I fell in love with my dream sailboat on my first delivery job. She is a 1995 Baltic 52’ with a custom-built interior, thanks to the managing captain. The delivery was from St. Augustine, Florida, to Isla Mujeres, Mexico, around a 750-nautical-mile passage.
I arrived at St. Augustine Marine, where the Baltic had been in covered storage for one year. I arrived the day the Baltic splashed. There was a laundry list of items to check, clean, and test before we departed for Mexico. There I met my now long-time friend and mentor in the marine industry, Captain H, and our other crew member for the first time. Captain H’s list consisted of things like: having the fuel polished, electrical checks with the Victron system, acid washing the teak decks, provision, organizing the boat for passage, lashing down the dingy, testing and repairing the outbound motor, testing and running the water maker, and much more. I cannot recall all the re-commissioning check list items, but we worked 8 hours a day for 11 days to get her ready for passage. I loved every minute of it. I felt accomplished each evening. We were getting a lot done and coming closer to our departure date. The anticipation was building!
We were finally ready to depart for Isla Mujeres. The Baltic was as ready as she was going to get before passage, and we had a weather window to catch. We left in the morning; the sun was shining and the breeze was fair as we motored through the channel toward St. Augustine inlet, where we would meet the Atlantic. I was taking video, showcasing the Baltic, our crew, other sailboats, and the beautiful bridge in the bay. I was smiling from ear to ear with excitement.
We motorsailed down the east coast of Florida. There was not enough wind to keep us at a decent speed, and for many deliveries, sailboats must motor at times to keep pace. Thirty-six hours into our passage, the lights of Miami were shining. This would be my second night watch. In the evenings, we each had a 4-hour night watch. Different captains have different rules for night watches. We were to wake Captain H if we saw another boat, the wind changed, or saw something that did not seem right with the boat. This was understandable considering how green his crew was on longer passages, night watches, and that size of sailing yacht. These rules fit me just fine. When I woke Captain H, he was calm, cool, and ready.
I made instant noodles during my night watch. I ate my noodles in the cockpit, afterwards I returned below again to throw away the cup. My noodle snack, from preparation to throwing away the cup, lasted a whole 10 minutes at most. The second time I went down, I smelled diesel. I threw away the cup, went into my port aft cabin, where the door to the engine room is, and slowly opened the door. My headlight shone into the engine room, and I could see a hose wildly spraying diesel fuel all over the engine compartment. I shut the door and went directly to Captain H to explain what was happening. Captain H opened his eyes, listened, and, with haste, got up and shut off the engine. There was almost no wind that evening, so we floated idly. I stood behind Captain H as he opened the engine room door to investigate why the hose had come completely off the engine and was spraying diesel all over. It was not the correct hose in terms of density or size. The hose clamp had managed to hold for a period of time. Captain H quickly found a new length of diesel hose for that run. He replaced the hose as I peered over his shoulder. He started the engine, and we were motor sailing again. After all the excitement, I was like a toddler at 5:00 am, and Captain H was awake too. We sat in the cockpit chatting about the engine and hose for a couple of minutes. We were able to calculate the fuel loss based on how much was in the engine bay. It seemed we had only lost about 0.5 of a gallon. I explained that I get snacky while on watch, and when I came back to throw away my noodle cup, I smelled diesel and opened the engine compartment door to find the hose had come off. A smile appeared on Captain H’s face, and he laughed.
We continued sailing down the Florida Straits. On the outside of Hawk’s Channel, the draft of the Baltic was too deep to consider the shallows of Hawk’s Channel at night. We followed the curve of the Florida Keys until Key West, where we crossed the Straits towards Havana, Cuba. It was all uneventful, yet once we were about 20 nautical miles off the north coast of Cuba, the seas were a bit unsettled. Captain H suggested that we go a bit closer to the Cuban coast to find calmer seas. I was taking notes.
I was content during the passage. I enjoyed my night watch as well as the time off to rest. During the day, we took short naps, but for the most part, we were all awake. I didn't need much entertainment. The sound and sights of the sea, observing and learning from Captain H, trimming sails, writing logs, and making fuel calculations were more than enough. I had personal activities—reading and writing—when I needed time to myself.
After the Cuban coast, we had to cross the Yucatan Channel, which has a current running north. Night had fallen, and the sky was pitch black as we approached crossing the Yucatan Channel. We motorsailed in rather lumpy seas. The west side of Cuba and through the Yucatan Channel can be high-traffic areas. That evening, we had two crew members on deck. I sat facing aft on the portside while our other crew member was on starboard. After one bump of a wave, it was time to give a 360-degree view of our surroundings. A white light appeared off our port bow. I woke up Captain H, as instructed. Captain H came up to the cockpit, and we watched. The light, bouncing in and out of sight, continued to come closer while maintaining the same position on our bow. It appeared to be a potential collision course. Captain H gave me a spotlight, and he instructed me to flash it at the ship while updating him on the light moving towards us. He immediately called the ship on our VHF. There was no answer on the VHF after the first attempts to make contact. I flashed the strobe light in that direction. Finally, Captain H heard a reply from a seemingly groggy captain of a smaller cargo ship. He sees us, and he will come to port 10 degrees or so. Within 10 minutes, we were cruising through his wake, looking over our starboard midship at his stern light. We resumed our positions on night watch.
