Since Debbie and I had 5 days off, we planned to take YAGA, our H40.5, on a Christmas cruise down the coast of Texas. After a wonderful time on Christmas Eve with all the family, we were ready to go first thing Wednesday morning, only the water (tide) wasn’t ready. Much too low from a Northern that past through the day before and blew all the water out of Galveston Bay. By ten a.m., we were at minimum as YAGA’s fishfinder indicated 4.9 feet. So we cast off and put YAGA in gear but she didn’t move. At 2000 RPM she began to slowly move and soon we were plowing along (literally plowing) out of the Waterford Harbor Marina until we saw 5.5 feet at the entrance channel. The NE winds were light and with blue skies, we enjoyed having the water all to ourselves. As we motorsailed across an empty bay toward the Houston ship channel, we saw that it was full of merchant ships and tow boats heading in both directions. Debbie said the crews must get paid triple time to work on Christmas day. We monitored a very busy channel 16 and 13 on the VHF and let AP do the steering. It was an uneventful 3 hours down to the Bolivar Roads. The ‘Roads’ is where the Houston ship channel intersects with the Texas City ship channel, the Galveston ship channel, and the ICW. Plus the large Bolivar Island ferries (the car carrying kind) plow across the area on a frequent basis. And then there are shrimp boats pulling their nets and every fisherman in southeast Texas anchoring to go fishing there. And it is where some of the strongest currents on the gulf coast can be found. It’s OK during the day, but can be hell at night. We had a nice lunch and began to read ‘Letters From the Lost Soul’ by Bob Bitchin to past the time. We really enjoy reading to each other since it’s like we are telling a story, plus we can discuss our feelings about what we are reading ‘as we go’. Since we got the late start, and the NE wind was so light and we had to head SW to get down the coast, we decided not to go offshore out of the jetties, but instead, made the starboard turn to take the ICW to Offats Bayou for the night. In the ditch, there were 2 tows ahead and 3 tows behind us, all ‘West Bound’. Approaching the Galveston Causeway, we waited for an East Bound tow to clear the railroad bridge before going through. It was still early and the skies were so clear, plus we had a good forecast, so we decided to continue west to Freeport and stay at the Bridge Harbor Marina ($40). Near the West Bay Washout, we heard a LOT of geese, so we climbed up on the cabin top and saw a huge roost of snow geese, mixed with some speckle bellies, in the marshland right next to the ICW. Must have been over six hundred all bunched together, and many large ‘Vs’ heading in to spend the night with their buddies. It was quite a sight and sound show. Just past Chocolate Bayou, it got real dark, so we tucked in behind the tow ‘Doug Barker’, who said he was doing just over 7 knots and that we could follow him to Freeport. He would talk to the many other tows that he either passed or met for the next 3 hours and would let them know about the ‘little’ sailboat just off his stern. As we peeled off into the marina, we thanked ‘Doug’ for being our shepherd on that beautiful clear Christmas night. We had a great dinner, took a hot shower, sat in the cockpit listening to music and drinking fine wine (we do that each night even when we aren’t cruising) and turned in for a much needed rest. We were underway at 6 a.m., then headed out the Freeport jetties and into the Gulf of Mexico. We made the turn towards the Matagorda sea buoy some 65 miles to the SW. With YAGA running at 7 knots almost dead down wind, with her Genoa poled out to port, we watched an incredible sunrise and said good morning to several dolphins, which were with us off and on most of the day. Soon the aroma of coffee and bacon filled the cockpit. Debbie made her famous ‘killer breakfast sandwiches’ using scrambled eggs, bacon and cheese on croissant rolls. Like the bay, we had the gulf all to ourselves, so we let AP drive while we read and cat napped the day away. The wind increased to 20 knots and seas built to 4 feet. At the sea buoy, we doused the pole and did a chicken gybe and sailed with the wind on the starboard beam. Once inside the jetties, the water was smooth but we had large swells running up our stern. We had a wonderful experience as we sailed in the clear waters through the Matagorda jetties. A dozen dolphins accompanied YAGA for the 3 miles to the bay. Some were riding the swells on either side of our beam and others stayed right under the bow. We laid down across the anchor locker to get a closer look. They were so close we could almost touch them, and we would get wet from their spouts. They would turn on their sides and we could see them looking right at us. Debbie’s favorite greeting is “Hey Buddy!” to the dolphins, seals, pelicans or whatever else visits YAGA. They seemed to respond to her