Desoto Park to Punta Gorda

     After delivering Jennifer to shore in the dingy we set off for Punta Gorda. leaving an early morning dew covered canopy of pines and mangroves on Desoto Point we turned east into a golden rising morning sun. Tampa Bay was lake -like smooth but because it was calling for 2 to 3 foot seas on the outside we decided to take the intracoastal route on the inside.

                                                                             
                                                        Sunshine SkyWay Bridge                                
                                                                              
       As we turned south into the ICW we came astern of a large trawler named "Passing Gas"  They had been cruising this area for a number of years and gave us a tip on getting fuel in  Fort Myers.  Fifty cents a gallon cheaper at the shrimp dock if we pay cash.  Figuring we will need approximately 500 gallons, we could save $250..a no brainer if we can find the shrimp docks!
     Beautiful blue sky with wisps of thin white clouds accentuated the Caribbean blue water as we passed through mangroves and by expansive waterfront homes in this part of the intracoastal.

                                                                                 

      Just as I was thinking what a pleasant trip this was, we encountered our first bridge. A mere 10 minute delay and we carried on.....to the next bridge.....and the next bridge....and... oh well, you get the idea....13 bridges in all!  Finally, the last bridge and we entered Charlotte Harbour Bay.  A reserved slip was waiting for us at Laishley Point in Punta Gorda and not wanting to arrive in the dark to navigate under the bridges into the marina we opened Doc's Holiday up, crossing this rather expansive bay.  16.5 knots easily on plane and it negated the rolling effect of the quartering sea that was causing us to roll somewhat at our normal cruising speed of 9 knots.

                                                                               

                                                                               
                                                                                
     We slowly entered the marina with a 15 knot wind pushing us toward the slip (and the other boats!) Unable to back the boat into the concrete slip because of the wind and my inability to see either of Doc's Holiday's aft corners, I turned the boat around and nosed her into the slip.  The full time slip tenants standing on the bow of their boats seemed much relieved that their boats didn't get scratched but rather than gawking they might have come over to help us get the boat tied down. The wind and fetch was pushing us away from the dock.  Fortunately, Jennifer met us at the dock and was able to cleat off a spring line and help us secure the boat in this very rocky-roly slip. 
     Eighty-two miles and 13 bridge openings....Why? you ask.  Why didn't you slow down, stop and smell the roses.  Why didn't we stop at beautiful Venice? (We could see why it was named Venice as the houses were on caribbean blue canals all along the waterway.) Because, after visiting the Naval Air Museum in Pensacola, I wanted to see the Blue Angels air show and they were performing at the Punta Gorda airport tomorrow.

Venice

                                                                            
                                 
       If I keep this schedule up, I may be the only one travelling on this boat all the way to Maine!
       We were worried when Jennifer informed us that she had difficulty finding a parking spot because there was a wedding in progress at the marina.  It was our good fortune to be there for this wedding. An hour after dark our dog Spencer and I were relaxing on the upper deck enjoying our cocktail, when the sky exploded with a spectacular display of fireworks being ignited not more than 100 yards from our slip.
      We both jumped and Spencer ran over to the hatch and jumped (read fell) down the stairs to the lower helm.  Scared but not injured, he ran to his mother and must have wimpered to her that I was to blame for not holding on to him tighter, because thats what I heard....for the rest of the night! Ugh! Wimpy rat!! Who cared that I had to go change my underwear!

Junior Ranger

     Tom and Mildred returned to Texas today.  I understood their leaving (it became apparent that two cooks in the kitchen long term just wouldn't work.) Still, I was  disappointed that they couldn't continue the adventure with us.  They have been invaluable in getting Doc's Holiday to Florida and we owe them our heartfelt thanks for their help and the fond memories established during the trip. I am sure their cat "Chewy" was glad to get off the boat so his daily sea-sickness and vomiting would abate.  Our dog "Spencer" told me he would not miss being cornered by Chewey and getting daily swipes from Chewey when he stole the cat food.

