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Our saga begins with an explanation of the BEER Cruise held near Pensacola Florida on the Inter Coastal Waterway (ICW). The ICW parallels the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean inside the barrier islands from way up East down to the Texas Gulf Coast. The BEER is an event held annually by the Gulf Region Interstate Trailer Sailors (GRITS). These sailors are a loose knit bunch of folks with trailerable sailboats who travel to different locals to sail as a fleet of friends. There are different groups in different regions such as the West Coast Trailer Sailors and another group on Lake Erie. Anyway, the GRITS hold the Backwater Environmental Escape Rendezvous or BEER Cruise. The itinerary called for meeting Friday, 8 June, at the shipyard for launch, the skippers meeting, and excellent food prepared each year by “Cajon John” Roddy and wife Miss Stephaney. We sailed on Saturday from the Pensacola Shipyard Complex to Navarre. Navarre is half way to the Fort Walton Beach area where I live. The next day; Sunday, we sailed back west to Pensacola’s Quiet Water Beach. Monday found us leaving Quiet Water for Sand Island west of the Pensacola Channel and just south of NAS Pensacola. Sand Island is a spoils island just off the end of the Sherman Field runways. It makes an outstanding location to view the Navy’s Blue Angles demonstration team as they practice their show. There is nothing like the vibration from six F-18 fighters flying in close formation three hundred feet above your head as you stand on top of this island. It is the sound of Freedom! Because people from all over the country attend this event, the BEER is held in early June to accommodate the varied school closure dates. This makes the BEER a great early summer family event. Everyone is welcome and you will see many different boats here from home built Privateers to medium sized production boats and everything in between. See the following link for more information about the BEER. http://home.att.net/~tmsj21/



The young and dashing Cap’n Scott; along with two lubbers, and his sleek and modern Bermuda rigged sloop met grizzled old Cap’n Craig and the venerable Tops’l Sloop Saralee at the shipyard marina on Thursday. Cap’n Scott had been there since Tuesday reconnoitering the area for potential prizes and had taken his lubbers out in the big water to begin their training in the fine art of seamanship. Little did they know what they were in for by the end of the cruise.



Thursday night the bull was shot and grog downed while it was learned that the lubbers have never been on a real boat in open water. Mr Bill lusted for his 22’ Master Mariners Rating while Mr Dan was more reserved but seemed quietly eager for the same thing. In atonement for past slights of honor Cap’n Scott was shamed into sharing his crew with the shorthanded Cap’n Craig on the Saralee.



Friday morning found our intrepid seamen a bit under the weather due to the large grog ration of the night before. As reported else where, it seems that Cap’n Scott and Mr Bill had slipped away during the evening in the Captain’s Gig to an unknown location for some secret purpose. Treasure could it be? As the morning turned inevitably into afternoon the other boats began to arrive in larger numbers. The dock was filling up fast. Captains and crews from the far flung corners of the country (and just up the road) were arriving with expectations of adventure and fellowship with other buccaneers.



As the sun began to set………………………………………………………………………………..

………………..preparations were being made for the Captains meeting to lay out the rules of engagement for the fleet; and, also the feast Cajon John was providing. This feast has become a tradition for the BEER and is beyond compare. It really gets everything off to a good start with the social that occurs after. Many old friendships were renewed and new ones made. More and more people sign up every year.

With dinner over the Captains and Mates fell to chatting with friends and discussing such important matters as: how she wiggles when she walks, giggles when she talks, and how fast those boats will go. Bill and Dan; being newcomers, felt a bit out of place with these seasoned mariners and asked to borrow Cap’n Scott’s truck for some errand or other. Cap’n Scott tossed over the keys with a caution to be careful. The apprentice Mates hurried off into the darkening night. Cap’n Craig and Cap’n Scott stayed behind to swill the grog and catch up with the other Masters and their tales of new ships acquired and old ones refitted. Slowly the crowd thinned as Captains and crews left for their berths in anticipation of sailing with the morning tide. Cap’n Scott suggested a night time sail on his purple witch boat. She’s called a witch boat because she needs no wind to sail! This is the boat that sailed rings around the Saralee in Georgia the year before and cost Cap’n Scott his apprentice Mates services this year. Laughing over the incident the two men set off in the general direction of Pensacola Bay on a whisper of air. Scott says mayhap we should look for the Mates as it was nearing 22:30. He claimed to have an idea where they were.