At daybreak, I was reading the last chapter of a book. I had also thrown in a fishing line astern the Baltic. BOOM! I had something on the line. I began reeling the fish in; she was heavy. It was a rather large Barracuda, probably 3 feet in length. I could not manage to lift the line while simultaneously using the plyers to grab the hook and shake the fish loose. I stomped on the cockpit floor, a sign for the other crew to come up. He was delighted by the fish—that is, until the barracudas gnarly teeth sparkled in the sunlight. We managed to get the barracuda off the line unscathed. Our crew headed down through the companionway, and I threw the line back in. Within 30 seconds, BOOM, another fish was on the line. This time it was even bigger, and I could not reel it in. I stomped again on the cockpit floor, and our crew appeared. He and I took turns reeling it in to reveal a massive barracuda. Neither of us could maneuver the barracuda to get the plyers on the hook, buried deep in its mouth guarded by snaggle-toothed daggers. We cut the line. With a mutual smile, I put the line away and stopped fishing for the morning.
It is a mellow day in temperature and cloud cover with moderate winds. Our ETA to Isla Mujeres, Mexico, was later that evening. While we were hoping to arrive in daylight, we were just a couple of hours shy of arriving before dark. Captain H was familiar with the bay and felt comfortable entering in the dark, so we carried on. There is always anticipation of arriving at land after a passage, whether it is the best sail you could have or the worst. In the early evening, we saw land. How exciting! I was about to complete my longest passage. Here is the thing: I was hooked. I loved the experience—the feeling of not seeing land while sailing, getting into a groove, and the “monotony” of sailing day in and day out.
Around 21:00, we entered the bay on the west side of Isla Mujeres. We entered the bay from the Northwest corner of the bay and motored southeast towards the marina. It’s about 5 miles long, ranging from 10 to 20 feet in depth. The Baltic draws 7 feet. I must mention that the keel on the Baltic is a wing keel that has a bulb in the middle of the wing, less-than-ideal to run aground. I didn’t take my eyes off the depth sounder as instructed. Captain H was sorting through all the lights on land and buoys in the water. The air was still as we crept across the bay, almost as if we were in stealth mode, trying to enter unnoticed. We had plenty of water (depth) throughout the entire bay, and we were in sight of our dock at Milagro Marina. It is a T-dock around 25 feet in length. Captain H must maneuver the Baltic between 4-6 pilings, ultimately docking to starboard. Imagine 3 pilings on each side of the slip: 2 forward on each side, 2 mid-ship, and 2 aft. The Baltic does not have a bow thruster, so the captain must know how to really dock a sailboat. Bow thrusters are on boats 45’ and up in length, they move the bow of the boat port and starboard, giving the helmsman more maneuverability. My job was to get the stern line around the starboard aft piling. With the marina dockhands waiting and lights shining down on us, we crept in. Captain H made his 180-degree turn. The dockhands caught our bow and spring line, and then stern line was secured. While the wind was still that night, we still needed to tie up to the pilings on our port side. The pilings were about 12 feet away at a 45-degree angle from the Baltic. Like a boss, Captain H lasso'ed the bow piling on the first toss. We tied off the Baltic, shut off all the instruments, and had a cocktail with dinner to celebrate our passage as well as Captain H’s birthday.
The owners were to arrive in one week's time. Captain H had more to do to spruce up and test with the Baltic. I was overjoyed to stay another week. We rose just as we had while preparing for the passage just 5.5 days earlier, around 7–7:30 for coffee and breakfast. By 8:00 a.m., Captain H and I were ready to dig into our lists. First off, a Yanmar technician cleaned the turbos. I was eager to sit by, watch, listen, and lend a hand or tool when asked. We cleaned up the hull, tidied the interior, and found and repaired a freshwater leak. Captain H was going over the systems, making sure everything was working properly, and launching the dingy and outboard.
The outboard is a 2-stroke Yamaha 9.9 hung up on the stern pulpit on a board, as is the case with many outboards on sailboats. There's no pulley system to lower or hoist the outboard on the Baltic. This was a maneuver: 1. lift the engine up and over 2. hand the engine to someone standing on tubes of an inflatable dingy 3. note the dingy is moving because you are in a bay on water 4. note standing on an inflatable dingy tube is already unstable 5. smoothly step into said moving dingy with an eighty-pound outboard 6. slide heavy outboard onto the transom of the moving dingy. For the worst-case scenario, we had a packing blanket laid against the hull as well as a rope tied around the outboard handle. The worst-case scenario was that I drop the outboard or he gets knocked over or off the dingy on his stepdown. We could not prepare for the latter. Captain H, standing about 6’ tall, was balancing on the dingy tubes with his arms raised and swaying slightly. The wave chop was small, but enough. I lifted the engine, then handed it down to Captain H in a smooth transition. He stepped down into the dingy and slid it onto the stern. We celebrated with an afternoon dingy ride to a local river bar for a Michelada and ceviche. The sun set that evening, and we were relieved of our boat duties until sunrise.
The Milagro marina is small yet fills with cruisers in the evenings. There were about 10–15 sailors, couples, singles, and kids. There is a larger cruiser community within the anchored and moored sailboats in the bay. There are fishing businesses, hotels, small beaches, and downtown waterfront walkways surrounding this bustling bay. Between our work on the Baltic during the day and the tasty restaurants, bars, and sailing community at night, we were busy and enjoying ourselves at work and play. The air was warm, the sun was hot, and the drinks were cold. We were on an island in Mexico, and I had just helped Captain H sail the Baltic here! This is what I wanted to do: deliver sailboats.
I flew back to Fort Lauderdale, FL, a week after completing my first paid delivery. A week after landing in Florida, I was flying back to Sweden for the summer. They say that when you sail instead of fly to a new location, your soul has time to catch up. When I landed in Sweden, my soul had not caught up; it was still in Mexico.
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