                                                  Anchorage at Fort Desota State Park                                         

                                                                              
     Cameron, our Grandson and  his mother Jennifer, arrived late in the evening.  He was all smartly dressed in his new Boy Scout shirt and was anxious to spend a night sleeping on the boat. He was surprised that we had furniture on the boat!  I guess living on a boat is "really cool" to a 9 year old boy. (Hmmm its still really cool to "an elderly" as my kids refer to anybody over the age of 60!)
     Jennifer had to go in to Tampa the next morning since our wi fi connection wasn't fast enough and she was used to using two computers at the same time to do her real estate closures (and foreclosures!)

                                                                           

     Cameron was up and ready to explore Fort Desoto Park, but first he wanted to dingy to the beach for a swim.  He couldn't get past his knees in the water! He changed his mind. "Its freezing. I'm not going in!" he said.
      We returned to the boat than headed in the dingy to the park reception centre.  On arrival we spoke with a park ranger who asked Cameron if he wanted to become a Junior Ranger.  A hearty "YES!" was his answer and he was given a book and a number of tasks to complete while we toured the live encounters.  He learned about the conquistador, Desoto and his march through Florida and Texas and how the Spanish killed and tortured the native Indians.  We walked the three mile nature trail through the mangroves, along the coastal shore, and through the pines taking compass readings at specified locations.  Returning to the welcome centre, Cameron was met by a Park Ranger.  She reviewed the book he had completed and asked questions about  his exploration of the park.  Questions like, "What did you see at different points? What did you smell? What did you learn about the conquistadors armour and weapons?  All questions Cameron answered and with a lengthy "repeat after me" induction oath, finally received his goal...a Junior Rangers Badge.

                                                   Junior Ranger Oath                                                                                

     It was a hot trek around the park and Cameron wanted to jump off the boat for a swim.  I put a line out with a floating cushion tied to it to keep the line up on the water so he would have something to hang on to if he got tired.
 He put his foot in. "Its freezing. I'm not going in!" he squelled.  Finally with lots of coaxing and pretending I was going to jump in, he jumped in and was swimming like a fish (with a life jacket on) and giggling he said, "Its not that cold papa come on in." (lying little rug rat!)

                                                                                  
                                                                               

     All in all, we had a great day barbecuing hot dogs and hamburgers and playing with Cameron.  He had to go with his father for the rest of the weekend so we took him to shore and with hugs and kisses said goodbye. 
     This is cruising.

Tarpon Springs and the Sponge Docks

                                                                                                                                                                  
       Reluctantly we left Caladesi Island to anchor out just 2 miles away off the Town of Dunedin.  Our plan was to dingy into the municipal dock and catch the Trolley to spend the day exploring Tarpon Springs.  All ready to leave, we fired up the generator to power up the davit and lift the dingy into the water.  "What the hell is that sound," I asked.
 "There's something wrong with your generator," yelled the Admiral from the state room.
 "Oh! Oh! That doesn't sound good remarked Mildred.
      I immediately shut it off and went down into "the hole" to investigate.  Nothing seemed out of place so we kicked it over again.  No water coming out the exhaust. High pitched squealing as the fan belt turned over and moved all the pulley's....except the impeller pump. 
"Damn, the impeller is shot," Tom said with a smile on his face.  "I'll stay and fix it while y'all go and enjoy yourself in town." 
      At least we were smart enough when putting in our inverter to make sure a plug on the upper deck was hot.  Now we just ran power to the davit, put the dingy in and waved goodbye to Tom as we headed in to catch the trolley.
     First task was to tie the dingy up on an angle so that it wouldn't drift into the multiple oysters growing on the poles.  The sharp oysters would shred the Hypalon rigid inflatable in seconds.  I cursed as the rope in the dingy disintegrated in my hand and broke when I tried to position the dingy.  Back to the boat for a good rope finally securing the boat so that it stayed away from the oysters.
      Next stop was the open air dock bar for some immediate frustration treatment... several ice cold frosty beers. (Colorado bull dogs for Mildred!)  Then, a bus ride for the 13 mile trip to experience the essence of the Tarpon Springs sponge docks.