calls and would leap high out of the water for a better look. It was magical. Since the forecast called for strong NE winds through the night and we where now on the SW shores of Matagorda Bay, we headed into Port O’Connor, (POC as the locals call it), to get a slip ($40). POC is not much more than a fishing town with little to do but fish. Since it was cold and windy, we didn’t even get to do that. So next morning we found where the locals have breakfast, found a small store for some provisions and wine, found a seafood market for some stuffed flounder for that night’s dinner (they only had frozen fish) and then got underway ‘East Bound’. With the winds forecasted to stay at 20 out of the NE, we decided to motor to the small town of Matagorda that is right on the ICW, just past the Colorado River. There, we topped off the fuel tank, got some ice, checked in ($20), checked out the local restaurant and decided to try their fresh red snapper and softshell crabs for dinner. Debbie had never tried softshells before, but these were huge and looked so good that she couldn’t resist my offer of sharing our dinners. We both enjoyed the fish, crabs and baked potatoes ($38). The view from the restaurant was very good and the sunset was a brilliant burnt orange. Back in the cockpit we drank a glass of wine with some Black Forest cake for dessert as the wind moved to the east and died. In the morning, the forecast of light east winds indicated the sailing in the gulf would be great, but we had to continue NE up the ICW since running the mouth of the Colorado river to get to the gulf without local knowledge is a recipe for disaster. We were 40 miles from Freeport but should be outside the jetties by 1 p.m. We had another great breakfast underway and spent the morning reading to each other. Tow traffic was heavy but we had no problem negotiating the ICW with them. They do keep things interesting. Once outside the jetties, we motorsailed to the SE for two hours to put some distance between YAGA and the lee shore. Then we turned off the engine, put out a fishing line and sailed close hauled at 6 knots toward Galveston. I told Debbie that on our present course we would have arrived at Offats Bayou around dark. She said that sounded great. Then I said the only problem was the 2 miles of land across our path. She said ha ha, very funny, so what is our plan? I really didn’t know as usual. I mostly fly (sail) by the seat of my pants and let the cow chips fall where they may. I knew we would have to tack at some point with the steady east winds blowing 10 knots true to get around the Galveston jetties, and that meant sailing directly into the 3-foot SE swells slowing down our progress. I also knew the wind was suppose to shift more toward the SE but it showed no signs of shifting. It had increased to 13 knots, so our speed was up to 6.5 knots and AP was going a great job steering the boat. I couldn’t even come up with an ETTA (estimated time to anchor), since I hadn’t decided where we would anchor for the night. Just before dark, we had a hookup and the rod was a’bending. As Bob Bitchin says “Kewl, fresh fish for dinner!” Alas, not to be, it turned out to be a mess of balloons probably from a cruise ship. As we approached the beach, the wind finally began to shift to the SE. Every 20 minutes or so, we changed course by a couple of degrees. Soon we were running parallel to the beach in 20 feet of water about a mile out, but we still had the 5-mile south jetty to get around. And following a fantastic sunset, it soon got very dark with no moon. The jetty rocks are very low and don’t show up very well on radar. About 3 miles from the jetties, we were still getting lifted, and I was beginning to think we could fetch the mark right off the end of the jetty without tacking. It was about that time that I reminded Debbie of the story of a guy who sailed his 40.5 onto the very same jetty 5 ½ years before. And how he went back to the dealer to get a replacement but that just 2 weeks before, WE had just bought the last one! We also heard a lot of talk on the VHF about a dense morning fog forecast. Debbie was beginning to show signs of stress. She even had the nerve to ask me if I knew what the hell I was doing. With less than a half mile to go, I felt it was going to be too close, so I told Debbie to get ready to come about. She said let’s just roll up the Genoa and motorsail around the jetty. Wow, why didn’t I think of that! We turned off the tri-color and turned on the steaming and running lights, started the engine and rolled up the Genoa (which helped my vision immensely). So around the jetty we went with lots of sea room between the rocks and YAGA, even though we were close enough to hear the waves crashing over the rocks. We turned downwind with lots of inbound and out bound traffic, buoys all around, the green side of the Houston ship channel to starboard and the jetty just off our portside, all against a background