Circular reference 


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Cast off lines at 1100 hours for our first family voyage aboard the new vessel. Winds were forecasted to be light out of the southwest, but with fair skies and calm seas, it was a good window to stretch her sails.

We raised the reacher and took her out across Biscayne Bay, wind at our back. She made a comfortable 5 knots downwind across the channel. Once clear of the open stretch, we furled the reacher and motored through the narrows, catching sight of two dolphins off our port side — a fine omen for a maiden family sail.

Beyond the channel, we raised the main and reacher again. But as quickly as the canvas was set, the wind died — down to 4 knots, barely a breath for a boat her size. With a storm line building on the western horizon and our speed dropping below a knot, we made the call to strike sails and motor back toward the anchorage.

That’s when it hit.

A sharp squall line swept across the bay, clear as glass marching on the water toward us. We were rounding into Biscayne Bay, weighing whether to drop hook or ride it out with slow circles in the open. We hadn’t zipped the mainsail, and with gusts now clocking 30–40 knots, Lisa went forward and wrestled the sail bag closed — not a small task in that wind. But she got it secured tight.

We made for the same anchorage we’d used two days prior, but as we were setting up for anchor, another vessel rudely cut in and took our line. No courtesy, no concern. We diverted to a nearby anchorage and dropped the hook — calm water, good hold, and a welcome swim to shake off the tension of the squall.

By late afternoon the winds had gone still, and we motored back to harbor. Jason brought her in smooth — textbook docking — with Lisa and Owen handling dock lines like pros.

A solid first sail. We logged time under every sail, rode through our first weather, anchored under pressure, and made it home in one piece. She’s seaworthy. And so is the crew.

— Captain’s Log, Signed and Sealed

Captain’s Log – First Family Sail

We set a course south for Elliott Key, but the wind and time weren’t in our favor. Realizing we wouldn’t make our intended run, we swung her around and dropped anchor off Key Biscayne. The water was warm and inviting — we dove in, letting the sea wash over us. The little deckhands found a new thrill: swinging from the boom and launching themselves into the blue like wild dolphins.

Spotted a sea turtle off the port side — always a good omen.

On the homeward leg, we unfurled the Genoa and caught a steady 14-mph southeast wind. She pushed us along at a steady 6 to 7 knots — smooth sailing all the way back to harbor.


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Captain’s Log – Memorial Day Maiden Voyage with Captain Rupert

We set sail on our maiden voyage with Captain Rupert aboard — a training sail meant to shake down systems and get familiar with how she handles under real conditions. With the main and jib raised, we pointed our bow toward Biscayne Bay under fair skies and a light breeze.

Our first stop was a popular anchorage, but it being Memorial Day weekend, the cove was chock-full of boats — elbow to elbow. We opted instead to drop anchor off the state park. Oddly enough, it’s an active channel, but there were a good number of sailboats already tucked in there. The traffic between them was fast-moving — folks zipping through on jetskis and center consoles — but overall it was a calmer and more relaxed spot than the main anchorage.

We got settled and took Lady ashore for a walk. The dinghy — a hard-bottom tender — rode smooth and steady, making for a pleasant trip. The kids jumped in for a swim while Jason and Captain Rupert stayed aboard and got dinner prepped. That night, we grilled steaks under the stars. A solid meal to christen our first night aboard.

We attempted to fire up the generator to run through overnight power checks, but she sputtered and surged. Something wasn’t right. We debated letting her run or shutting it down altogether. In the end, we gambled on it — and spent the night with her coughing and pounding away in the background. Not ideal, but part of the shake-down.

At first light, we weighed anchor and headed for the 100-foot drop-off along the Straits of Florida — a renowned fishing line per Captain Rupert. The wind was up — 12 to 15 knots — giving us ideal conditions for a spirited sail. The kids rode up on the bow as we cleared the bay, and right on cue, a dolphin surfaced alongside us, keeping pace for a few magical minutes.

We cast lines at the edge of the shelf with no bites, but spirits were high as we approached Fowey Rocks Lighthouse. We picked up a mooring ball and suited up.

(Note to self: Fowey Rocks Light was built in 1878 to warn mariners of the shallow reef there — the site of countless shipwrecks over the years. Its skeletal frame is a stark contrast against the turquoise water — a true sentinel of the sea.)

Everyone hit the water. Clear, warm, and alive — the reef was full of movement: schooling fish, swaying coral, and one massive parrotfish in an electric blue that lit up the seafloor. Reboarding was a challenge — the lighthouse waters were choppy, and hauling the dinghy back aboard was no small task. But it was worth every bit of effort.

We set sail for home with the wind behind us and broke out the reacher for the first time — she flew beautifully. The boat clearly favors a starboard tack — slicing through the water with more power and speed than she finds on port.

A solid first outing. Systems tested, memories made, and plenty of notes for the logbook. Until next sail.

— Captain’s Log, Closed

Lisa Bradley