About ten minutes into our cruise Scott’s cell phone rang. Yes, a Pirate with a cell phone, we do adopt some modern ways. It was Bill with a report of vehicle problems. Seems the windshield washer was spraying over the windshield and onto the roof. Bill was sternly rebuked by his Captain for his poor humor. Cap’n Scott rang off and informed me that he now knew for sure where our apprentices were. Seems there were many voices and music in the background during the call. Scott hauled the sheets in a bit and set his jaw. I continued to watch the rusting hulks of the junk barges and derelict vessels of the ship yards appear out of the gloom. Soon the noise and laughter coming across the water signaled the existence of a large grog shop. And close to the water it must be judging by the clarity of the voices of the people.

As we ghosted around a small point containing an abandoned fish processing plant the multi colored lights of either a tavern or a Chinese Ore House came into view. “Tis the Oar House”; Scott informed me, “and we’ll find our Mates there I recon”. The dock was full of power boats and party barges so we slid silently up on the sand a small way from the structure. Our stealth was wasted as Mr. Bill had spied our approach and ran down to take some grainy photos of our arrival while Mr. Dan made the crowd aware of the presence of two of the most feared pirates on Bayou Chico. We rejoiced to find our crew safe and of course the crowd ignored us completely. So did the grog wenches when we entered.

The grog shop looked like a junior high school dance with most of the boys on one side and the girls on the other. There were only a few in attendance that had survived as long as I and they appeared to be there with their grandchildren. Dan excused himself to go buy a T shirt, err ah, obtain some plunder. Yes, that’s it, plunder. I remarked that there didn’t seem to be many couples in the bar but Bill waved off my comments and ordered another round of grog. Scott decided to get plunder too and called the serving wench to show him some samples. When she returned I remarked about the un-pirateness of the pastel colors where upon Cap’n Scott started talking funny with limp wrists and discussing the prospect of the three of them wearing their going-steady shirts on the cruise. Kind of a uniform like says he. Ole Cap’n Craig remarks about, “being shanghaied to a fag bar and that this was Pensacola after all”, but his comments were again waved off by Mr. Bill. They all assured me this was not the case but I watched all of them closely from here on.

At this point it was joke time and a pleasant hour was passed amongst us swapping jokes and sea yarns. Finally near to midnight Scott and I set off in the witch boat with the Mates taking the truck and treasure back to the docks.

Saturday morning came too early, but broke fair with a slight west wind and the promise of more………………………………………………….

I need this adventure, thanks for taking me along 8)

The grand kids really beat me up this weekend :roll:

No problem Mike. Glad you are enjoying it. the good part is just ahead. :lol:

Great story Craig , I'm sittin' in the living room laughing my a$$ off :lol: ,
Keep it going, the suspence is killin' Me

Brian.

Now that's a great tale, Greg. AAARRGH! Pass the Pusser's.

You guys have my Pop looking at a deep water boat, I think he has been hooked. :lol: :lol: :lol:

Dont stop now! I wanna hear the end of the story
Brian.

.. The other crews woke me about 05:30 but I rolled back over and caught a few extra winks. Finally I got up and brewed some coffee. Everyone wandering by stuck their head under the sun shade (read redneck bimini) to say hi. As I gradually came alive under the soothing rich coffee, Scott came by. I asked him where the mates were and he informed me that they were still asleep. That was OK with me as I needed some food and had to clear the decks of the camping stuff. Dan was scheduled to sail with me that day and when Bill finally wandered down from the showers or somewhere I asked about Dan. Bill said “he’s is still asleep”. I told him then he would go with me and to get his stuff we were shoving off. Bill ran to get his kit as I warmed up the iron jib to clear the shallow dock area. All grins, Bill was back and cast off the dock lines. The BEER had started!

We motored out of the marina and into the Bayou Chico channel. The wind was still west but slight so we elected to motor all the way out. Besides it allowed us to finish the coffee. I explained the workings of the boat and the duties of the Mate. This, plus, all the cautions of the slick decks and one hand for the ship etc, etc, life jackets in sight, all of that.

