Captain's Log

Okay, my bad.  Just having too much fun in Marathon to blog, as it’s a real effort for me to sit and write.  Here’s the catch-up on our two week stay in Marathon.  Although we were initially planning to stay for just a few days, mechanical problems and wind and sea state kept us a bit longer.  As we tooled into Marathon, a call to the harbormistress revealed no room at the inn.  Suz and Susie got on the horn, and Susie found that Pancho’s Fuel dock (&Marina) had 2 spots available for us.  As I headed down the fairway, I had my doubts about the size of the slips.  Tatianna assured us they were wide enough for us.  When I rotated to back in, Suzanne kept telling me to pull forward to clear the pilings on the stern.  When my bow pulpit rotated over the boat across from us’ stern, I thought the guys eyes were going to pop out of his head.  As we eased back into the slip, I didn’t need to worry about drifting sideways, as the keel was aground.  Well, no harm, no foul.  After Jeff backed in next to us, we got a standing ovation from the patrons at Burdine’s bar, where the restaurant was emptied as we came in.  Later, we got on the waiting list for a mooring ball with the City.

Soooo, here’s the skinny on the clutch issue.  The generator motor has a power take-off on the front, which turns an auxiliary hydraulic pump that provides power for our emergency get-home motor.  Between the PTO and the hydraulic pump is a clutch, which is disengaged most of the time.  The only time that we use it routinely is when we need a little extra “oomph” in the form of increased hydraulic pressure for our anchor windlass and/or bow thruster.  Of course, if the main engine cacked, we would need the pump to power the get-home.  You may recall that I changed out the clutch when I discovered it had vomited its’ bearings during a routine belt change in Stuart.  When the new one started tap, tap, tapping in The Everglades, I took it as a bad sign.  Pitt Industries, the clutch manufacturer, was nice enough to send another new one to Marathon for us (no $).  Meanwhile I ordered some other parts, just to make sure that every link in the chain was pristine.  Long story longer, it took a while for all the stuff to arrive.  After all the goodies were delivered, the new clutch, coupler, and hub were installed in an hour or two, with Jeff supplying the much-needed muscle.  Sounds good, looks good, we’ll see how it does.  While there, I also took the opportunity to change oil, filters, impellers, and transmission fluids.  Hope the Girl is happy.

We had plenty of time to play, too.  Marathon is just across the 7 Mile Bridge from Big Pine Key, where Suzanne and I had met while on Spring Break from the Universities of North Carolina and Michigan, respectively-lots of fond memories of good times for us here.  The afternoon that we arrived, we rode our bikes over to another marina where Betty, on another Krogen, “Lili”, had graciously agreed to accept our mail for us.  Betty and “Lili” were gone, but Rob and Sue, aboard “Papillon” had the goods.  They also invited us to Burdines restaurant/bar, where local Krogen owners congregate every Friday night to listen to live music and swap lies.  That evening, we all walked over to meet the gang, eat, and listen to some tunes.  It turned out that there were about 20 or so current or former KK owners in Marathon that get together regularly during the winter, including the Wednesday morning breakfasts at the Sunset Grille.  When you have a Krogen, you don’t just have a boat, you’re part of a cult, and they’re everywhere!