                                                                          

     Greek sponge fishermen settled here many years ago and eeked out an existence diving for and supplying the world with sea sponges.  Now, not only do they still make money from harvesting the sponges and selling them around the world but they have made an entire tourist industry around this endeavour with live and recorded displays of how sponge fishing has developed over the years.  They have maintained their Greek culture with not only imported souvenirs from Greece but have capitalized on their heritage of Greek culture, music and  food. These we were about to savour but we had our own rituals to endure first.  Shopping. (Ugh!)  So, I followed the girls in and out of numerous quaint shops and pressed them on occasion to walk the dock, until I could  stand it no more! (What is wrong with the female mind that makes them go into store after store picking things up, turning them around, commenting on how expensive these things are and how they could get them cheaper some place else....over, and over, and over again!  Girls, its the same crap in each store!)...ya, I know I'm still  an !@#$% (rhymes with mole!... so don't take me anymore, eh!) I could now understand why Tom was smiling when there was something he could stay and fix on the boat.

                                                                              

     The interesting sights to me, were the boats.  Some colorful.  Some serious working boats equipped with compressors and large hoses that supplied the divers (wearing their large round brass head gear and thick dive suits) with the needed air they required to work for hours at 20 to 50 feet harvesting the sponges.

                                                                             
                                                                                   

     Finally, we get to Hellas Greek Restaurant..now we would get to experience a modicum of Greek culture. Waiters with thick Greek accents,Greek music playing in the background, sangria, Greek salad, gyros, but first a true Greek delicacy, an appetizer of grilled octopus.  We ordered and I went to the rest room to wash my hands before eating. When I returned to the table I wondered about the grinning expression on Beth's face as I sat down, until I looked down on the plate to see 3 large curved tentacles nicely placed and accentuated by lemon slices on each side of the plate.  They appeared to be well cooked as the tiny suckers on each tentacle were blackened.   Beth gagged as I cut into the firm meat and began to chew... "Doesn't taste like chicken," I commented.  Actually it didn't have much taste except for the garlic olive oil dressing drizzled on top.  The texture was firm and slightly rubbery but the suckers were definitely crisp.   I looked into Beth's contorted face when she occasionally looked in my direction. I couldn't help myself...I feigned a slight gag commenting  on how I thought a sucker had gotten stuck to the roof of my mouth, much like a popcorn kernel would! Bless her little heart. She didn't leave the table.  I could hardly wait to take some of this back to Tom!

                                                                       
                                                                        Yummy!!!          

     Mildred and I giggled as we watched Tom jump up and down in anticipation of the surprise we were heating up in the microwave for him.  He sat down in the chair with knife and fork in hand as we presented him with his meal.  Words cannot describe his reaction!  "What the hell is that!" he blurted, then sat silent for a moment staring at his plate.  He shuddered and began rubbing his arms.  "Good god!" he muttered. " My skin is crawling!"
      Mildred and I broke out into hysterical laughter...so hard tears were rolling down my face and poor Mildred had trouble controlling her bladder. He was flabbergasted that I had eaten one leg and that Mildred had even sampled the meat.

                                             
                                                                     "What is it??"                        

                                  
                                                                         OMG!   
                                                                                 

                                                                          
                                                        "My skin is crawling!"                     

    A soft rain began to fall as we laughed at the days experiences.  The boat gently swayed at anchor as we shut off the lights and went to bed.  This would be one of those days we would joke about for a long time.  This is cruising.
    