After clearing the channel markers I gave Bill the helm and I went forward to free the main gaskets and shake out the jib. Up went the rags and Mr. Mate was sailing. He still had that grin on his puss but that is the usual response to conning these boats for the first time. I explained how to trim the sails and what each color line did. Bill just sat there grinning and nodding. I finally shut up and just let him enjoy what he was doing.

The wind was light so I suggested we raise the top sail. Mr. Mate agreed so I pulled it out of the cabin and went forward to hoist her up. Of course with Bill watching I had to tangle the thing all to hell and even managed to rip a small hole in it on a sharp swedge that didn’t get taped. When she was set to my satisfaction and chagrin at ripping it, we sat back and enjoyed the look of her and the little extra oomph imparted by the bit of extra sail area. She was pointing well so I thought I’d try the # 1 Yankee. I managed to raise that without ripping or tangling it around everything. About this time Scott and Dan caught up with us and I asked to come aboard to take some photos of my boat. I never get to see what she looks like while on the water. Scott maneuvered in and I jumped to his fore deck. Bill veered off and I took some photos. She sure looked cool but the small fore jib was not really adding much to the effort. Back aboard, I quickly raised and rejected the # 2 Yankee and soon had the big #3 up. That was the prototype that I used at Nick-a-jack Lake with Bud. You could feel her take off. The winds were still light, maybe 6 or so but we were moving much faster and Scott soon fell behind. Bill and I slowly ate up the pack and soon there were only a couple boats out ahead. What a thrill to see everything working as it should and for a change it is me passing them. Fun, Fun, Fun.

Sitting up against the bulkhead shouting orders like the supercargo and day dreaming about how to make her faster I spied gathering ripples on the water from the WSW. That and the beginnings of a small chop. I cautioned Mr. Mate to watch his wind and went back to my daydreams. Suddenly with out warning,,, wait , no, no that’s not right. It was the storm, ya that’s it.

The storm.

Suddenly the sky turned a real bad color of dark. Thunderstorm dark, black even. The wind began to howl and the waves were sweeping the quarter deck. All the ships abandoned the fight and were running for port or back away from the storm. Our intrepid Master and his Mate were fighting to control the ship that was now seriously over canvassed. There was lightning to the right. Lightning to the left, then relentlessly lightning fore and aft. One bolt after another crashed into the water as the good ship raced on under a full press of sail. No time for the GPS readings now, we have to save the ship and ourselves. Suddenly the wind shifted to SW and our ship was fighting on though healed to the port rail. The Mate still had the wheel when the bolt struck the topmast snapping it at the partners! Down came the top rig in a bunch with the big Yankee going over the side to become a sea anchor pulling the bow of the good ship under!

Arrr, yells I (and some other words not fit for repeating here), “ into the wind Mr. Mate”. Leaping to the decks I dropped a full open bottle of cold water into the Mates lap as I rushed to cut away the wreckage of our rig. With guns still blazing I slashed lines and halyards to retrieve the sails and return the ship to an even trim. Slowly bringing the situation under control I again began to be aware of what was around me. Some of our fleet mates were pulling up on us and seeing the wreckage wrought by the bolt asked if we needed help. I waved them off with the universal Pirate gesture of; no Scott, it was the thumbs up sign. After seemingly endless labor I finally had our decks cleared to continue the fight! Arrr, twas the Gale of the Century but we and the fleet survived, albeit we were a bit the worse for ware. As I climbed back into the cockpit I noticed that Mr. Mate’s eyes were the size of saucers. Then softly he asked “Did I do that???”

“No” says I ; “but, did you happen to notice how fast we were going?”

Upon our arrival at the Pirate haven of Navarre the grim news of the Saralee’s fate swept up and down the beach like wild fire. Many of the company came to watch as old Cap’n Craig sawed away the final bit of damage after dropping the mast. Twas the remains of the new carbon fiber topmast hanging from the partners like a limp,,,,,piece of standing rigging. We tied the remains to the port chain plates and I thought it looked forlorn. Mr. Mates says “Hey, that looks just like a missile hanging there with that white tip!” “Arrr” says I, “we be a bit slower now but just let a wave scooter try to out run our heat seeker!

So lads this is how Mr. Bill earned his Master Mate Certificate for 22’ warships. Given his flawless handling of the ship during weather fair an foul and his cool handed assistance in times of emergency during the murderous gale it was the least I could do to reward his dedication to ship and crew. Plus he bought the rum all night.