There was lots to keep us occupied:                                                                                                                                                                                                                    We walked the old 7 Mile bridge, which is maintained (sorta) for bikes and peds only.  The 4 mile walk out to Pigeon Key and back with a mile bike ride to and from gave us an opportunity for a little exercise in the mornings.  Suzanne and I remember driving over it before the new bridge was built.(1982)               The Turtle Hospital on Marathon treats injured turtles from all over the Keys, helping to preserve some nearly-endangered species.  Most of their patients are released after stays ranging from a couple of months to a year.  Some are permanent residents, having injuries severe enough that they couldn’t survive in the ocean again.  The most common of these injuries they call “bubble butt”.  When a turtle gets an impact injury, they often develop a malady wherein they get a gas bubble in their abdomen which keeps them too buoyant, and unable to dive.  If a turtle can’t dive, he can’t survive.  In captivity, the turtles are fitted with weights on their shells which allow them to go under.  Unfortunately, the weights don’t stay on permanently and need replacement from time to time.   There’s some trivia you couldn’t live without.                                                                                                                                                                                                      A field trip to Key West was a must.  We decided to use the Lower Keys bus (public transportation) for our adventure, and were advised that the most common phrase that we would hear on the bus might be “What were you in for?  When did you get out?”  Have to say that the 2 hour ride wasn’t just transportation, it was an adventure.  Key West is Key West-What can I say?  The Admiral and I had been there for the past 2 St. Patrick’s days, but were here a week early this year, so we settled for some tourist things, including a tour of Hemmingway’s house.  We all got our fill of shops, trinkets, and trash, and hopped the last bus before dark back home.                                                                                                                                                                                                   Some other Krogen pals, Steve and Julia (aboard Erben Renewal), and a friend of Jeff & Susie’s who captains a 70 foot Hatteras were docked at Sombrero Key Marina, so we pedaled the 5 or 6 miles there one day for a visit and to scope out the marina for an extended stay next year (maybe).  While there, we heard about a 5K to be held there on the next weekend, benefiting the local food bank.  Hey, we signed up, and came back for the event (and the free hot dogs) the next weekend.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           The Marathon Seafood Festival provided a days’ fun with live music, seafood, and retail booths for local artists and local businesses.                                           We took a tour of Pigeon Key, which was originally the site of a camp for the workers building the 7 Mile Bridge for Henry Flagler in the late 1800’s, and is now a research facility.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Susie’s birthday started with a high volume rendition of the Beatles “Birthday” blasted into their boat by the Bose Dock that I place in their salon door at O’Dark-Thirty, and ended with a Lionfish dinner at Castaways restaurant.                                                                                                                                            Suzanne and Susie finally got their Manatee fix while kayaking in the Mangroves one morning, while my fellow swab, Jeff and I did boat chores.                       Since Pancho’s was mainly a commercial enterprise for a fishing fleet, it was not luxurious, but the price was right.  We were also able to snag some lobsters from Dale, the resident Jack of all Trades one day when the catch was minimal.  When the catch is good, there are no lobsters (or crabs, or fish) for local consumption, as the Chinese swoop in and pay top dollar for every last one up and down the Keys, shipping the live catch home.  Not Judgin’, just sayin’.        The Harbormistress called us one morning literally as we were walking back from the office at Pancho’s, paying for another week.  Oh well, I think the surroundings were more colorful right where we were, thank you very much.                                                                                                                                         Over the 2 weeks, we got plenty of exercise, as Home Depot and the Publix grocery store were about a 6 mile round trip, and both got a couple of visits each.  Visits to La Nina (for Cuban coffee among other goodies), The Stuffed Pig (awesome breakfast), Keys Fisheries (fish store and great lunch), Brutus’ Seafood (fantastic Conch salad to go), and Overseas Bikes were other vendors that we enjoyed.  At the end of our stay, we gave thanks to the powers that be for preserving us as we crossed US1 on our bikes several times a day.

There, caught up!

 

Sunday, the 15th, and time to depart Pancho’s Fuel Dock and Marina on lovely Marathon Key.  We topped off our tanks with 100 gallons of their (overpriced) diesel on the way out, as we wanted full tanks before departing for the Bahamas.  The 2 Girls had a sunny, calm cruise up to Lower Matecumbe Key, where we anchored in 8 feet of water in Matecumbe Bight.  I took the opportunity to get my weights set, as we had recently replaced our 30 year old SCUBA equipment with new rigs (and I’ve put a few pounds of not muscle on since my last dive in salt water).  J & S came over for Chicken curry dinner, courtesy of the Admiral.    In the morning we took “Idyll Time’s” dinghy, “Time Out” for breakfast at “Robbie’s”, an outdoor restaurant on Lower Matecumbe, where we watched touristas feed the Tarpons that were congregating under the docks.  After breakfast, we hiked around Indian Key State Park, before heading through the mangroves and back to the boats.  It was time for “Alizann” to be moving on, so we bid our good friends “adieu”, upped anchor, and headed to Rodriguez Key, where we would meet up with Julia and Steve Erben aboard their 42’ Krogen, “Erben Renewal”.  After meeting them in Solomon’s in the fall, we visited them at their dock in Marathon, where we learned of their plans to head to the Bahamas.  When they heard that we were headed out on the 17th, they arranged to buddy with us, which does make for a nicer trip.  As we neared Rodriguez Key, we recognized the familiar Krogen profile on the horizon.  Anchor down by 1700, we agreed to head out at 0700 the following morning.

