On the Intercoastal Waterway - Texas

Note: This blog is written by me, Leslie, a novice boater, where I attempt to describe experiences from a novice’s perspective. Details are fact checked by Adrian who has a lifetime of experience on the water, here along the Gulf and other places around the world. Those readers who know the area or have a great deal of experience, may find descriptions of sights and events common place, while those with little to no experience may appreciate learning about what happens on the water.

One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

Friday, May 3, 2024. Waterford Marina, TX.

Life on a boat means dealing with the unpredictable. We boarded with our final load of supplies anticipating an early afternoon departure, when Adrian discovered there was a problem with the hose that feeds water to the engine. It took most of the day to investigate the problem and then replace the hose. I spent a good part of the day defrosting the small freezer in the refrigerator. After a good meal, we said goodbye to some friends on our dock and called it a day.

Saturday, May 4, 2024 - Red Fish Island, Texas

We finally left Waterford Marina at 10:05 a.m. after filling the water tanks and we headed out to get diesel. The water was choppy as the winds were around 18-20 knots. The sky was gray with cloud cover, but the breeze was divine as we dropped anchor at Red Fish Island, North of Bolivar and Galveston Islands, two hours after departing.  It’s quiet here as I write this, except for the chirps, caws and cackles of the various birds and the thrum of the barge engines that pass us every few minutes just on the other side of the “island”.

Red Fish Island

Sunday, May 5, 2024 – Back to Waterford Marina

We woke to a grey sky that nearly matched the water. Checking the weather in anticipation of moving on, “gale force winds” were predicted for the area. We decided to head back to the marina. We left Red Fish Island at 7:00 a.m. and reached our slip at 8:30. The wind was behind us, so we made good time. We could see lots of lightening to the north – the direction we were headed. So, we laid low that day. Some minor tasks kept Adrian busy, and I hope to start a macrame project. But first, a nap!

We made good use of the time: did some laundry and took a hot shower and one last dinner out (for a while) at the Sundance Grill. Rainbow trout for me, Fajitas for Adrian. The $6.00 Margaritas packed a punch. Early to bed in anticipation of an early departure the next morning.

Monday, May 6 – On our way at last – Texas Gulf Waters

I was feeling the effects of the margaritas from last night, but regardless we shoved off our slip at Waterford Marina at 6:56 a.m. and entered the Galveston Bay at 7:20. Winds were at 17-18 knots from the southeast. The ride was not as bumpy as it had been Saturday since we went at a slower speed. The sun came out from the otherwise grey clouds making the water glisten in places. Dozens of seagulls followed us out of the bay, likely thinking our trawler resembled a fishing boat. Sorry guys, no free breakfast. Our breakfast consisted of coffee and ginger snaps. Waters were too rough to be moving around much.

Using navigation programs on his iPad, Adrian steered Petite Fleur through West Pass, a continuation of Red Fish Island. We had to wait for a large oil tanker to pass before we could cross at Marker 45.  It only took a few minutes to cross.

While we were at West Pass, we got a call from our friend Phil Kropf who had been following us on an AIS Vessel Finder, He advised us not to go to the Bolivar Crossing since the whole area was filled with tugs and barges waiting to go the Petro plants in the Houston Ship Channel which were flooded by the recent rains. Since we had already planned to take Sievers Cut we were able to avoid much of the heavy barge traffic.

Stingaree Landing

 The waters were a bit rough for a couple of hours due to the winds. As we entered Sievers Cut at Bolivar Peninsula we turned East on the ICW (Inter Coastal Waterway) The waters were about 2 – 3 feet above normal so the channel was plenty deep for our 3.5 ft. draft. (Depth below the keel’s water level.) We continued toward our destination: Stingaree Landing across from Crystal Beach.

A beautiful 40’ Catamaran pulled in behind us at the dock later that evening. We had a nice chat with its pilot who had bought the Cat two years ago. While sailing it back from New Jersey, he nearly lost it in a storm while docked. He’d spent a sleepless night watching the water levels of the floating dock. Had they kept rising, his boat would have become unmoored and been subject to the elements – likely smashed against the dock. The water levels went down, and he and his boat were safe. He remarked that he had been “pretty stupid to stay on the boat, but he’d just bought it and couldn’t abandon it.”

He now lives close to Stingaree where he picks up his clients. He makes his living (and payments on the boat) by taking people out for a sail into the Bay at $150 a person. He normally takes 6 at a time, twice a day, so he makes a nice chunk of change from March through October. He greatly admired Petite Fleur, saying he hopes to live on a boat like it in his retirement years, though his wife does not share his dream.

He wanted to take our picture before he left because we reminded him of his grandparents who taught him to sail when he was young. He planned to share the picture with his cousin who he thought would “get a kick out of the resemblance.”

Tuesday, May 7 – A Long Day at the Helm

We shoved off the Stingaree pier at 6:58 and made our way along the ICW still heading east. The sun overwhelmed the cloud cover at times, causing the water to sparkle ahead of us. The pelicans were busy catching their morning breakfast of fish. They seem accustomed to boats as they would stay put until we were nearly on them, before flying off.

