Grandkids, more fish, and fewer fears

I have always loved the Gulf Coast of Florida. When I was a child, my family vacationed at Ft. Myers Beach every year, and I have fond memories of those trips.

Sailing up the West Coast last week to meet our son, Matt, his wife, Michelle, and our two grandchildren, Kailyn (age 6) and Tyler (age 3) in Naples was one of the high points of our journey so far.

We tied up at the Naples City Marina on Saturday, April 5th, and spent the day getting the boat ready for company. Matt called around noon on Sunday to say they had arrived at the condo where they would be staying and would come to the dock around 2:00 p.m.

Kailyn is a proficient reader. Since we were at the far end of the marina, I quickly made a series of signs and taped them along the docks leading to our boat. I knew the kids would love to follow the clues.

As Kailyn and Tyler found the last clue, they came running to the boat. We greeted them with open arms. Michelle's twin sister, Danielle, her husband, Brian, and their two sons Steven (age 6) and Ethan (age 3) came along also. After the kids made a thorough inspection of the boat, we all went out to dinner.

We spent a wonderful week with the extended family. There was lots of beach time, finding shells and starfish and making sand castles. We took a nice boat ride on Sunshine with the kids and their dads sitting up on the bow for a tour of Naples. And we ate lots of good seafood.

On Thursday, the Indiana visitors headed back home and we prepared for our journey back to Marathon and Boot Key Harbor.

While at Naples City Dock, we had met Doug and Debbie on Perigee, another catamaran, who were planning to head south about the same time we were. We left Naples on Friday morning and anchored that evening with Perigee at Jack Daniels Key, just south of Everglades City.

The weather forecast showed a cold front arriving from the North on Sunday afternoon, so we decided to leave the anchorage at dawn on Saturday morning and try to make it all the way to Marathon in one day.

The trip was about 65 miles, farther than we had ever gone in one day before. We pulled the anchor at first light, about 6:40 a.m., and followed Perigee out into the Gulf of Mexico.

All day, the wind was "on our nose" as they say. That means we were heading directly into the wind, which isn't very productive for sailing. We motored with the sails up, but finally decided the sails were slowing us down, and we pulled them in.

Motoring at about five knots, it was slow going. Our speed increased to six knots as we passed the southern tip of Florida. We said goodbye to Perigee, as they were headed to the Upper Keys, and we proceeded directly south on our own towards Marathon.

Although we weren't moving very fast, Phil did manage to catch two more large Spanish Mackerels during our trip. I filleted one and Phil filleted the second. They tasted great the next day!

There was a third fish, which we are calling the MONSTER fish, that chomped on our bait during the trip. I was at the helm. Phil was inside the boat. I suddenly heard the line make a "whee-ee-ee" sound. Before I could even pull back on the throttle and get Phil's attention, the MONSTER fish had emptied the reel of its line. There was a split second when I thought maybe I could begin to reel it in, but the 60-pound test line snapped before I could even consider grabbing the pole.

We'll never know what grabbed that line. I would like to think it was a huge Mahi or a Yellow Fin Tuna.

We passed under the Seven Mile Bridge about 7:30 p.m., close to sunset. It took us another half hour to reach the bascule bridge leading to Boot Key Habor. However, the bridge tender had gone off duty at 7:00, so we had to anchor right outside the bridge.

The light was disappearing quickly as we dropped the anchor. The first try didn't set, so we pulled the anchor and tried a second time. This time, the anchor set and we were secure for the night, just as the last light was fading.

We had been underway for nearly 14 hours and decided the cook needed a break. We dinghied to Burdine's Chiki Tiki restaurant nearby and enjoyed a fine dinner, then dinghied back to the boat and fell into bed.

First thing Sunday morning, we pulled the anchor and hailed the bridge tender, who welcomed us back to Boot Key Harbor. We managed to claim the same mooring ball (out of 226) where we had been before, and felt we had come back home.

We've been here at Boot Key Harbor for several days, stocking up on groceries, doing our laundry, and enjoying the camaraderie of old friends and meeting new friends. There are not many harbors that make you feel as welcome as Boot Key.

This weekend, we'll head to Key West. The Conch Republic Independence Celebration will begin on Friday, the 18th, and continues to the 27th. Our younger son, Andy, is flying in from Seattle to spend a few days with us beginning on Saturday, the 26th, and we are looking forward to his visit.