 St. Patrick’s Day.  As the fiery red sun broke the horizon over our bow, we were underway to the Molasses Bank, and out of Hawk Channel.  South Bimini was about 11 hours away.  The seas were dead calm, and the wind was non-existent.  “Erben Renewal” fell in behind us.  Steve got a line in the water, and was immediately rewarded with a 10 pound Wahoo.  Throughout the rest of the day, in the 900 foot deep desert, neither of us got a nibble.  Not surprising, as the fish tend to congregate where the depths are changing rapidly.  Still, never hurts to try.  Temperatures in the high 70’s, and lots of sunshine made for a good passage, and the Gulf Stream gave us a good push on our course to the Northeast.  Nearing the sea mount that comprises the Bahamas Bank, the depths changed abruptly from 700 feet to around 40.  We were to clear customs and spend the night at Bimini Sands Marina and Resort.  As we pulled in to the man-made harbor, we were surprised that there were only 4 other boats in the 80 slip marina.  The floating docks are well-maintained, and Donny and his partner were there to catch our lines.  Electricity is billed as a flat fee, and water is metered at $.35/gal.  Not bad, as many marinas out here are charging $.50.  No worries, we make our own water, and the harbor here is very clean.  We had to take a taxi to the airport to clear customs, but they were done for the day, so we were confined to the Girl until we could go over in the morning.  Steve and Julia whipped up a nice salad with grilled Wahoo on top for dinner after sips and apps at our place.  The following morning, Steve and I grabbed a taxi to the airport.  Customs opened at 0800, so we figured 0930 would be safe.  NOT.  We waited on the bench for the agent to arrive (around 0945).  Island time-“Soon, Mon”.  She had misplaced her keys, so was unable to unlock the doors.  After a fair bit of consternation and door pounding, the Immigration officer who had been inside the whole time unlocked the doors, and we did our thing.  $300 later, we had our cruising and fishing permits in hand.  We unloaded the bikes and took the ferry (a covered pontoon boat) over to the booming metropolis of Alicetown on North Bimini.  It only took a couple of hours to ride every road on the island.  The north end of the island was dominated by new construction consisting of a Hilton, 2 marinas, single and multiple unit condos, and a casino.  As we cruised through this development, we were struck by the lack of inhabitants.  The decks around the swimming pools were basically empty, the restaurants and bars the same.  I would guess around 10-15% occupancy.  Same with the marinas.  Maybe it just wasn’t high season yet.  The rest of the island was typical of many tropical islands-lots of poverty and no place to dump the trash for the last couple hundred years.  I have to say that we were surprised, as we expected a more touristy, flashier economy, as our only experience with the Bahamas was in Nassau, and Eleuthera.  We really weren’t disappointed by the lack of tee shirt and ice cream shops, though.  We bought our Bimini Bread from Charlie, who sold out of the kitchen at his home.  After our obligatory stop at the Bimini Big Game Club (Hemmingway fished there), we threw the bikes back on the ferry(?) for a ride back to South Bimini.  Suzanne had read about the shark research center on South Bimini, so we rode our bikes over to check it out.  Staffed by volunteers and various PhD students, the research activities have been ongoing for the past 25 years, funded by grants and contributions.  One of the marine biology students, here on a 5 month stint, was kind enough to give us a guided tour of the facility, including a walk across the sand flats to the shark pens where we saw juvenile Lemon Sharks awaiting release after their being worked up and tagged.  Cool.  Back at Bimini Sands, we found that six or eight other boats had come in, including two sailing catamarans with 35 Spring breakers from Ohio State on board.  Lots of sun, hormones, music and alcohol really livened up our little neighborhood.  Too bad they weren’t having any fun.  Good neighbors, they shut things down around 2200.  Nice, as we were leaving for the Berry’s at 0700 the following morning.