    
    

   

     I paced the dock.  After arguing all morning, there was no changing Beth's mind. We would go when the fog lifted.  I resigned myself to the fact that we wouldn't be arriving in daylight and surprisingly I was now anxious to get underway, saying "We have radar and we can see 2 buoys away.  Lets go!"  No. We would wait for the fog to lift. 
     The fog began to lift around 10 am.  We said good bye to Jennifer and the dog Spencer, untied from the dock and glided out into the river, warm sun on our faces and not a whisper of a breeze.  We rounded Dog Island into Government cut and there it lay, sparkling in the morning sun and smooth as glass, the Gulf of Mexico.  Wha Hoo! My apprehension began to abate.  Maybe this would be a smooth trip. Maybe I wouldn't suffer from "mal de Mer." Maybe we wouldn't have any problems on this trip.  After all, Tom stated," This is the first time everything has been fixed on this boat. There is nothing left to do."
      I headed the boat due east.  We were told that there was a west to east current  27 miles off shore and that if we headed 16 miles east we would be outside the current and enjoy an even smoother ride. Plus if a storm were to brew up unexpectedly we would be closer to some safe harbours on the west coast of Florida.  We travelled east to Buoy #26 than headed on a direct plot to Anclote Key.  We should arrive around 3 am.

                                      
                                         Dog Island.  Last of the visible land for 20 hours!                                      

     It was smooth sailing. The sun was warm, the water glistening with a cool breeze coming through the open windows and doors.  We all revelled in our good fortune to be able to travel in a beautiful boat with such fantastic weather.  Smooth as silk, until the wind started to freshen in the afternoon. Not bad. No spray over the windows like we experienced in Mississippi Sound.  Just repetitive. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down....ad nauseum. It started slowly as it usually does.  Just a little pressure behind the eyes and a little dizziness, but as the relentless motion of the boat persisted the dizziness increased to the point where I finally turned over the helm to Beth and opted for the one thing that always seemed to help.  Ah! He's going for the gravol or some kind of anti-nausea medication, your thinking.  Not! I have learned after being on my friend, Terry Winchester's, boat that the first treatment for sea sickness isn't medication, food, ginger or looking at the horizon...it is...a lazy-boy chair!  Laugh if you want but it works for me, at least for as long as I am stretched out in the chair.  I did have to get up and take the swinging picture and plaque off the walls as the repetitive drumming against the wall was irritating, but for the most part the nausea and dizziness abated as I reclined in the soft shock absorbing lazy boy.

                                                                                  
                                                       Treatment for Mal De Mer!

     Within a couple of hours I was back up at the helm watching the sun settle in the west and the veil of night start to envelope us.  Or should I say cloak us, because it got black! We turned down all the instruments to their glowing red night mode in an attempt to see out the helm window but it was useless.  We had to keep the chart plotter and radar on to make sure we were on course and not going to run into another boat or obstacle, but there was no way we could see if there were any small objects or debris in the water we might strike!  It began to wear on me. It was like driving a car in an open field with a black cover over the windshield.  You could look out the side doors and see the water  rushing past, lit up by what little starlight there was,  but it was pure blackness out the front window.  I thought,  "This must be what it was like for the astronauts headed into deep space." Than the beginnings of doubt started. What the hell would happen if there was a floating container lost from a ship, lying out there in front of us!  What if we hit it and put a whole in the boat!  How awful must it have been for those poor people who have sunk and floated in the water for days before getting eaten by a shark..(ps it didn't help that I had just read in soundings magazine about a 50 foot Chris Craft that sank after hitting some debris in the water crossing the gulf stream on the way to Bimini. They were travelling the same speed we were going!)
      The fear began to grow and feed on itself....I had enough.  If we were going to sink, I was going to be in a position I enjoyed---back to the supine position.  Beth, Tom and Mildred could navigate in the blackness for a while..I was going to take a nap! I guess that's what ageing does to a person.  Five years ago I would have had a couple of shots of whiskey yelled "Damn the torpedoes" and said "Full steam ahead".  Now, I take a nap!  UGH!
     When I got back up we were just a couple hours from Anclote Key.  I checked the course made an adjustment and decided to slow the boat down in anticipation of the crab pots.  Mildred was the first to spot one--a mere 10 feet from the side of the boat!  We slowed to an idle.  All hands on deck with flashlights (never thought to fix the spot light!) as we idled through the minefield of crab traps still a good 10 miles off shore!  It was slow going but we managed to avoid the traps until....the flashlights died out!  @#$%&!~+* that's it! We stopped. We threw out the anchor and had a rolly night on the hook. Just the kind of motion that makes me puke!  Sooo rather than puke I used my now fully established anti-nausea protocol and went to bed.   When the daylight started to emerge I jumped out of bed and rushed to the helm where I encountered a very bleary eyed Admiral.
 "Why didn't you lie down?" I asked.
 "I sent everyone else to bed!" she gruffed.  "Someone had to keep watch!"
 As she sauntered off to bed, I meekly responded "You could have woke me up." 
"Yea, right !@#$  (I think it rhymed with mole!). 
     Tom and Mildred responded to the motors lighting up and we were now able to see the mine field of crab pots.  "Man we didn't lay this many mines in any one area when I was in the war!" remarked Tom.  With the sun coming up over the horizon we easily managed to avoid the crab pots and cruised in to Anclote Key. 
     Since the majority of us were refreshed (not a lot of laughs to the admiral, ugh!) we decided to go on to Caladesi Island after the park rangers informed us that our 50 foot boat would have enough depth at low tied to stay at the T-dock.   Getting into this national park is tricky.  After coming through the Dunedin draw bridge we had to take a hard turn to the west then turn to 212 deg on the compass at marker 14...and it was "skinny water" soo... of course we got out of the channel and stirred up some mud.  Once back in the channel we followed another boat into the marina and had 3.5 feet of water below our props the whole way to the floating dock.

