Finding Quark: The Perfect Boat for Us & Bringing Her Home. Texas -> Florida

Bringing Quark Home: Rabbit Island - Florida (HOME)

Finding the right boat is just the beginning. The real adventure starts when you take her home. Quark was destined for Pensacola, and our journey through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida would be a story filled with triumphs, challenges, and unforgettable memories. Each leg of the voyage taught me lessons and brought moments of wonder. This is the final chapter of our epic passage from Galveston Bay to Pensacola Bay.

Louisiana: Rabbit Island—A Glimpse of the Wild

After a harrowing start to our journey in Texas, Rabbit Island in Louisiana felt like a refuge. Nestled at 30°8.973'N 89°38.201'W, this anchorage with its mud and sand bottom provided solid holding and protection from east, north, and west winds. It was an ideal place to regroup. We stayed four nights, and those days were a blend of tranquility and surprises.

Just beyond the marshy shores lay Rigolets Marina, and from our spot, I could see an old lift bridge and hear the rumble of passing trains. The ICW felt alive with the hum of distant traffic, yet the island itself was a wild sanctuary. Alligators occasionally broke the surface of the water—a stark reminder of nature’s presence.

Despite the peaceful surroundings, not everything went smoothly. One gusty afternoon, a strong wind flipped my beloved Magma grill and kettle overboard, a painful loss that drove home the importance of securing gear. Even so, the experience gave me pause to appreciate the quieter moments of life at anchor. Finally, with provisions restocked from a run to the marina, it was time to move on.

For the first time on this journey, we hoisted the sails and felt the wind push us forward. It was exhilarating to leave under sail power alone. Our destination: Ocean Springs, Mississippi.

Mississippi: Ocean Springs and the Thrill of a Night Sail

The daylong sail to Ocean Springs was one I’ll never forget. The waters, familiar from years past, felt like old friends welcoming me back. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I steered Quark through darkening seas, my first night sail of the trip. Every ripple in the water seemed alive, every shift of the breeze a whisper of guidance.

By 10:00 p.m., we reached Ocean Springs Small Craft Harbor (30°24.313'N 88°49.333'W). I exhaled in relief as we tied up at the city-owned marina, a haven with protection from all directions. The atmosphere was vibrant. Shrimp boats lined the docks, and local fishermen sold fresh shrimp and crabs straight from their boats. After days of salt and sea, the bathhouse showers felt like a gift.

A dear friend joined me both nights at the harbor. He arrived bearing gifts of tequila, a warm breakfast, and even a Whataburger burger. Those shared meals and stories reminded me of the power of friendship and the simple joys of good company after days of solitude on the water.

West Horn Island: Beauty, Dolphins, and a Gale

Leaving Ocean Springs, I pointed Quark toward the untouched beauty of West Horn Island (30°14.943'N 88°44.106'W), part of a national seashore. It was a perfect, remote paradise with a sand bottom anchorage and wind protection from the southeast, south, and southwest. We stayed for two idyllic nights.

Belle had miles of pristine beach to run, her paws kicking up sand as she raced along the shore. Dolphins danced in the water nearby, putting on a show that seemed made just for us. At sunset, the sky exploded in hues of orange and pink, reflected in the calm waters—a scene that etched itself into my memory.

On the third night, I made a mistake. Relaxed by the serenity and a few sips of tequila, I didn’t check the forecast. The weather shifted dramatically. A storm roared in from the north, with near gale-force winds. I woke as waves broke over Quark, and the anchor began to drag. Heart racing, I scrambled to the cockpit.

For more than an hour, I motored into the wind, driving on the anchor to keep us from grounding. Finally, I managed to pull up enough rode to escape the breaking waves. We limped to Petit Bois Island, where the land offered just enough shelter for the anchor to hold. Exhausted but relieved, I collapsed into a fitful sleep.

Morning brought a new challenge. My main halyard had slipped halfway up the mast. Improvisation saved the day: with a snare rigged to a dock pole, I managed to hook the hardware and bring the halyard back down. The ordeal was a humbling reminder of the sea’s unpredictability—and my own resourcefulness.

Alabama: Bayou la Batre and a Taste of Solitude

Our next leg brought us to Bayou la Batre (30°20.968'N 88°16.586'W), a quaint fishing town where shrimp boats glide in and out of port. The anchorage, with its sand and mud bottom, provided excellent holding against northerly winds. Dolphins greeted us, leaping joyfully as we approached.

We spent two peaceful nights there, soaking in the solitude. Few other boaters ventured near, and the ICW was our only company. It was a slice of pure, undisturbed beauty—a reminder of why I had embarked on this journey in the first place.

We set sail for Wolfe Bay, passing under the towering Dauphin Island bridge. From there, we navigated through the ICW across the broad expanse of Mobile Bay, a route brimming with memories.

As we approached my hometown of Gulf Shores, nostalgia swept over me like a warm sea breeze. The waters carried us beneath the familiar arches of Lulu's and Tacky Jack's just as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over the horizon and igniting the sky in amber hues. Our next destination was the serene

Ingram Bayou (30°19.078'N 87°33.275'W), where we anchored for two tranquil nights. This hidden gem, just north of the ICW, offers a mud and sand bottom for reliable holding and protection from winds in all directions. The daytime bustle of jet skis, charter fishermen, and local boaters gives way to a peaceful, wildlife-rich sanctuary at night. My first morning there brought a surprise—a member of a company I once worked for cruised past in a 192 Hurricane boat, a moment steeped in sweet irony and the curious turns of life that had brought me back to familiar waters.

Florida: Fort McRee and Bayou Chico—Coming Home

We made our final approach to Fort McRee Cove (30°19.647'N 87°19.226'W). Nestled near NAS Pensacola, this anchorage is my heart’s home. All-around wind protection, panoramic views, and the roar of Blue Angels overhead make it a favorite. Belle and I had it to ourselves, a private welcome back to familiar waters.

Our last stop was Bayou Chico (30°24.311'N 87°15.436'W), where I planned to assist a friend with hauling his boat. We stayed four nights, but one morning shattered the calm. Someone tried to steal my dinghy. I awoke to the sound of trouble, called the Coast Guard, and stood my ground with my pistol until help arrived. It was a sharp reminder of life’s contrasts—peace and peril often ride together.

Two days later, I moved Quark into a marina, marking the end of this odyssey.

A New Chapter Begins

It has been over two years since that final anchorage, but Quark and I are far from finished. As I write this, graduation is just weeks away, and a new adventure beckons. We’ll set sail for the Keys, passing through the Gulf’s scenic anchorages and waterways. I’ll be documenting this voyage with a video blog, sharing the thrills, challenges, and beauty along the way. The countdown is on—March 17th marks our departure—and I invite you to join the journey! Follow and subscribe to 'The Gulf Coast Sailor' for more stories, adventures, and the unfolding dream of a life driven by the sea.

Fair winds and following seas!