Thursday, the 19th, and “Alizann” with “Erben Renewal” following are off the dock at 0730.  The forecast is for calm winds, and seas, and as the sun rises lazily over the horizon, it looks like the weatherman got it right.  Our plan is to head to the Isaacs, which are basically a couple of coral rocks sticking out of the sea, and do some snorkeling for lobster.  The trip out is uneventful, sunny skies and calm seas.  We get the hook down at Middle Isaac, and find a pretty fast current, maybe a knot or so.  Steve splashes their dinghy, and comes over to get us.  We’re not finding a whole lot in the way of lobsters, and the current makes swimming difficult so we opt to push on a little further towards the Berry’s.  Six or eight miles East, there is a spot that shows only five meters of depth.  Even though there is no shelter, the forecast looks good, so we’ll spend the night there.  We get a feel for just how accurate (or not) the charts are when we spend a half hour or so crisscrossing 30’-40’ depths looking for the shallow area to anchor on.  17’ looked pretty good, and there was enough light to see the bottom, so the Admiral maneuvered us over a patch of sand amidst the coral to drop our hook.  Bullseye!  Got a good grab, swam the anchor chain just to make sure, and then it was time for sips and dinner.  We opened a bottle of “Ecluse” Zinfandel, and marveled at the 360 degree view of nothing but horizon-no land in sight.  After the sun went down as a ball of fire, we laid on the deck, spotting orbiting satellites and a few “shooting stars”.  The hook was up by 0730 after a super peaceful night, and we fished the dropoff during the rest of the morning.  Our first hookup was a 30” Mahi, which the Admiral filleted on the spot after I dispatched it with a rubber mallet.  Our next 6 were Barracuda ranging from 2 1/2 –almost 4 feet.  After hooking the last one in a way which didn’t allow hook removal and live release, we called it a day on the fishing program.  Steve got lots of Cuda’s too, along with a 3’ King Mackerel.  On our way into Great Harbor, on Great Harbor Cay, so gotta go.

 -Later

P.S. I’ll fill in the Marathon blanks in a little bit

Hola Mi Amigos,

The trip to Little Shark River was set against some pretty bizarre meteorological conditions.  Seas were flat calm, and it was a sunny 72 degrees around our little ships, while dark gray fog banks loomed all around us.  As we monitored our VHF radios, we found that other vessels were not as fortunate.  Several sailboats were dropping anchor due to the poor visibility, while other captains were talking about the dense fog.  As we entered the river, wisps were blowing in from the Gulf.  The anchor bit on the first try, but “Idyll Time’s” kept skipping across the bottom.  Jeff moved 150 yards upriver from us, and their hook grabbed right away.  Both boats played out plenty of chain, as the current was running around 2 knots, and would be reversing when the tide ran out in 7 more hours.  As if on cue, the dense fog rolled in.  Who’da thunk that we’d be in Florida in the middle of the afternoon having to sound our fog horns?  When it cleared a few hours later, there were 6 or 8 sailboats anchored in a bunch about ¾ of a mile downstream from us, where before there were none.  During the foggy afternoon, I had a chance to search out the origin of the clacketyclackin’ generator PTO.  Nuthin’ simple, looked like it was coming from the BRAND NEW clutch.  No cell phone service, so I shot a text via satellite to the Jedi Master of all things boat, Scottie, just to give him something to think about for the next few days.  It’s still working, albeit noisily, so there’s no way I’m taking it apart as it’s really not user serviceable.  I figured that if it cacked, I would drop the clutch and pump off, and still be able to use the generator.  As our daughter, Alison, says “Dad, what do you expect?  It’s a boat”.

