Ed Robinson's Blog, page 12

Misadventures in Key West

I am not making this up. The following account actually happened last night here in Key Weird.

We woke to winds out of the north at 15 to 20 knots. We decided it was not too rough to take the dinghy into Key West Bight and spend the day on the town. By the time the sun began to set we found ourselves looking out over the harbor at huge waves. The wind was now a stready 30 with gusts to 35. The trip back to our boat looked impossible.

We spoke with some locals liveaboards who were all standing around the dinghy dock either waiting or preparing to attempt it. Some said, “No way I’m going out there.” We watched one single guy attempt it, only to turn around and come back in. I was willing to give it a try, but Kim said, “No way I’ going out there.”

As we walked the docks we decided to try to find someone with a bigger boat who might be willing to give us a ride and tow our dinghy behind. We found one taker only, Crazy Bruce. Bruce has an old barge type junker about 20 feet long. It sports 3 outboards on the transom. All are way too small for his boat. Turns out the starboard side engine didn’t run. The port side engine was “having problems”. Only the center engine actually ran properly. It was a 4 horse-power Mercury.

So…. we set out with our dinghy in tow, along with another dinghy that Captain Bruce had rescued from certain destruction after it broke free of its mothership. I wish I had pictures of this sorry sight, but all of this took place in the dark. As we cleared the sea wall at the Coast Guard station, the wind and waves hit us full force directly on the bow. We stopped! The engine was running and in gear, but we weren’t moving. Bruce gunned the little motor and we started making way at about 1/2 knot.

It was slow and laborious, but it looked like we’d make it eventually. We managed to get 3/4 of the way to our vessel when it all went wrong. A sailboat had drug anchor and was drifting into the channel. “That’s my buddy’s boat,” yelled Captain Bruce. “I gotta save it.” So we gave up all our forward progress and plowed over to the runaway boat. Bruce drove his barge right into the transom and rammed it hard. “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed. Bruce said he was going to push it up on the anchor and give it a chance to set. We rammed the boat several more times. Bruce asked if I was salty enough to jump aboard it. I was wearing flip-flops, I was cold and wet, and I’d had a few drinks. (recipe for disaster). I told Bruce I wasn’t about to try to board it.

Then his outboard came to an abrupt halt. It just locked up and quit running. Problem? We wrapped a lobster trap in the prop. We drifted away from the sailboat a bit but caught fast as the pot held us.Now we are stern-to and taking waves over the transom. Bruce yells he has a knife somewhere on board, Help! It’s pitch-black dark, blowing like stink, and we crawl on our hands and knees digging through assorted junk looking for a knife. Kim finds it. Bruce cuts the pot loose but some line is still wrapped. Now we are drifting free with no running engine. We are headed for the sea wall at an alarming pace.

Bruce switches gas tanks to the port side engine. He pulls and yanks and it doesn’t want to start. We are rapidly approaching a concrete wall in large seas, in the dark. We turn sideways and our dinghy comes alongside us. Kim and I grab it and prepare to abandon ship. the motor starts. Kim thanks Jesus. Bruce gives the motor all it can handle and we very slowly start putting distance between us and the wall. It looks like he’s heading back towards his buddies boat. I say “No effing way dude. Just get us to our boat.” He say okay, he understands. He alternately laughs maniacally and cusses the Gods. He threatens to kill a lobsterman. I thought he’d howl at the moon at any minute. We pass the sailboat that appears to have stopped drifting and the motor starts to cough. Kim prays to Jesus again. It revs up, it dies down. Bruce screams to the heavens.

He steers towards the closest boat with a plan to tie off, switch back to the good engine, and attempt to clear the line from the prop. We almost make it.

The little engine dies about 15 feet short of our goal and we are adrift again. Back we go towards the seawall. It was probably my imagination but it seemed like the wind picked up even more. Bruce is screaming at his motors like a madman. He is slashing and cutting at lines. Dinghy lines get in the way and he threatens to cut them loose. The wall looms large in the darkness. Once again we prepared to abandon ship, but the good motor fires and we veer away with 20 feet to spare. Back into the fray we go, pounding and bouncing and splashing once again towards our vessel.

As we finally approach, I ask how we are going to go about this. Bruce has me take a line up on his bow as he nears our transom. My weight up front causes waves to break over. Kim is in the floor on her hands and knees. He gets me close and I jump onto our swim platform with a bow line in my hand. I tie him off and now we have to get Kim aboard. She is terrified. Bruce times the waves. Kim tries to move and he screams at her. Wait. Not yet. Now! Go!! Jump!!! I’m there to grab her and we stumble together through the transom door and into our cockpit.