In case I haven't told you about the Conch Republic Fesitval, let me explain:

Back in 1982, the Navy was trying to stem the tide of Cuban refugees coming to the Keys by boat, so they installed a checkpoint at the north end of the Keys. The result was a traffic jam so great that few tourists could make it to Key West.

The mayor of Key West petitioned the Navy to remove the checkpoint, which they refused to do. So, the mayor filed papers of secession, Key West declared war on the U.S., and attacked the Key West Navy Base with rotten tomatoes. The Navy responded with water hoses.

Key West surrendered (the same day they declared war) and applied for $5-billion in foreign aid, which, of course, they never got. However, the massive publicity caused the Navy to remove the checkpoint.

After that, Key West residents began calling themselves the Conch Republic and, although the secession was mostly a publicity stunt, I think a lot of folks in Key West consider themselves separate from the United States.

We are looking forward to helping the Conch Republic celebrate the 26th anniversary of their independence from the U.S. I'll try to take lots of pictures, because I don't think I'll be able to accurately describe this event in words.

Finally, I thought it might be time to review the list of "fears" I had at the beginning of the trip:

Here was my list from February 4th:

1) The dinghy scares me. I am ashamed to admit this, but this little inflatable boat that is our "car" is difficult for me to get used to.

I am no longer afraid of the dinghy. It's still a little difficult for me to get in and out of, but it no longer scares me.

2) It scares me to go sleep on an 8,700 pound boat being held in place by single anchor. I get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor.

I still get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor, but it no longer scares me. I sleep well on the boat at anchor.

3) It scares me to try to dock this 36' by 18' yacht and then help get it securely tied up.

I think everyone is apprehensive about docking, but it no longer scares me. I've learned some techniques about estimating the effect of the current and the wind, and I've learned to slow down. I now enjoy the challenge of docking.

4) It scares me to try to pull away from a dock without crunching the back of the boat, or going aground (as I did a few days ago).

We're still working on this one, but I can't say I'm scared any more. It's definitely a challenge to pull away from the dock gracefully, especially when the wind and/or the current is pushing you back into the dock.

5) It will really scare me when we "go outside."

We have "gone outside" several times now. It is no longer scary. We watch the weather and don't take chances.

6) Learning to sail will scare me. We have very little experience at sailing and we have a lot to learn. As we learn, I will be less scared.

We have sailed a number of times and there has been nothing scary. We have both learned how to raise the sails and pull them back in. We have learned how to trim the sails to get the best effect from the wind. We are not expert sailors in any sense of the word, but we are learning a lot.

7) Our first overnight passage will scare me.

We haven't tried an overnight passage yet, but I don't think I will be scared. I will probably have a hard time staying wake, but it no longer scares me to contemplate an overnight passage.

Life is good,

Margaret

A Fish Fry for Eight Hungry Sailors

Boot Key Harbor, halfway between Key Largo and Key West, is possibly the most comfortable. friendly place you would ever want to spend some time.

The one and only thing that would cause us to leave the comfort and safety of Boot Key Harbor and travel the unfamiliar territory of Southwest Florida and the Gulf of Mexico is a chance to meet up with our son, his wife, and our grandchildren, whom we haven’t seen since we left Greenwood in early January.

Fortune again smiled on these inexperienced cruisers. At a Wednesday night “meet and greet” at the Boot Key Harbor Marina, we were introduced to Lloyd and Carolyn from Minnesota on the sailboat “Amelia Rose” who were planning a trip to Charlotte Harbor, north of Naples. They had made this trip many times and invited us to join them.

A third boat, owned by Ken and Joanne, also from Minnesota, which we all christened “Bubba Boat” because none of us could pronounce her Spanish name, would also be joining our caravan.

We said goodbye to Boot Key Harbor at 8:30 Saturday morning and headed north, on our journey up the wild, mostly uninhabited Gulf Coast of Southwest Florida.

The sun was shining, the temperature was climbing into the 80’s, the winds were calm, and the sea was smooth.

We motored through the Moser Channel just outside of Boot Key, under a fixed bridge with 65’ clearance, and north into the Florida Bay. As we cleared the bridge, we all raised our sails, trying to catch a little wind to add to the speed produced by the engines.

This day would be another first: our first sail out of sight of land. I watched as the Seven Mile Bridge disappeared from view behind us. A few small keys laid to the west, but after an hour of sailing, all land disappeared and the horizon was only turquoise water for 360 degrees.