When Jeff, Susie, Suz and I are cruising together, we usually pool our resources and marshall our efforts for dinners.  It was Susie’s night to shine, so she whipped up a chicken, black bean, cheese, tortilla, and other Mexican goodness casserole.  Suz contributed rice, fresh fruit salad, and fresh made guacamole.  Cervesas washed it all down.  The next day, it was time for a little exploring.  The fast current made kayaking inadvisable, so we cruised up the river for a few miles in the tenders, “Time Out” and “White Star”.  Along the way, we scoped out other anchorages for potential future trips.  Suzanne’s turn- cheeseburgers, corn on the cob, and homemade strawberry shortcake, accompanied by Susie’s spinach artichoke pasta salad were on the menu.  Losing weight may be off the program for a bit.  The third day in Shark was just spent boatdinkin’, fishin’ and readin’.  Jeff, (I think of him as the McGyver of boats) had cobbled a fix for a small hydraulic leak, but came over for a look at our hydraulic spares, and found a “just right” plug in case he had to go to “Plan B”.  That evening, it was garbage can dinner (empty out all leftovers) at Jeff and Susie’s and movie night at our place.  The mosquitoes were so thick outside that there would be at least five biting you at the same time.  Unlike the B-52’s that are endemic to the upper Great Lakes, you can’t even feel these little guys land.  Actually, I don’t think that they land on their feet, they just Kamikazee in and start drilling immediately.  A welt comes up before they’re even done.  (Yes, I was impressed).  I couldn’t imagine being on a boat with no screens, having to close the hatches on a hot, humid night to keep out the bugses.

After watching 3 sets of boats come and go in our little slice of heaven, this morning it was our turn.  Anchors up by 0630, we were on our way to Marathon, in the Keys.  It was a cloudy, 63 degree morning after several squalls had come through late last night.  The sun has been trying to pop out through the thin overcast all morning, and at 1045 it’s 67 degrees.  I can’t get over the fact that we’re five miles offshore, and it’s only 9.6’ deep.  The bottoms’ pretty much featureless, and we’ve seen no fishes on the finder.  We should be in Marathon by 1230, so I’ll sign off for now.  Hopefully, we’ll have some interweb soon, and be able to shoot a few logs up into space and get caught up.

-Later

Good Morning,

OMG!  What a shock.  When we walk over to the beach, instead of miles of unspoiled sand, we’re greeted by wall to wall bodies, lots of competing music and small boats anchored just yards off the shore.  I’m thinkin’ that the scenery will be better in a few weeks when college Spring break season starts-just sayin’.  No matter, we still got three miles or so in.  Back at the Inn, we opt for an early dinner and are pleasantly surprised.  The conch chowder, ceviche, and crab stuffed grouper is excellent.  Bonus is that we ordered at 1625.  Dinner prices (around 80% more) for the same items started at 1630.  Hey-fixed income.

Monday morning, and we’re off the dock at 0750.  As we exit Estero Bay, we find that the channel marker that we noticed was off station on our way in was still not in its’ proper position, but we saw the buoy tender getting under way as we passed the station.  We had called it in to the Coast Guard the previous day.  A cloudy, cool five hours later we were entering Gordon Pass, the inlet leading to Naples.  Online reports had shoaling in the channel, but we saw deep water all the way in.  Naples Bay was lined with house after beautiful house.  Many looked like small hotels.  After we docked, we were chattin’ it up with the Harbormaster, Frank, who informed us that most of these homes were relatively new, being built on the sites of knocked down older places.  He told us of a home that was purchased a few years back for $8.5M, and was knocked down in order to build a new place for $13M-go figure.  The marina is directly below the flight path to Naples airport, and there is a constant parade of private aircraft (most of them jets) flying in and out.  While I’m referencing LOTS of people with LOTS of money, let me say a few words about the cars here.  The Audis, Landrovers, Jags, and Benzs are the Chevrolets of Naples.  Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Bentleys are evident in full force.  Restaurants are fully booked every night of the week.  Based on appearances here, you would think that the economy was booming-hope this is an omen of things to come.