Bruce declares he needs to leave the other dinghy he’s towing with us, so he can rescue his buddies boat. I didn’t want it, but I agreed. No time to think or argue. We tie it off and untie Bruce and he wheels off into the maelstrom to do another good dead. We can’t see him for long. He’s obscured by the waves and the darkness. He had promised to return to pick up the extra dinghy, but he did not. I still have it.

I went for the rum locker but Kim had beat me to it. She was shaking and trembling in the salon. We were both drenched and beaten, but now safe aboard our own vessel. Once she settled down, I went to our bow and let out an additional 50 feet of chain to our anchor. It was a long sleepless night after that. The wind is still howling here. We are holding well though. Some of our neighbors were not so lucky.

When the wind dies we’re getting out of here. It really is not a good place for cruisers.

If something like this ever happens to you, don’t let Captain Bruce give you a ride. Lock up the dink and get a hotel room, sleep in the bushes, whatever.

Longboat/Anna Maria for Cruisers

We love to visit Longboat Key. We recently spent a few weeks there hanging out on the beach and taking in gorgeous sunsets every night. The only problem with this area, is little to no services are available for cruisers with no car. That’s where Anna Maria comes in. There is a dinghy dock (free) at Brandenton Beach. Just below the Cortez Bridge there’s a fishing pier (currently under construction). The dinghy dock not only gives you land access, it has trash and recycling receptacles and fresh water can be found on the pier. There are mens/womens restrooms on the pier as well as a shower with hot water. These are free for your use, but of questionable cleanliness.

The anchorage at Brandenton Beach is to be avoided in our opinion. It’s full of derelict boats and possibly some derelict people as well. Shady looking group of liveaboards and local vagrants hang out here. It’s much nicer to anchor at Longbeach, on the north end of Longboat Key. The dinghy ride to BB is two miles. Anna Maria runs a FREE trolley that will take you to Publix or Walgreens. The trolley stop is two blocks from the dinghy dock. Perfect!

As you can see, there are two options. The anchorage near the restaurants is the preferred one. It is sometimes crowded though, especially in season. If you are forced to chose the Jewfish Key area, beware of strong current that flows through from Longboat Pass. The open area between Longboat and Jewfish has swinging room for a small freighter, but man the current is wicked.

Entering the anchorage from the ICW can be slighty tricky. There is severe shoaling just off the channel which has been marked with floating buoys. Do not try to shortcut this area. Stay well inside the markers until you approach Jewfish Key before turning west. Plenty of water inside, and the holding is good. The beach is a quick dinghy ride and weekends feature large gatherings of locals on a sandbar inside the Pass. It’s just a fun place to hangout and the sunsets are incredible. We even saw our very first Green Flash.

The water was nice and clear while we were there. There were plenty of dolphins and even a few manatee to entertain us as well. Happy Hour at Moore’s Stone Crab is 4 to 6. Eat in the bar not the dining room. Happy Hour at Mar Vista is from 4 to 7, but only applies at the bar itself. (important info there)

This is a recommended stop for anyone traveling the west coast of Florida. Don’t pass it up.

The Green Flash

A few days ago . . .

We we anchored in the Longboat anchorage, north end of Longboat Key. We decided to take the dinghy to the beach to watch the sunset. We do this very often. We never miss a sunset if its visible. There were a few boats in Longboat Pass viewing. There was no one else on the beach.

Kim and I witnessed the Green Flash for the very first time. We both clearly saw it. It felt magical. We decided it was some sort of good luck charm or omen of good things to come. Later we heard from friends on Anna Maria Island, just a few miles away, had witnessed it too.

I posted on my personal Facebook page about seeing it. To my surprise, someone called me a liar! I also mentioned it on my fanpage. Someone there said “It’s a myth”. I was shocked by these comments. We saw the dang thing! I guess there are those who don’t believe it’s real, but let me tell you – It Is A Real Thing.

I did not actually get a picture of the Green Flash, but this was a split second before:

A quick search of Google Images results in plenty of Green Flash captures;

Even Youtube has several good videos that clearly show a Green Flash:

And from Widipedia:

Green flashes and green rays are optical phenomena that sometimes occur right after sunset or right before sunrise. When the conditions are right, a green spot is visible above the upper rim of the disk of the sun. The green appearance usually lasts for no more than a second or two. Sometimes (rarely) the green flash can resemble a green ray shooting up from the sunset (or sunrise) point. Green flashes occur because the atmosphere can cause the light from the sun to separate out into different colors. Green flashes are a group of phenomena which stem from slightly different causes, and therefore some types of green flashes are more common than others.[1]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_flash

 

Anyway, we feel blessed to have witnessed this rare phenomena. Someone on my FB page brought up an interesting point. They said they had seen it, but they’ve watched thousands of sunsets. Most people don’t take the time, or are in the position to see so many, so often. One of the wonders of life aboard is the ability to observe sunsets almost every single day. We celebrate them. We take joy in them. We’ve seen thousands too. We are thankful to have actually witnessed the Green Flash. To all the doubters . . . pppffffffffffffffffttttttttttttttt!

