the engine, raised the anchor, and set out for my last day through a little drizzle. Reaching Galveston Bay, as I turned towards Clear Lake, I noticed how green the water was. Not algae green, but sea green. Soon there were a number of dolphins around the boat and the fetch began to increase as I distanced myself from the shore of Bolivar Pennisula. Setting the autopilot, I retired under the dodger for what proved to be a bouncy, but swift ride up the Bay. Though I felt a bit guilty about motoring instead of sailing, by this point, all I wanted was to be back at the dock. As I neared the Kemah Bridge, I saw but a couple of boats out sailing, with one more on the way out from the Bridge. I was back though, and that's all that really mattered to me at this point. A hot shower, something good to eat, and a good nights sleep where all that was on my mind.

And so ends my first cruise. I wish I hadn't had to stay in front of the weather, as I could have easily spent an extra day at both of the good anchorages on the way back. It was those two evenings that made everything else worth it. The kind of thing I had envisioned when I set out. So I'll pamper my poor abused Aria for a bit, then head back out for some short cruises here in Texas as the weather permits, knowing there are more of those idyllic anchorages ahead, just waiting for me.

I'll finish this up with some of what I did wrong, right, and how I should have done things.

Another area I could have done better in, is to develop cruising habits, rather than daysailing habits. This, mainly in the attention I paid to the engine. I was neither thorough enough when I did check it, and more or less neglected it at the beginning of the trip. It had always started and run well, and I was lulled into a false sense of security about it. Now, the key doesn't turn unless I've given it a thorough inspection first.

While my anchoring routines worked well for the most part, the one thing I forgot to include in them was shortening up the dinghy line so there was not enough line free to go under the boat. Again, using polyprophelene line that floated, I had a mistaken sense of security. If the dink gets on the wrong side of the boat , you can still go right over it and wrap it on the prop. Only takes once to make that a habit! Going back to the first point though, you need to put yourself in the best anchoring situation in the first place.

I also should have been paying more attention to my paper charts. Even though the chart software worked fine, you get a larger perspective looking at the paper ones. Also, I would have been more aware that the "good" anchorage I was heading to on the night of the big blow, offered no protection from the wind. As well as being aware there was a marina that wasn't on the software, or mentioned in the guide book, just past there. Even though it was closed for the season, I could still have tied up there, and in fact, that is where they towed me. So don't neglect your paper charts.

In the main, I just didn't prepare myself as well as I did the boat. It's as simple as that. And the boat worked almost flawlessly. Other than one broken electrical connection (due to the wire being too short) there were no boat related problems that weren't caused by me. Though some scoff at an electric windlass, I found mine to be an invaluable "extra hand". I can't imagine anchoring a lot without one.

On the plus side, I did learn from my mistakes and make the necessary adjustments to prevent them happening again. At least as much is possible <G>. And, despite the setbacks, I did enjoy myself for the most part, and look forward to getting back out there. I feel pretty confident that I made the right choice in adopting this lifestyle, and that as I learn and grow in my skills and knowledge, I'll enjoy it even more.

So, while there is certainly more than sandy beaches and warm weather to cruising, I can't imagine a better way to live. Hopefully, those of you who have read this little chronicle, will benefit from my errors, and even be more confident in doing it yourself.

Fair winds,

John