We had planned on staying in Naples for a week, but for several reasons, this ballooned into two.  We visited with four different sets of friends, and did some heavy provisioning and repairs.

That was the short Naples story.  Here’s the longer one.  The day that we arrived, we rode our bikes the 4 miles to Gulf Shores Marine Supply to pick up a spare water pump for our generator that we had ordered a couple of weeks previously.  True to his word, Ken had the pump ready and waiting when the Admiral and I arrived.  The ride up and back on Tamiami Trail, a 4 lane highway, was quite exciting and fraught with danger (translation-lots of REALLY old drivers).  The week in Naples called for several more trips down this “corridor of death” with no undue results.  The following day, we met up with our dear friends Dick and Jan (see horrendous automobile accident-Captains log May 2014) who winter here.  We spent the afternoon and evening with them at their home in Bonita Springs, planning to return for a few more days.  Unfortunately, that never happened, as they were having some family issues which extended through the week.  Your kids may grow up, but they’re always your kids.  We did get to see them towards the end of the week, when they came in to eat with us.  During the week, we had a chance to catch up with 3 other couples, friends that live in Naples, catch up, and have some pretty good meals. Bleau Provence is an elegant spot for an evening of French cuisine.  The Dock provided a waterside venue with a funky atmosphere and pretty good bar food.  Avenue 5 featured nouveau cuisine in a modern setting in the heart of town.  Yabba, although downtown, had an airy porch and a nice, semi elegant lunch menu.  Campiello, also in town, had both indoor and outdoor tables, and featured a more traditional menu with an emphasis on red meats.  The bar there is also a great place to sit and people watch in the afternoon.  The only eatery that I would have to give a mediocre endorsement to was LaMoorege, a Peruvian-themed restaurant in the “suburbs”.   We took care of our provisioning by renting a car for a day (no good Samaritans on the dock here) and running to Publix, ABC Liquor, West Marine, Lowe’s, Staples, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and Sears following an early morning stop at Skillet’s (one of my favorite breakfast joints).  The repair of the week was the air conditioning unit in our stateroom.  After taking apart the closet where the air handler is located, and multiple calls for tech support, the diagnosis fell to a faulty circuit board.  Cruise Cool, a local repair company, had one in stock-bonus.  Fred, the owner, brought one out first thing in the morning, and offered to install it.  Even though I had replaced one in another unit a few months earlier without any difficulty, we figured that boosting the local economy couldn’t hurt.  Voila!  Cool air.

February 21st, Saturday morning.  Farmer’s market day.  This time, we grabbed our bikes AND backpacks to hit the farmers’ market.  It was departure day, so our provisioning list was pretty flush with fresh fruits and veggies.  Our mission  a success, the packs were brimming within the hour.  The Admiral has been freshening up her herb garden, so I had a parsley plant sticking out of the top of my pack, drawing some interesting looks.  Jeff and Susie aboard “Idle Time” had left Cape Coral earlier in the morning, and were passing Naples around noon, at which time we would join them for a short cruise to Marco Island where we would spend the night on the hook.  We have been looking for some small rugs for the Galley, and earlier in the week, I had spotted a nice Oriental in town, so we decided to grab it on consignment and try it on for size.  The color and design were right, the 8’ length was perfect, but the 23” width was a smidge large.  Oh well, half the fun is in the hunt.  By 1242, the tide was up, and we were no longer sitting on the bottom-time to go.  Once out in the Gulf, and clear of the weekend boat follies, we found “I. T.” to be 3.8 miles astern.  Cruising over a 1 foot chop, the 2 ½ hour run to Marco was a joy.  Our anchorage, Smokehouse Bay”, was anything but wilderness, but the beautiful homes on the way in and around the bay made for some nice sightseeing.  After the hooks were down, plans were made for sundowners at our place.  Soon after, a Krogen Manatee rolled in, and dropped their anchor right behind us.  After we introduced ourselves, Wally and Darcy joined us for conversation and sips after Jeff & Susie picked them up on their way over.  W & D had purchased their previously enjoyed boat in 2014, and had cruised a thousand miles or so on the Intracoastal Waterway, but their day on the Gulf travelling to Marco was their first time on “big water”.  They were pretty geeked.  Always fun to make new friends.