of many different colored lights. Not the best place to be at 10 p.m. on a Saturday. With the change in wind direction, the dodger immediately and COMPLETELY fogged up. For a moment we were blind, but Debbie quickly rolled up the window which allowed me to see a dark shadow with a green and a red light on each side and between them, two vertical white lights (ship’s range lights) DEAD AHEAD! I estimated the distance to the large outbound ship to be about 2 miles and that it should be turning to port shortly as the channel does a dogleg just ahead of us. We had heard a report from an outbound ship just a few minutes before that had just passed the Galveston ship channel intersection. We figured this was the ship and we were out of the channel anyway, so NO problem. I checked the radar carefully trying to sort out the many targets. I looked up to check the ship – STILL on the nose. Something didn’t seem right about the way she looked and since I had a little room to maneuver to port and NOT wanting to risk crossing her bow, I turned 10 degrees to port. There was still no change to her range lights, so ten more degrees to port. I zoomed to half-mile range on the radar and got a target off the starboard bow, at a quarter of a mile and moving fast. I turned hard to port and finally the range lights began to separate. The large ship was actually a much smaller (150-foot) crew boat running outside the ship channel on what they like to call ‘a line’, which means they do not turn for ANY reason. They passed us in the dark at 20 knots about a 100 feet away, leaving us rolling in their 4-foot wake. Bow on, they look like a merchant ship at night. Could it possibly get any worst than that? Well, we still had to get through the Bolivar roads. Sure enough, it was worst, as 7 tows converged on us from 5 different directions just as the Bolivar ferry got underway right on our starboard beam. We had fun to say the least, as we slowed down, powered up, and changed course numerous times to kept out of their paths as they maneuvered about us, each seeming to go in a different direction. They used their super bright spotlights to look for channel markers and of course, they ended up shining them right at us, and if you don’t shield your eyes, you can loose your night vision for a very long time. Try steering your boat with one hand over your eyes! Of course, this was also the time when we needed to cross over to the red side of the Houston ship channel. The run up the ship channel to Redfish Island was a milk run in comparison to the roads, as the wind became calm and the water turned to glass. There were lots of tows, but no ships, until we got to Redfish where we needed to cross back over to head to Kemah. Right there, 2 outbound tows followed by a ship were talking to each other, so I jumped in and suggested I cut across between them since the gap between them looked large enough and I didn’t want to wait and cross in front of the ship behind them. The second tow captain said “Well sir, I’m a running pretty hot to pass the tow in front of me who just cooled them off a bit to let me by. That gap is going close real fast and that there ship is a pretty good ways behind me, so you might want to cross behind me.” I checked the position of the ship (making sure it wasn’t a crew boat) and determined I had plenty of room behind the second tow. I came back with “Roger, Roger. I will followed your recommendation and pass you astern. Thank you Captain and have a Happy New Year.” Of course, I cut it a little too close behind this HUGE tugboat (looked like a Mississippi riverboat without the paddlewheel), that was doing at least 10 knots and throwing this large wake off her side. But the real wake was in her wash, 5-foot rollers following the tug’s stern that luckily showed up in her bright stern deck lights, so at least we knew what hit us. It was like a Disney E-ticket ride. As we went past Redfish Island, we saw 5 sailboats and a couple of powerboats anchored in the protection of the recently re-built island and could smell the bonfire they had built on the beach. We discussed stopping there for the night, but the foggy forecast kept us moving on towards our slip and a goodnight’s sleep. Powering across the smooth bay, we eased the throttle up to 2800 RPM and saw 7.7 knots. I knew I was getting to a place on the fuel consumption curve that I wanted to avoid, but it was a good feeling to have her moving that fast with no vibration and very little noise. The bright lights of downtown Kemah and the Boardwalk (Restaurant Row) came into view. In the dark waters, we saw several crab trap floats pass by just a few feet away. I wondered what they would do if we ran over one? Soon we were running up the Kemah channel and the place looked like a ghost town. Very errie, I thought it was kewl. We docked around 2:30 a.m. after a 290 nautical mile Christmas cruise. The next morning we awoke to fog as thick as pea soup.