A Different Kind of Anchoring Dispute

Yesterday we left Englewood Beach and traveled up the waterway to the Sarasota area. We had a friend in their sailboat following us. It was a beautiful day to travel. I read Claiborne Young’s description of an anchorage nearby, and wanted to check it out. It’s called Robert’s Bay.

We pulled in just like the photo shows and had at least 6 feet of water (mostly more) all the way in. We set the hook mid island and settled down to enjoy the scenery. Within minutes a boat approached honking his horn and waving his arms.

“You can’t anchor here,” he yelled. Then he did the same to our buddy boat. He had a big sign on his vessel that said Custom Private Charters, with a phone number. 941-312-0800

I called the number as he drove away to discuss the matter. I can’t say he was totally rude, but he did mention running back and night on plane and possibly running us down. He said the area was a designated recreation area and therefore we couldn’t anchor. There are no signs, nor any mention on any charts or guidebooks that I have. I figured he was full of crap, but didn’t wish to start a confrontation. After consulting with our friends, we decided to leave.

It was a lovely spot, we were a little tired from the days travels, so our departure was reluctant. Today I went back over everything I could find, and remembered the Florida Sea Grant Anchorage Inventory. Here’s the listing:

http://www.flseagrant.org/anchorage/anchorage_site_detail.php?site=Roberts%20Bay

I don’t see how that prevents a cruising vessel from anchoring there. We were only planning to stay the night and move on in the morning. I’ve since contacted the offending boater via his website.

http://www.privatecustomcharters.com/

I’ve also emailed the FWC for further clarification. It’s a shame, because the anchorage is quite pleasant, (if you draw 4 foot or less). So this time, it was not a landowner causing friction, it was a fellow boater. A boater who is ignorant of current Florida law apparently.

DIY Bottom Paint

Our vessel was in dire need of new bottom paint. The choice was to pay someone to do it, or do it ourselves. After getting a few estimates and comparing them to the cost of doing it ourselves, we decided to take on the challenge. Estimated savings; $1000

There are two boatyards in the area that will allow you to do-it-yourself. Charlotte Harbor Boat Storage couldn’t take us until November. Safe Cove (formerly All-American) could take us right away.

We paid an extra $100 for pressure washing and it was well worth it. 95% of all barnacles were gone before I touched the hull. I had to scrap and poke at the nooks and crannies of the running gear. I chose Trilux 33 for the metal parts. Here’s a before and after of the prop, shaft and rudder.

Sanding the bottom was a horrendous job. It was hot, dusty and downright miserable. I started Friday afternoon and worked until dark. On Saturday I started work again early and finally finished at noon.

I wore some old tattered clothes that I should have thrown away a long time ago. When I finished sanding they went into the dumpster. It took about 8 hours of total labor to sand the hull. I was exhausted but thrilled to be done with that part of the job.

We washed it all down and took a break to let it dry. The 95 degree heat shortened the drying process. I chose Micron 66 for anti-fouling. Practical Sailor constantly tests and studies the performance of bottom paints, and Micron 66 is always the clear winner. It’s also the most expensive. Retail is $299.99 per gallon. I bought 3 gallons.

The heat made paint application difficult. It dried up so fast I couldn’t spread it out. It took two full gallons to finish the first coat. I was going to need another gallon. This is when I discovered “Brush Ease” from Interlux. It’s a thinner for Interlux bottom paints. You can dilute by 10% and it makes rolling much easier. I wish I had known before-hand. I used up all my West Marine ten-dollar coupons and got another gallon for $200. This cut our overall savings on the job down to $800. Still alot of money.

The second coat went on much smoother. A third coat was applied to the water line. I had the yard move the jackstands and those spots got two coats. We’d have a full 24 hours drying time before relaunch.

We hauled out on Friday at 1:00 p.m. and took the tape off on Monday at 5:00 p.m. It was non-stop manual labor in the Florida heat, and I’m glad it’s over. We launch today at 2:00 p.m.

