"The sign on the restaurant read: "Breakfast served anytime".....so I ordered eggs during the renaissance..." (Steven Wright)

Friday afternoon about six we went over to Anchor to pay last months slip fee, and I saw DH going down to his Ranger 28, Renaissance. If you've followed this blog, Ranger and DH went down to Veracruz in July on the Veracruz race. He hasn't had her out since. Not enough tide to be able to get out of our silted in channel. Renaissance needs at least five and a half feet of water, but most times, in the shallow area just past the outlet, we don't have nearly that much. It's a pathetic situation, and the City of Port Isabel appears oblivious despite the fact that the Coast Guard has issued a Notice to Mariners regarding this (supposedly) navigable channel....

So DH has to wait for abnormally high tides to provide enough depth to get his boat out.

After catching up on the latest with Jean at the Marina;Mark is still in Bexar County can, and has got to wait at least four months to be able to get into a three month long rehab program, poor schmuck is going nuts in there, The San Juan 28 next to me is about out of slip fee, the owner is incommunicado, and there is water forward, no the marina is not sold, even though there are survey marks all over the curbs....

I visited with Wes from PYT Yacht Service for a bit, and he told me he could rebuild Olivias engine fresh water pump. So I figure I'll get the munched one rebuilt, but keep it as a spare after I get a new one installed.

Anyway, we went down and visited DH who was changing out his raw water pump in anticipation of going out on Saturday. We hung out awhile before heading over to Brownsville for some payday sushi....We ste a time of around 1400 the next day (Saturday) to go out as the tide would be rising, and maybe there'd be enough water.

On Saturday afternoon I got a call from DH that he was running late, so I told him to just give me a shout when he got here. Around 1500 he calls from PI and says that in his haste he has forgotten his keys to the boat, so I said "don't sweat it, just give me a call whenever....".

By 1600 we were at the boat, and his wife was on the way with the keys....

We got everything stashed, fired up his W-18, and untied, backing out of the slip and into the current. DH is moored on the last channel, sort of near Night Magic, and wind and current can be tricky here.

Outside the non-existant green can buoy, we watch the depth gage plunge from six feet plus to five eleven, five ten, five nine, five four, as the keel grinds in the mud near marker 13. STUCK, STUCK, STUCK! DH trys to wiggle us off with no luck. WIGGLE, WIGGLE, WIGGLE, the boat doesn't want to budge. I suggest we raise up some canvas, try and get some wind and heel off....

DH goes forward while I rock the throttle keep the nose into the wind. Oh God if we happen to come off, drift further west, it's all over except the crying. As shallow as a wading pool, we'd have to call that Extroment guy to pull us off. The thought is unnerving. So I concentrate at the task on hand. The main slides up the track and we heel slightly, but as soon as DH sweats up the jib (we're flying a 100%), the boat rocks to the port side, and we slide forward towards deeper water. We motor a while longer letting the engine cool back off, then shut down and start a series of tacks taking us in line with going through the causeway underpass. We have both managed to spill a beer by this time as the wind rocks us well heeled on each tack.

Under the causeway, we lose the battle, and have to tack in the middle of the crossing, but manage to establish a good enough line to the south portion of the bay. Now we are able to enjoy a couple of cold brewskis on a long starboard tack.

Crossing under the wires, we have to tack a few times in the channel near the island with the wind right onour nose, and Scarlet in her pontoon comes alongside for a moment and we chat about CB, who has now let the area for a new home in Austin.

One thing I like about sailing with DH, is that the trip is generally pretty quiet, mostly instinctual sailing, the wind doing most of the talking. To our southwest was a big thunderstorm which had been shadowing us all afternoon, and as we plowed forward, fat raindrops began to fall. I could care less.

We made it up into the Brazos Pass, but since the tide was due to be high at 1800, and it was already 1800 we decided to turn it around, and wouldn't you know it? The wind was robbed by the clouds and the edge of the storm, and we couldn't seem to make much more than about three and a half knots downwind.

Near the CG station DH fired up the iron genny, and we motored across the bay, sails luffing against the forward stay and the big pole.

Holding our collective breaths again in the channel, we managed to float over the bad spots with inches to spare. Inside the channel, DH made a couple of passes as the wind and current tried to keep him from getting into the narrow slip. Once inside, we tied up, and offloaded sails and gear before kicking back in the cockpit with another cold one. Jeff (Jupiter) drove up in the dark in Pablos skiff with a couple of big redfish, and held off alongside for awhile before vanishing into the night.

The beer finished, we headed out, for the moment, satisfied.