Since there were some pretty skinny spots on the way in, an 0705 departure played the tide to give us a comfortable margin between the bottom and our keels during our departure.  Cloudy, 65 degree temperature and minimal seas made for an enjoyable 35 mile trip to the Thousand Islands in Everglades National Park.  Boy, it was just like old times to be buddy boating with J & S again.  Old pals are a lot like cousins that you seldom see-a few minutes, and it’s like you were never away from each other.  By 1252, we had shot down the hooks in Russell Pass, the kayaks were in the water, and we were exploring the labarynthine Mangrove swamps, just as the sun made its’ appearance.  After sips, Suzanne and Susie fattened Jeff and I up with a gourmet meal of crabcakes, stuffed Portobello mushrooms, Asian slaw, and a citrus salad.  Peanut M&M’s for desert?-died and gone to heaven.  The next morning, we took the tenders on a 5 mile expedition up the river to Everglades City, home of the “historical Rod and Gun Club”.  This little piece of an era gone by sits on the river, with a screened porch overlooking the waterway.  Built in the 1800, the Club is now public, but boasts guests including past presidents, movie stars, and Earnest Hemmingway (where didn’t he hunt or fish?).  The dark, mahogany walls are adorned with trophies from past hunts and fishing trips, as well as antique guns and fishing paraphernalia.  Lunch is at Triad seafood, which has a porch overlooking some pretty rough commercial fishing boats, and trash-strewn docks-sounds good, huh?  The 4 Collier County Sheriff’s cruisers parked out front gave us a clue that this might be the place for chow, and we didn’t go wrong.  Seafood, fresh, fresh, fresh and tasty.  On our way back to the Girls, our decision to take the dinghies up was validated by a cruiser running aground in the middle of the channel.  We had seen him go on while we were at the ranger’s station, and fortunately he was off by the time that we passed him 20 minutes later after plowing through a hundred feet of mud, exhaust smoking to beat the band.  Even though Suz and I had seen Manatees up at the Rod and Gun Club on previous trips, we were still “no joy” on them this voyage.  (Them’s that know say that the water’s just too cold yet).  We’ll keep hoping and looking.

Today, the 24th, is a foggy 65 degrees when we up anchors at 0654 to take advantage of the tide.  During our 36 mile trek to Little Shark River, our last stop before Marathon Key, we see little wild life on the surface, or our fish finder.  We traversed sandy flats that were pretty much devoid of anything but crab pots.  I’m wondering what in the heck they do for food.  The fog lifted and the sun came out, allowing Suz and I to sit on the bow with the autopilot remote in hand, while catching some rays.  The fog was all around us, as evidenced by other boats’ conversations on the VHF, but we stayed in a little hole of sunshine all the way to Little Shark.  20 minutes later, the fog rolled in, and here we sit (fog in Florida-Really?)  Even with the fog, it’s quite bright, ‘cause the clouds are probably only a hundred feet or so thick, but there is a 10 knot breeze, so it’s cool.  Good time to hunker down and get some chores done.  The infamous clutch on the generator started making some clickety clack yesterday, so I’ll need to take a lookee before we run it again.  It’s a boat, right?  The Admiral’s doing her Betsy Ross thing, hand sewing some Textilene with a sail needle and some whipping twine to make a bag for our dinghy “White Star’s” anchor.    It still tickles us when dirt dwellers ask us “What do you do all day”?