                                                                           
                                                            Dunedin Draw Bridge  

       Caladesi Island Park and Beach was voted #1 best beach in Florida by Doc. Beach in 2008.  It is a natural beach, meaning everything is left in place.  The sand is not groomed daily (although trash left by those visitors(ignorant enough to not pick up after themselves) is picked up by the park rangers.) Thus, it is a great beach for sea shell pickers....like the Admiral!  (finally a smile on her face!) Kept in its natural state you can start walking through ancient live oak trees, virgin slash pine, coastal hammock community and wind up walking through prickly pear cactus with tropical species of plants surrounding Cat's eye Pond. Wading birds (Ibis, herons and egrets) and Gopher turtles abound. The beach is a young dune system with sea oats, panic grass beach croton and ink berry.
                                                                               

                                                                               
                                                           Hard to take - not!                                      
 
    

     As my 24 hour call was ending; my apprehension was growing.  Even though there was no work to do, I just laid in the bed unable to fall asleep, my mind inundated with recent events.  It wasn't just the bad cases of the preceding twenty-four hours, the child that had a coin stuck in her windpipe, the elderly man that had to have a craniotomy for evacuation of a blood clot, or the three teenage boys that we operated on for gun shot wounds received in a drug deal gone bad. It was my good friend James. He  had just left the hospital and I was certain that he would be given the bad news that he had lung cancer. His illness caused the dormant thoughts to resurface. For some time now I had been plagued with the same old grumbling thoughts, "After all these years of dedicated work, raising kids and putting up with the stress and drudgery of every day routine, was this how it was supposed to end?  Work every day until you get sick and can't do anything other than visit doctors, take pills and wait for the end!  I say, " bullshit!"   As apprehensive (read scared) as I was to do an open water night crossing, I was going to do it.  After all as Bob Bitchin the publisher of Latts and Atts puts it,  "The only difference between an adventure and an ordeal is attitude."  Great, all I had to do was get a little attitude.  Most of my friends and relatives think I have too much attitude, but is it enough to get me through something I am terrified of doing?
     I sat with my nose against the window of the airplane looking down on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.  Could I see any waves or white caps from this height? No. Probably too high.  I could barely make out the rivulets extending out on the Mississippi Delta.  At least it was a clear day.  The plane started its descent into Tampa and as I raised out of my seat to look directly down on the water there it was,  floating in a bath of royal blue water, a crooked curved finger of white sand semi-circling an emerald green lagoon. Attached to the finger was a lush darker green tropical glade.  I recognized it immediately from the google overhead picture, it was Anclote Key, the very place we would cross to from Carrabelle, Florida. What a coincidence!  Of all the times I had flown into Tampa, this was the first time I had actually flown over Anclote Key.  A nagging doubt started growing in my alleged mind, was this an omen? If so, was it a good or bad omen!

