June 1 , 2004
Kissing the ground like the Pop

We had a beautiful night sail. The seas were fairly flat with spirited breeze and we were sailing on the beam reach all night long, relieving each other at the tiller every two - three hours. Some time after 2 a.m. we passed few fishing boats and I tried to hail Coast Guard on the VHF radio to find out if we can check in Key Largo where we were heading to see our friends. No one was responding to my messages but at some point I picked up a Coast Guard Radio's communiqué about 30 some foot sailboat that was lost somewhere on the reef, requesting everyone in the area to maintain a lookout. This was the worse message you could hear when you're just about to cross the reef yourself, it was still pitch black all around us, with the exception of the stars, crescent of the moon and the lights of commercial ships which I tried to dodge. Traffic around us seemed to increase and I was wondering if we were being mistaken for the missing boat. One particular ship appeared to try to intercept our little vessel with swift movements. I tried to get away from the hulk changing my course, tacking, jibing and finally waking up Tobi. I don't know what exactly was happening, but close encounter with the ship of proportions of a small town was not what I had in mind for tonight. I'd rather socialize over the radio instead.

The Gulf Stream current at this point was pushing our boat sideways at the speed of about 3kn, something to keep in mind when you try to aim for a brake in the reef. I had prepared exact waypoints on my GPS to aid me in this, but lost my heart to do it in the dark after that terrible radio announcement. I turned the boat around and waited for the blessed daylight.

Daylight came with its usual haste as it was holding it's breath under the seas all night. The sun popped its head over the waters like the big orange cork bottle stopper, releasing all the chirping birds back to life. In a striking contrast to it all we were quite ready to anchor somewhere and rock ourselves to sleep.

Whoever was at the Floridian weather controls that morning of June 1, 2004 was performing poorly. The wind was turned down and the heat was cranked right up. It was baking. Humid and baking. We crept over the reef and drifted slowly towards familiar shape of the Rodriguez Key. Wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a smile we arrived to Key Largo, Florida, Good ol' US of A. As soon as we dropped the hook I dove in to seek some relief from the heat. Water was soupy but wet enough to wake me up and I made the trip in the dinghy over to the land. I was excited to leave a message for our friends about our arrival and less excited to find out from US Customs that I have to keep going towards Miami, because we can't check in from Cuba in Key Largo. Bother. Miami it is. I walked towards my dinghy and looked over my shoulder at the town of Key Largo taking in its sounds and smells, watching longingly at its chilled bars filled with kegs of cooled beer, visualizing nearby grocery stores filled to brims with yummy food and fresh veggies. I listened awhile to friendly chatter in English, thanked God for this country and jumped into my sailing dinghy to zigzag back to my boat and deliver the news.

Maciek