So gentle readers our crew is safe at last and snug in their berths at Navarre. As the gale winds growl their last, the blow drags my stern anchor and I rub my prop against the side of Pilgrim. Crawling out of the cabin I also find the big sprit is wedged fully into Primrose’s shrouds and the bob stay chains heading for her glass rail. So once again the old Cap’n drags his tired, weary arrrrss in to the cold water to save his ship………………

Great tale Craig! Sorry I haven't checked in to input my two cents but I climbed into the witch boat to make it to the Oar House but turned to Starboard rather than Port and found myself in the Puget Sound! After 10 days recharging the old magic I finally have made it back and will share pics and tall tales later.

Few comments though, have you ever seen a salty old dog like Craig blunder and blush? Talking about pastel shirts seems to do the trick. Before the Yankee went up I did have to circle back to check on Craig. When that beautiful sail went up, Craig started outpacing the whole fleet though I don't think he had quite the speed he needed to sail circles around me. :roll: I was very envious of the vacationer's shallow draft which allowed Craig to sail along the beach and see the dolphins while I stayed in the deeper channels out of concern for my daggerboard.

Next year...I plan on doing the cruise in a gaffed rigged homebuilt catboat.... :wink:

Well if Scott is going to put in his two cents worth I had better come clean with storm part of the story. The damage might have happened a little before the lightning. Seems we were tooling right along with the Mate Bill at the wheel when I noticed some ripples beginning to form on the water. I cautioned the Mate to keep a weather eye as the wind was building a bit. The next thing we knew a big gust blew up and the topmast snapped dropping the tops’l and that damn big Yankee right into the water. What a mess! Had I been paying attention instead of just watching us pass the other boats I would have known what was coming and got a smaller sail up and the Tops’l down before the gust. Oh well, the top needs to be stiffer anyway.

Bill and I anchored for the little thunder storm. There was lots of lightning and it is better to be safe than sorry. We sat in the cabin and drank beer while the rain and wind blew by then motored in with the Gale of the Century story.


Gentle readers our story continues....

……….After correcting the dragging anchor mentioned in the previous installment with a bigger rode and anchor borrowed from Travis I went back to my berth to rest a bit after the exciting day. I was to meet the others at the bar later but winked out and slept the night through. The ole Cap’n may be getting a bit long in the tooth as it were. Ahem, Arrr, etc…

Sunday broke bright and fair with the light wind blowing from the East. Dan was to sail with me today and he was up and ready to go. The crews were fed and watered and we set off for Quiet Water Beach. Dan is pretty quiet but handled the boat well so I let him sail her most all the way in. We didn’t pass many boats this day but we got a few. We enjoyed sailing with the dolphins that others have mentioned. A small pod of three or four stayed with us for over 10 minutes. I saw the big one leap but was too far away to get a good look. Dolphins in the wild were new to Dan so this was a real treat for him. Lunch was hard tack and jerky, which is more than Mate Bill got. In all the excitement of the rigging coming down I forgot to feed him or me! Dan and I enjoyed the relaxing sail through the afternoon with long reaches and short tacks back to the south side of the channel. We saw a neat old three master heading east under sail and power. Quite the yacht in it’s day and she still looked good; although, twood have looked better as a gaffer.

I took us into Quiet Water and we anchored up with the fleet. I ran her aground trying to sneak in behind a couple of power boats. We ended up anchoring right in front of them. They left soon after to keep from being boxed in by all the sailboats coming in behind us. Last year we got a bad north wind after we all turned in so I did a bit better job with the anchors. I still had Travis Votaw’s big plow from last night and my 16 lb Danforth so between the two I wasn’t going anywhere. She rode easy nosed due north all night. We tidied up the boat and went visiting the others. Supper was excellent washed down by a couple of Diesel Oils and we set off to visit some grog shops. Much to our surprise they all closed early on Sunday night so we shanghaied a work boat crewman we found on the sidewalk and he took us up the beach to a later closing bar. After that we all piled onto the Saralee for a nightcap. Must have been more than one Pirate aboard or more than one nightcap as the morning light showed beer cans lined up from the sprit to the taff rail.

Monday was found to be clear and a million but the wind was but a promises so after breakfast and a bit of a linger over my coffee Bill and I lit the iron jib and headed for Pensacola Bridge to see what adventure awaited us today…….