                                                                                  


     I exited the airport to see my daughter Jennifer's ever present beautiful smile visible from inside the car.  Giving me a kiss she laughingly said, "How was your trip, old man."
 I responded in my usual fashion, as grumpy as I could feign, "I'll show you whose an old man!" and started tickling her ribs. We took off for the long 4 hour ride to meet Beth, Tom and Mildred waiting for us on the boat in Carrabelle. 
     Tom, Mildred and Beth spent the previous few days prepping and supplying the boat for the crossing and they were ready to go.  We repeatedly checked the wind, waves, swells, currents and as much as I looked for a reason to not go, there was none.
 " This would be the best it is ever going to be." The people at The Moorings marina reassured me. We topped up the fuel tanks, water tanks and checked all the filters and fluids.  Tomorrow we would cross.
    Almost immediately the Admiral and I began to argue.  "We should leave later in the afternoon." I said.
 "No we are leaving as soon as the morning fog clears so we can do much of it in daylight." she insisted.
 "But its a 16 hour trip and we need to arrive in daylight so we can see to avoid the crab pots!" I exclaimed.
 "No.  I'm putting my foot down this time.  You've made enough mistakes.  We are leaving in the morning when we know we have a window of good weather." she said firmly.
 "Oh, well," I thought somewhat chagrined, "Lets see what happens in the morning."
   
 

Socked in, in Carrabelle

     The weather window was swept away by another storm.  As I sat staring blankly out the side windows of the boat I unconsciously shrugged my shoulders, thinking, "You left knowing it wasn't the best weather in which to travel.  Get over it. Make the best of it.  If this was Maine you would be smiling that you could go boating at all during this time of the year.  If this continued warming of the earth continues we may indeed be boating in Maine in February!"  So, a change in attitude was in order, as was a change in the way we have been cruising.  Crossing the Gulf was the next big challenge and  I hoped we would slow down and enjoy the rest of this trip.

                                                                  Tornado forming          

      Looking around it was obvious that Carrabelle is a quaint little town.  Having dinner at the local restaurant, "The Fisherman's Wife", we met her and some of her family.  Her husband actually captains a shrimp fishing boat.   "He is shrimping right now down off of Key West and won't be home for two weeks", she informed us. "That's why our seafood is so fresh. He brings it home with him and we get it right off the boat."
      It was fresh.  The crab cakes were made that afternoon and were only available on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, which appeared to be their busy time as people came for miles specifically to get the cakes.
      When I asked the Fisherman's Wife, how far it was to down town.  She declared with a warm smile, "You are down town. This is it! "  So downtown consists of 3 to 4 marinas,  one IGA grocery store, 2 small restaurants, one Ace hardware and the world's smallest police station!

                                                                                      