Phil and I took turns at the helm, one hour on and one hour off. Porpoises came and went, diving under the boat and playing in the wake. The chart plotter told us we were about 10 miles off shore, but we could see no land. The sun was shining brightly, but a steady breeze kept us cool.

I had been apprehensive about our first voyage out of sight of land, but like so many other aspects of this adventure, my fears gave way to wonder and exhilaration. Motor-sailing along at six knots with the boat gently rocking and no land in sight gave me a feeling of peace and comfort.

A full day of traveling brought us to the Little Shark River, part of the Everglades National Park. We traveled in to shore on a well-marked route and soon were anchored in a wide river that could easily have been the setting for a horror movie. Hurricane Wilma had left it’s mark on this beautiful river, decimating the mangrove and hardwood forest that lined the river. Even after several years of new growth, the devastation was still evident. Ichabod Crane would have felt at home here.

We anchored with the other two boats about 6:00 p.m., had dinner and settled in for an early bedtime, closing up the boat before the hordes of mosquitoes attacked at dusk. Before we went to sleep, Amelia Rose hailed us on the VHF and asked if we could be ready to leave at 7:30 the next morning, because we had 65 miles ahead of us to get to Marco Island.

Like clockwork at 7:30 a.m. Sunday morning, all three boats headed out of Shark River. We traveled about ten miles offshore and then turned to the north.

As soon as we reached deeper water, Phil prepared a fishing line with an artificial lure that looked like a small minnow, and let out the line behind the boat. Within the first hour, we had hooked a fish. I took over the helm while Captain Phil worked the line. I could see a good-sized fish bouncing along the water as he reeled it in.

We identified the catch as a Spanish Mackerel. It was about two feet long and was pretty upset at being dragged onto the boat. I put the boat on auto-pilot, and using a tip from a fellow boater, rinsed a small towel in sea water and covered the fish. He immediately stopped flopping around.

Another boater had recommended subduing a catch with a squirt of alcohol in the gills. We had no gin or vodka on board, but I did have some rubbing alcohol. A quick squirt in the gills dispatched our fish quickly, with a smile on his face.

We stored the mackerel in a cooler and covered him with ice. We hailed the other boats and bragged about our catch. Bubba Boat wanted to know exactly what kind of lure we were using, so Phil described it in detail.

Phil let out the line again and within an hour, we had hooked a second Spanish Mackerel. Again, he managed to adroitly bring the fish on board and, again, it was at least two feet long. We applied our tried and true subduing methods and the second fish soon joined the first fish in the cooler.

The line went out again and before long we had snagged a third Spanish Mackerel. After depositing fish number three in the cooler, Phil took over the piloting of the boat and I proceeded to filet the catch. Although I didn’t have scales to weigh the filets, it looked like enough to feed an army.

We arrived at Marco Island about 6:00 p.m. and all three boats were anchored in Factory Bay by 7:00. We invited the other two boats over for a fish fry. As soon as we anchored, we put potatoes on the grill to bake and prepare two frying pans with enough oil to fry the catch.

Our fellow boaters arrived around 8:30 p.m., bringing salads and dressing to round out the meal. I dredged the fillets in bread crumbs and corn meal and dropped them into the hot oil. Our feast was complemented by lots of wine and soft drinks. The party lasted until nearly midnight.

We spent the next two days resting, doing odd jobs on the boat, reading, and enjoying the beautiful scenery and weather in Marco Island.

On Wednesday, we said goodbye to our buddy boats and traveled a few miles north, anchoring on a pristine river near a large lake called Rookery Bay, a protected nesting area for water fowl. Although we were within a few miles of both Marco Island and Naples, it seemed as if we were in the middle of a wilderness.

We tried our hands at fishing in the river using the same artificial lure that had caught the mackerels, but had no luck. On a whim, I attached a small piece of leftover pork roast to a hook on a line and soon felt a tug. On my line was a 12” catfish, which Phil carefully de-hooked and released. We did take a picture (see above) to prove that I had actually caught a fish.

Today, (Thursday) we have moved a few more miles to the southern outskirts of Naples. This time, our anchorage is in a small bay, surrounded by multi-million dollar homes. We’ve gone from the sublime to the ridiculous, but our internet, cell phone and television reception are all exceptional.

We’ll probably hang out here in the land of the rich and famous for a couple of nights, then move to the Naples City Docks to await the arrival of our son, daughter in law and grandchildren on Sunday.

Life is good.