Ragged Keys

After my first trip to the Ragged Keys, I think I understand why they have that name.  I feel pretty ragged after that run.  But I learned a lot.

The Ragged Keys are a set of islands in shallow water running north from Boca Chita Key from about 25' 31.550" N, 80' 10.374" W to 25' 32.592 N, 80' 10.181 W.

For a deep draft boat like mine (5'), they're basically impossible to get close to, with the exception of the northern most key.  There is an unmarked channel running up to the northernmost key from Boca Chita Key.  If you have a GPS and current charts, you can find it and stay in the deep water.  It runs about 047 degrees up to the northernmost island from the Boca Chita Channel Buoy 1.   Be careful; it does get very shallow on the northwestern side, so cheat southeast.

I've been thinking about this trip for a long time.  In 2012 I got checked out on one of my sailing club's cruisers, a 26 foot Beneteau.  The captain who gave me the instruction told me about the Ragged Keys - and the channel - and I'd been thinking about it ever since.  But, it is a long way down or back, depending on the wind.  Not knowing how long it would take, I'd never made the trip.

No time like the present for adventure, so I left my mooring at about 11:30 in the morning, just after high tide.  This allowed me to take the John A Brennan Channel to Biscayne Bay, cutting off some miles.  I was lucky enough to have a beam reach direct to Featherbed Bank East Daybeacon "1" at 25' 32.364" N, 80' 12.521" W.  This is a view of Boca Chita Key and the Ragged Keys from Daybeacon "1":

Ragged Keys and Boca Chita Key from Featherbed Daymark "1"

I made about 4.5 knots, over the 10.5 nm, with a minor deviation due to a sailing regatta - the 2014 Melges 32 World Championship.  I like to race, so it was fun to run with that fleet for a short distance and watch them go.  I headed up into the wind to pass safely behind them, but they are very fast.  They rounded their southern mark and came right back at me.  I didn't even come close to interfering with them, but it was a little intimidating to have 40 boats coming hard at me as they beat upwind.  Very cool.  This is a shot of the fleet running downwind after I maneuvered behind them:

Melges 32 World Championship 2014

Steering is fun, for a little while, but gets old quickly.  I turned on my autopilot and let it handle the helm duties for the two-hour journey to the Featherbed Bank Daybeacon.  The autopilot wasn't very happy and, by the time I made it to the Featherbed Bank area (25' 32.172" N, 80' 12.449" W), the internal track had come apart:

Busted Autopilot

The autopilot had come with the boat, though the prior owner didn't even list it as equipment.  I got it working again, but didn't realize just how poorly the autopilot fit the helm.  It wasn't lined up quite right and couldn't be lined up correctly due to that wrap you can see on my wheel - it rubbed hard on the control console (this is/was a Navico WP 100).

Adding to the problem, the pieces that are supposed to grab the helm were missing.  I jury-rigged it and it worked, but it was strictly temporary.  I planned to modify the system so that there would be a better connection between the drive disk and the helm using a similar arrangement to the Raymarine Evolution EV-100 Wheel Sail Autopilot (http://www.raymarine.com/view/?id=6866).

Apparently the misalignment put too much pressure on the plastic track inside the drive disk.  The internal track cracked, as you can see, making the entire thing useless.  It was going to be a long slog home.

I sailed on into the Featherbed Bank area (which is another nice anchorage I'll write about someday) and headed up the unmarked channel to the northern Ragged Key.  It was stressful.  I arrived just before low tide and it wasn't very deep in there.  The depth sounder showed 5.1 feet of water in several places.  I had to keep reminding myself that I haven't adjusted it for the position of the through-hull fitting, which is a foot or so below my waterline.  Really, there was quite a bit more water there than my sounder showed. Somehow, that's no comfort to a guy who lives in fear of damaging his baby by grounding.

Here's what the approach looked like:

Approach to the Northern Ragged Key

I didn't hit bottom and made it up to about 25' 32.563" N, 80' 10.286" W.  I slowed down to a stop and went forward to toss the hook over the side.  I had the plow anchor on the end of the chain since my last trip, but it wouldn't hold.  The bottom there is seagrass and sand, so the plow just skipped along the top.

A word about anchoring in Biscayne Bay National Park.  It's permitted, but the park service doesn't really like it.  They're installing moorings where ever they can to give us options and avoid damage to the bottom caused by anchors.  I wouldn't call myself an environmentalist, but I don't like damaging the sea, either.  If there was a mooring, I would have picked it up.  I did see a sailboat tied off to old pilings on the northernmost Ragged Key (you can see her in the photo, above), but there sure wasn't room for me and I didn't think my draft would let me in that close anyway.

In any case, I think my danforth anchor would have worked, but I couldn't change it out when I was all by myself.  I decided to abandon the anchorage and head back to my mooring to see about the autopilot.  Best decision I ever made.

On the way out, I saw two boats anchored at about 25' 32.090" N, 080' 12.243" W.  That looked like a better idea to me and they had a nice view of the Ragged Keys and Boca Chita Key:

Featherbed Bank Anchorage

Boca Chita Key

In theory, a beam reach going down to the Ragged Keys should have meant a beam reach home.  Reality, however, always wins the battle between theory and practice and, of course, the wind had shifted to the northeast while I made my way south.  It would be a beat all the way home, with at least a couple of tacks.  And no autopilot to help tack.  Only one word for that: ugh.  As much as I enjoy sailing, I knew it was going to be a lot of work.

As I made my turn north and settled in, close hauled on a starboard tack, the GPS predicted a 5:30 p.m. arrival at the Dinner Key Channel.  5:30?  It was 2 p.m. when I got here! Good thing I didn't anchor.  Sunset is 5:30 and I didn't like the idea of trying to pick up my mooring after sunset.  I was alone, without an autopilot, and wouldn't be able to turn on my running lights without heaving to.  I also don't have a spotlight.

So, I did my best to make as much speed going north as I could.  Depending on the gusts, I was making 5.5 to 6.2 knots, which isn't bad for the S2 9.2c.  The GPS wasn't wrong - after three tacks, and some motor sailing to increase speed, I got to Dinner Key Channel at 5:15 with the sun one finger's width above the horizon.

There was still daylight when I picked up my mooring.  I admit I let out a sigh of relief when I was safely back on the mooring, but I shouldn't have worried.  The engine on my boat is solid and I know what I'm doing.  I probably can pick up that mooring in the middle of the night, but since I haven't done it yet, I'd rather not have the first attempt while I'm single-handing the boat and tired after six hours of sailing.

So there it is - another adventure and more experience.  The Ragged Keys are picturesque and would probably make a great anchorage.  But it's at least a day trip and one needs to leave Dinner Key earlier than 11 a.m. to have any amount of time there.  You need to have the right hook for the bottom, too.  Lessons learned.

Next time:  installing a Raymarine autopilot in a 1979 S2 9.2c!