      People here are "small town friendly" and Buddy is one of these people.  He is the local weather guru, who advises all the cruisers of when and how to make the crossing to the west coast of Florida.  He has been a permanent fixture at the Moorings Marina for over 20 years.  Not to my surprise, when I told him about our attempt at crossing from Panama he indicated that even though I was correct in my assessment that the wind and waves would settle to 0 to 1 foot, there was an east wind.  This would pile the waves up on the San Blas shoals and it was a good thing we came back in because it would have gotten worse the further out we went until we were miles past the shoals!  Five boats left that morning from Carrabelle and easily made the crossing.  Not only is it different leaving from the east side of the shoals but because we just had a new moon the tide was higher so it would still be somewhat unsettling around the two major currents we would have to pass through to get to Tarpon Springs.  He has a better way that takes boats 15 miles east before making a turn to Tarpon Springs, thus avoiding both currents.
     As I wandered the dock, checking out the boats I approached a 44 foot Marine Trader Trawler, "Trip Time" tied up to the transient dock.  She was displaying the "Loopers Flag" on her flag pole.  I immediately looked in to say Hello and struck up a conversation with Bob and Cathy Carlson.  It turns out, they had just missed the weather window  and were anxiously awaiting to hear from Buddy about a possible crossing early next week.  No doubt in my mind, when we return in mid March we would wait until Buddy gives us the thumbs up to attempt the 140 mile crossing to Tarpon Springs.
     We still had some problems to solve on the boat.  Although we changed out the generator room bilge pump with a new one that had a check valve built in, I was uneasy.  It was apparent to me that the recurrent problem with the pump was just a symptom of what was really wrong.....the boat was overloaded on the port side placing the bilge pump openings under water most of the time.  It was  high time to figure out why and get the boat balanced properly.  First we tried turning the dingy around so the weight of the motor was on the other side.... totally useless!  This didn't balance the boat and was not only difficult to do, but we managed to break the cradle the boat sits in, trying to do it.   Back to the hardware store for 3 inch long stainless screws to re-bed the cradle.   Next, we took a close look in the engine room.  I knew there was lead ballast on the port side of the boat but could not find anywhere to secure this ballast on the starboard side. Tom, Mildred and I wracked our brains about different ways we could safely move some of the lead plates to the starboard side of the boat, coming up with no good solutions.
      Our newly met friend from "Trip Time", Bob Carlson calmly suggested, "Why don't you just take the lead out!"
      DA AAH! (sometimes it pays to not be so close to a situation).   This was a task I hoped to avoid since each plate weighed about 35 lbs and required a position that would aggravate even a healthy back.  Nevertheless, we pulled out 13 plates (455lbs!) and placed them on the dock to be removed later by Beth and our daughter Jennifer when they returned to Naples. The boat was now lighter, level and would hopefully be more fuel efficient.
     Mother nature had one last going away present for us.   I was on the phone with our grandson Blake's mother when suddenly the boat began a rough rolling motion straining the dock lines.  As I looked out several people were starring up at the clouds which were black and rotating clockwise. Immediately, beside these clouds rotated another system in the opposite direction! A tornado appeared to be forming.  "Sorry, I gotta go Amanda!" I shouted as I hung up the phone. A quick check of the lines eased my foreboding as I mentally prepared for the worst. 
     Captain Rusty is the  local Tow Boat U.S. captain and runs the ferry service from Carrabelle to Dog Island.  As he quickly pulled up next to us on the dock,  I ran over to catch a line.  "How was it out there I yelled."
 "No problem." he responded. "I got hit by 8 foot waves and a water spout but this boat is an Island Hopper and she took it well.  Just got to get some grass and branches out of my rigging!"
      Glad that we weren't out there, we finished packing the car to head back to Beaumont, TX.  Hopefully when we return March 17, this weather will have settled and we will have a relaxing trip to the Florida west coast.

Appalachicola to Carabelle

     Ok, our plans for the crossing were behind us.  We would now have a few days to relax and enjoy exploring this particular area of Florida. You know, find the flavour of this area. However, things didn't start out well.  As I started to have a shower I noticed that the water pressure was low.  We had tanked up at our last stop so I continued to lather up....and ...no water...damn it!....soap from head to toe and no way to rinse off!...what the hell is wrong now!  Apparently, with all the banging and jarring around in the gulf a clamp had  loosened and come off the water pump and all the fresh water was pumped into the bilge!  Mildred, bless her heart,  heard the pump running after all of us had retired, and went down and repaired it on her own.  Thank you Mildred!  We would fill up again when we settled into a marina, tonight.