We maneuvered around more barges heading west. There was weak cell connectivity where we were so could not sent pictures to family and friends. They seemed to appreciate our updates though.

“See You on the Two”

Along the ICW beyond Stingaree, we encountered many barges. Some were “parked” along the North side of the channel. To park the barges, “pusher boats” or large tugboats, also called “light houses”, move alongside the flat-bottomed barge and literally push it to the side “into the mud” leaving room for other barges and boats to pass. Other barges were actively heading west toward Galveston and Houston. We were told the reason why some barges were parked was because of the flooding from the recent heavy rains. Other barges were moving West toward Houston. Possibly because the latter have higher priority to deliver their goods. As we “sail” through the ICW Adrian was in communication with those barge captains moving West to clarify which side of the barge to pass. Two of them told us to “See you on the two” which means that we should pass them on their starboard side (right) to our starboard side. Conversely, “see you on the one” means to pass on the port (left) side, which is the standard. It’s interesting to hear the various accents of the ship’s captains, many have a strong Cajun twang or a Texas drawl.

I am learning to take over the helm so Adrian can catch a quick nap, brew tea or make adjustments somewhere in the boat. We’ve agreed to an hour on and an hour off on these long stretches. I must be doing well since the “skipper” is comfortable enough to leave the captain’s deck. “Steering” involves either adjusting the auto pilot by a degree or more as needed to stay in the middle of the channel, or by turning off auto pilot and steering by hand.

There’s not much to see along the ICW as there’s land on both sides of us. Most is vegetation with little wildlife, although we were surprised to spot a few cows munching the grass on the south side of the channel. I was surprised to notice telephone poles further along on the southern bank, since we had not seen any signs of “civilization” (other than the barges) since leaving Stingaree.

We turned into Taylor Bayou against a strong current and maneuvered around parked barges and one that was leaving the Bayou. The current made it challenging to make a sharp left into Taylor Bayou Outfall which is narrower and was unoccupied. We dropped anchor at 1:45 p.m. and settled in for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Adrian busied himself by adjusting the anchor, checking the engine, setting up an anchor light, and other maintenance tasks, while I made dinner out of leftover fajita meat. I made progress on my macrame project, washed dishes and caught up on Duo Lingo. I’m trying to learn Dutch, but so far, I can read only a little, speak it even less and understand it when it’s spoken, not at all.

As night settled around us, we realized that the mosquitoes are prolific here. Thankfully there are window screens on the hatches, but a few found their way in just before bedtime. I have a half dozen bites by the time I crawled in bed. I seem to be more appetizing than Adrian as he had none. (Three days later I had upwards of 60 bites!)

With no internet connection, I can intermittently catch some of the Astros baseball games, but lately the Stros are losing more times than not so far this season.

Wednesday, May 8 – Taking it easy.

We decided to stay at Taylor Bayou Outfall since we hadn’t slept well. Mosquitos were buzzing in our ears and the anchor chain made grinding noises when the boat drifted on its anchor to a certain position. In my groggy state of mind, I imagined there was an alligator gnawing barnacles off the side of the boat. I swear I could hear it swimming around out there. No, just the anchor chain, which Adrian adjusted the next day.

We slept in a bit and had a late breakfast of blueberry pancakes and honey. We packed plenty of food, but it is stowed in various locations in the galley (kitchen). So, it took about three times as long to prepare breakfast since I had to first find the pancake mix and the syrup. We never did find the syrup, so I’m thinking I didn’t buy any.  We tidied up the boat, Adrian fixed the anchor light, and researched our next few stops, calling ahead to ensure the water levels were good and that there would be a place to dock. I completed a sewing project and the first of five macrame pot hangers for the herbs and tomato plant I brought along.

We leisurely passed the day, enjoying the breeze on the aft deck. Ate more leftover fajita meat in an omelet with cheese, did the dishes, lit a mosquito deterrent to ward of those blood suckers and closed the boat for the night. We will rise early tomorrow to make our way to Shell Beach.

Thursday, May 11, 2024 – Shell Beach, TX

We left Taylor Bayou Outfall at 7:30 a.m. I was able to steer Petite Fleur out of the Outfall and onto the Bayou before Adrian took over. He is gradually letting me take the helm and maneuver past barges. My confidence is increasing. I hope to get good enough to “sail” Petite Fleur solo if there was an emergency of some sort. I don’t anticipate that I will ever need to do so, but it’s good to be on the safe side.

Our journey today was a short one, though not without its interesting moments. We passed a few very large cargo ships heading West. They were enormous in size, dwarfing the cars and forklifts along the dock. At one point we turned starboard into the channel where a large barge was parked on the starboard side (right) and another was passing us on the port side (left), leaving only a narrow 50-foot area for us to navigate between them. The captain of the parked barge was helpful in getting us by his vessel.

After 3 hours and 20 minutes we dropped anchor at Shell Beach. After the standard boat checks and adjustments, Adrian found an Agatha Christie book and I began “Rainwater” by  Sandra Brown.

I made a small pot of stew for dinner, which we feasted on with bread and butter and washed down with wine. Adrian declared it was a “Lekker hachee” – delicious stew.