-Later

Bon Jour,

February 5th at Pelican Bay, Costa Cayo State Park.  We had a comfortable evening, although there was a pretty stiff breeze and lots of thunderstorms rolling through.  The anchor held well, and we made some electricity with the pair of wind generators.  Even though it was windy with showers blowing through in the morning, the radar looked like we were done with the worst of it, so we dropped the dink and headed to shore.  Most of Cayo Costa (LaCosta Island) is State Park, and we looked forward to some hiking there.  When we got to shore there were about 20 campers huddled under the shelter waiting for the ferry to bring them back to the mainland and dry clothes. I like boat camping.  As we started across the island, several mini squalls blew through on a 20 knot breeze.  The beach on the Gulf side of the island was deserted, and the wind was blowing the mist sideways.  We took the trail paralleling the beach and walked North past 8 or 10 little one room shacks with screened porches that could be rented by the day or week.  Raised off the ground, they looked preferable to spending a rainy night in a tent.  By the end of the day, we had pretty much hiked every trail that the park had to offer, the sun had come out and the wind died down.  We explored our bay in the tender while having a few sips, looking for manatees in a small cove that was supposedly infested with them-no joy.

The following day, we took the tender over to Cabbage Key, 2 miles distant, to have lunch at the bar.  It was purportedly the inspiration for Jimmy Buffett’s tune, “Cheeseburger in Paradise”.  The cheeseburgers weren’t that great, but it was a colorful joint, being wallpapered with dollar bills-thousands of them.  The story goes that when fishermen headed out in the morning, they would tape a dollar bill to the wall to guarantee a cold beer waiting upon their return.  Don’t know if it’s true, but over the years, everyone and their brother have contributed to the décor (estimates are in the tens of thousands of $$).  This place has the “Soggy Dollar” on Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands beat, hands down.  Sunny and 65 degrees, we took a short walk on the trails there, and a slow boat ride back to the Girl.  The past few days of exploration of our bay in the tender begged the question, “How did we get in here without bumping the bottom?”  We resolved to leave at high tide when departing the following day. 

Saturday morning, and the sun was out in full force, although it was still pretty windy.  High tide wasn’t until around 1500, so we took the tender, “White Star” across the Boca Grande pass the 4 or 5 miles north to Boca on Gasparilla Island to see how the other half lived.  We had a fun time eating lunch at “The Pink Elephant” restaurant, cruising the shops and walking the beach doing the tourist thing.  Back to the boat by 1430, we were anchor up and tippy-toeing out of the anchorage by 1451.  No bumps, plenty of water going out.  Heading through the channel, you literally have “one foot on the beach”-hundreds of yards of SHALLOW water on one side, ten yards away from the beach on the other.  We didn’t have far to go, as our plan had us anchoring just off the Intracoastal in the lee of Useppa Island, a scant 2 miles away, putting us in position for our run to Fort Myer’s Beach the following day.  We dropped the hook a hundred yards or so from an anchored sailboat, and were joined by 2 others before sundown.

By 0715 on Sunday, we were anchor up and on our way to Fort Myer’s Beach.  Wow, what a difference the day of the week makes.  As we neared F.M.B., the boat traffic increased exponentially, and the lack of boating etiquette with it.  The Admiral called ahead to the Matanzas Inn folks who run the mooring balls, and found that we were right on the edge as far the capacity of the balls regarding size went.  They were also quite far from town so we opted to stay at their dock.  Luckily, they had one space that could accommodate the Girl.  Communicating with the young lady (sounded Eastern European) was difficult, but with the help of Google Earth, we were able to spot the wall “Right next to the orange umbrellas”.  She assured us that it was 8’ deep next to the wall, but motoring in with a 2 knot current, and the fathometer heading south of 6’, we had our doubts.  Just as we started to block out the sun for all the folks eating their lunch under the aforementioned orange umbrellas, a guy runs out and yells to us (he could have spoken in a normal voice-we were that close) that he’s pretty sure that we’re supposed to be at the end of the face dock next to the channel.  We back out, sending whorls of mud up from the bottom, and head to the face, where Myriam is standing between 2 blue boats in her blue jeans and blue polo shirt, ready to catch our lines.  On our way up to her office at the Matanzas Inn, where she doubles as the receptionist, we discuss the finer points of giving directions to the dock.  Anyway, no harm no foul.  The rent’s paid by noon, so we have the rest of the day to explore.

-A plus tard

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