  

                                                        The Wharf in Apalachicola

       While the girls went to explore (read shop!) Tom and I set about repairing the bilge pump-- again. It turned out to be no big deal, some trash got caught up in the check valve and water was siphoning back into the boat!  We still hadn't got the boat balanced yet, since it involved moving lead weights from the port to the starboard side and we had no way yet to secure the weights on the other side of the boat.  I figured part of the problem was the new dingy being not centered, so opted for pulling the dingy towards the centre of the boat.  The boat was still low in the water since, we were still loaded  "Beverly Hillbilly style".  "Stuff" would be coming off the boat in Carrabelle to make room for any family or friends that were crazy enough to want to come along on this cruise, so we could rebalance later.

                                                                 Shopping Spree
                                                        

    We basked in the warm sun light and thought we would enjoy a nice relaxing day in Apalachacola.  We went to "Carolines" restaurant for breakfast. (recommended to Mildred by two little old ladies in a shop who argued  about where was the best breakfast in town)  Carolines was a homey dining room overlooking the water.  Apalachicola is "Oyster City".  Everything seemed to revolve around the oyster industry or shrimping.  Oyster bars, oyster restaurants, and oyster menu at the restaurant.  As we sat looking over the menu, I thought, "Ok, I'll bite lets see what this oyster thing is really all about."  Tom, Mildred and Beth ordered the usual morning fare,  biscuits, gravy and eggs for Tom, sausage and eggs for Mildred, spinach omelet (ehck!) for Beth and I would try the oyster cakes and eggs!  Two bites and I gave it over to Tom who loves oysters!  To me, the oyster cakes had a rich perfumey taste that certainly didn't go along with breakfast.   No more oysters for me!
     As Tom and I were finishing some repairs the girls returned.  Beth had a troubled look in her eyes and I knew something was up when she said in a somewhat higher pitched voice. "They told us at the store that the storm was coming much faster than predicted.  We should get tied up at a marina....now!"  
     Well, it wasn't that simple.  Wherever, we tied up is where the boat would stay until our return in a month.   There were many things to consider...floating vs. fixed dock, tide changes, security and price.  I had already figured out that Apalachicola was overpriced after calling the only marina in town that had a slip big enough, paying for breakfast, and finding out that the $5.00 PVC pelican on a stick Beth bought (to plant in the flower bed at the condo in St. Stephen, NB) cost $45.00!  Active Captain had reviews on a marina in Carrabelle, the Moorings, which indicated they were very helpful, especially when deciding  when was a good time to make the gulf crossing and they had a safe, secure marina at a good price for the month.  Getting the feeling something bad is about to happen?

                                                                             

     The sky darkened as we rushed to untie the lines and push off the dock.  Turning by the shrimp boats tied at the end of the dock, I swung wide......and hit the shoal and an underwater piling .  As I backed off I felt the props grind in and saw a few pieces of wood surface...but we were off and headed out to Apalachicola bay.  As it started to rain, I looked at the weather report...the radar showed more rain headed our way and a major storm with 65 mile per hour winds, rain , lightning and tornadoes headed north east travelling at 60 miles per hour!  It was a little closer to turn around and go back to Apalachicola, so what did we do?.......by now you should be able to guess the answer to this...remember the quote by Simone de Beauvoir...at the beginning of this blog...I decided to "extend oneself".  After all the bad storm was north east of us and travelling northeast.  As long as it didn't turn we could handle the rain .  The one thing this boat can do that a trawler can't, is get up on plane.  Away we went.  I throttled up to 16 knots, turned on the radar and would cut the normal 3 hour 28 mile trip in half...so I thought! We did well until the hazy mist turned into thick fog!
     Not wanting to run over any oyster men working the bay, I slowed down.  At times we passed markers that were visible on the radar but not to the naked eye but we persisted and I am happy to report that the map plotter and radar pulled us through. The bad storm continued northeast of us and the fog lifted as we entered Carrabelle.  Finally, we could rest.  Docs Holiday would be staying here, safely berthed until our return.

                                                                    Oyster Fisherman

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
.
     Comfortably sipping a cubra libra, I could easily tolerate the burning in my ears from Beth chastising me.  She was more pissed about the grounding than she was about the trip across Apalachicola Bay, especially after I told her we would have to have a quick hall and the props exchanged before we attempted to cross the gulf!