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Florida Road Trip Washington D.C. to Orlando with Dr. Pitchpole By Chris Bolton Dr. Pitchpole is the somewhat mythical name of the Hobie Fleet 196 sage who dispenses advice and reports rumors to the fleet newsletter (several people have used this name in vain since it was created by Craig Simmons). Follow along as Dr. P. and others leave Washington, DC and travel south back in ‘95... |
| In an effort to prove that some people learn nothing from past experiences, Doctor Pitchpole and a few other die-hard sailors once again went down to Orlando for the Florida Citrus Sailfest. This year, just to be different, we decided to double-stack two 20’s and save gas. The Dr. swore that his custom high-speed tow vehicle (a 3.0 liter Taurus wagon) could handle this without strain, as he regularly gets 17 |
 Note the palm tree! No palm trees in DC in Dec! |
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mpg at
70 when towing a 20, and has gotten as good as 19 mpg. Unfortunately,
the wind resistance from a block of boats 8.5 feet wide by 8.5 feet tall
was seriously underestimated, and resulted in 11 miles per gallon for the
trip.
The first fuel stop was spent looking for the leak in the gas tank, before the ugly reality dawned. During the subsequent journey, some time was spent debating whether you could observe the gas gauge needle actually moving. There was a lot of time for debate, between the very frequent gas stops and the very limited top speed. Drafting semis became the game of choice as we attempted to maintain speeds over 60, although the turbulence was sometimes notable. More than once, the Dr attempted to bear off hard downwind for fear of pitchpoling, and only his quick (and sleepless) crew prevented certain highway disaster. One of the hardy band of travelers had arranged an overnight stay with his parents in Charleston,SC, but had not warned them of our 1:00 AM arrival time. All involved were extremely glad to finally sink into bed. Early the next morning, we zipped out of Charleston again, and discovered how sparsely gas stations are distributed along that stretch of Route 17. Just when the crew was preparing to draw straws for the anticipated long walk, a station hove into view, and much glad rejoicing was observed. The rest of the trip down was uneventful, and we arrived in plenty of time to unload the boats. The usual crowded (and warm!) beach greeted us, but that was a plus as we could grab 6 other people to pull the top boat off the rack. Along with the usual Mysteres, Nacras, Prindles, and Isotopes, we also observed a 22’ Supercat (with a 12’ beam and close to 40’ of mast). We did find a very nice black snake at the water’s edge while we were rigging; the Dr pointed out that this was a good sign, as ‘gator infested areas often had low snake populations, and better a few snakes than many gators. This prompted some discussion between those who did not accept the Dr’s knowledge of food chains, and those who did not like either alternative. We were pleased to see Jim and Pat Glanden (Delaware) and Mark and Carmine Schleckser (New Jersey); people who actually drove further than we did! A fleet of International Canoes had come down from Annapolis, complete with Bill Beaver and his Moth (a VERY narrow developmental class with wings). The Dr proved that sailing a cat with an 8.5’ beam in no way prepares one for a 14 INCH beam Moth (not counting the racks); the Dr further believes that this “ultimate” development of the monohull would lead most sane, rational people to quickly accept multihulls as the blessing of God. Mr. Beaver, however, showed us that the boat could in fact be sailed, and fairly quickly at that. Arriving at our B&B, we found a whole fleet of Buccaneer sailors who had come from MICHIGAN and other crazy places. The Dr regrets to report that the hot tub was not used at all this year. He can offer no excuse for this despicable behavior other than complete and utter fatigue. Saturday’s races dawned cool and windy (spray suit and wetsuit for the Dr), with some double trapping on the way to the course. This of course died down by the time the race started, but we still enjoyed 8-15 all day. The Dr and crew were doing well in the last race, only to have the mainsail clew shackle come loose and fly overboard 50 yards from the finish line; this cost at least 6 boats. 23 20s were on the line, down from last year’s 30+; attendance overall was way down from last year’s 700 boats (probably due to a loss of sponsorship and regatta fees of $80). |
| Sunday dawned warm but light, and many people were towed to the course. At least one tow was observed with a 16, 17, 18, and 20 in line; sort of a mobile history or |
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design exhibit. The Dr wisely reasoned that
starting was some time off, so he tied up to the starting pin instead of
drifting around. He stayed there for 3 hours. Highlight of the day was
when some very devious sailors drifted by the Dr’s boat and quietly
placed a rubber alligator on the Dr’s boat. The Dr and his crew were
engaged in serious mental preparation at the time (they had their eyes
closed), and did not notice this sneaky act. When the Dr finally came to
some time later, he was momentarily nonplused to observe that he was
sharing his trampoline with a belligerent-appearing reptile. The Dr later
asserted that he was not frozen in panic, but merely contemplating
whether to chase the creature away or attempt to capture it. His crew
disputed this, noting the panicky squeals coming from the Dr during this
ordeal. The RC finally gave up and sent everyone in; the Dr came from
behind to beat our fellow fleet members from 196 back to the beach for
a moral victory.
Not very fast on Sunday... So that was it. A five day trip for one day of lake racing. A frantic afternoon of packing up led to a leisurely drive back up to Tampa, where the Dr’s long-suffering car finally spewed its guts while stopped in traffic. A friendly motorist directed us to a gas station in a suspect neighborhood, where the Dr did heater hose surgery with a knife and a pair of vise grips. A local cop stopped by to observe our progress, and was asked by a somewhat nervous crew if we were likely to get mugged while engaged in car repair. He replied “Oh, I think you’ve got a pretty good chance”, said goodbye and drove off, leaving us to wonder if that was a good chance of getting mugged or of not getting mugged. Repair finally completed, we drove off again, unmugged. The car reminded us of its pain, however, spewing a small amount of antifreeze and steam every time we slowed down (later investigation showed a blown water pump seal in addition to the heater hose). This little incident allowed us to get into Charleston at 2:00 AM this time. It is very possible that one of our group may find himself disinherited. Two highlights of |
| the trip back spring to mind; one was being passed (at a high rate of speed) by Jim Glanden in a Volkswagen Van towing a 16, and the other was having to draft a Yugo going up a small hill in order to stay at 65. I should probably mention the small town restaurant we hit for lunch, with a huge all-you-can-eat buffet for $6, complete with collard greens, fried catfish, and three kinds of homemade ice cream! The car was two inches lower after this stop. |
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We made it there, we made it back, we got some sun. Maybe next year
we hire someone to drive the boats down for us? Maybe we quit our
jobs, and stay down there forever...
Chris Bolton cbolton@Belvoir.Army.Mil Back to Features |