If you ever wondered why it costs so much to have your bottom paint redone, I can tell you. Because it’s a nasty job. It’s pretty much the most miserable work I’ve ever done. I’m not afraid to work hard or get dirty, but I’m seriously considering paying someone to do it next time.

Preparing for the Long Haul

We’ve enjoyed two months out and about aboard Leap of Faith, but now we get down to business. We’ve returned to Punta Gorda. The initial reason was to renew our dinghy registration. Today is my birthday, and that’s when registrations expire in Florida. Easy enough to remember. We never have registered our trawler in Florida. Technically we’ve been illegal all this time. We are US Coast Guard documented. I decided to get legal and register the big boat too.

I took the dinghy in early this morning while Kim was still asleep. Dinghy reg was a snap, no problems with the renewal. Big boat was a different story. Kim had to be with me as she is co-owner. Bummer. Go back to boat and pick her up. Walk back up town to the Tax Collectors Office. Wait half an hour in line. Get to counter and computers go down. Another bummer. Wait another half hour. Computers come back up but there’s a snag. The hull number was not accepted by their system. The boat has NEVER been registered in the United States. It’s 34 years old. The previous owners were Canadian. Long phone calls followed. They switched me to another operator. More phone calls. Finally a resolution was found and we got our sticker, good for two years. We registered as an antique, and the fee was a whopping $8.50. Wahoooo!!! Now we’re good to go for two full years on both boats.

That will free us up to travel wherever we wish. Which will begin soon, but first we have to haul out for a bottom job. Ugh. We are going to tackle this ourselves in order to save money. We’ll be “on the hard” for a week or so, sanding and painting in the Florida heat. Hope to begin work on Friday at Charlotte Harbor Boat Storage.  http://www.charlotteharborboatstorage...

Once we get a shiny new anti-foulant coated bottom, we set off for parts unknown. First we hope to visit Long Boat Key for a week or two. Next we want to see the Dry Tortugas. After that we’ll chug slowly up the Keys and maybe even cross to the Bahamas. Whatever we decide on any particular day is our plan.

See ya on the water!

Ed and Kim

Trawler Trash Now Available at Amazon

Get your copy at the link:

Trawler Trash: Confessions of a Boat Bum

Poop, Booze, and Bikinis

Trawler Trash; Confessions of a Boat Bum

Is almost ready. Editing and revisions are done. Less than a week to go.

Be introduced to a new anti-hero. Meade Breeze lives on the far outskirts of society with no visible means of support. He survives on his wits and a meager income derived from selling home-grown dope to suburban housewives and home-brewed rum to bums in the park.

He’s also on the run from his past misdeeds. He fears it will all catch up with him someday, so he stays on the move aboard his classic trawler. Explore the Gulf Coast Islands, Florida Keys, and the Bahamas with Breeze, but keep one eye over your shoulder.

His mission to return his dead wife’s ashes to their special place seems hopeless. He’s going nowhere fast until a chance encounter with a lover from his past changes his luck . . . or does it?

See my first three books here:

http://www.amazon.com/Ed-Robinson/e/B00F42LGJ8

Fort Myers Beach For Cruisers

Now that we have no car, we have no home port to return to. Still, we must provision, do laundry, take on water, and do assorted chores on land. Fort Myers Beach is an excellent place to do so.

The city mooring field is administered by the Matanzas Inn, just under the bridge onto Estero Island. For $15 bucks per day one can grab a safe mooring, get rid of your trash, fill water jugs, and take a nice, long hot shower. There is free fresh water at the dinghy dock, but bring your own hose. The showers are nice and kept fairly clean. There are only two, so sometimes you may have to wait. The laundry room is air-conditioned and has free wifi.

A huge plus for this area is the ability to take your dinghy directly to the grocery store. Topp’s Supermarket is shown in the Google Maps pic. Occassionally there are some vagrants or other seedy looking characters in the area, but it’s very convenient.

If you wish, the ocean-side beach is just a few blocks away. There are many good restaurants within easy walking distance. We’ve decided our favorite place to hang out is the Tiki Bar at the Lighthouse Resort. $5 lunch specials and a good happy hour. Customers are free to use the pool and also the wifi. Our second favorite is Petey’s Upper Deck at the Matanzas Inn. Good live music every night and the best pizza on the island.The beer is nice and cold. Opens at 4:00 p.m. during the week.

The harbor can sometimes be busy with pirate ships, shrimp boats and the Key West Express. If you need civilization, you get the noise and bustle that comes with it. Overall, if you’re are traveling the west coast of Florida, it’s a must stop. Bridge clearance is 65 feet and waters depths are sufficient for deep draft vessels. Pumpouts are free with a paid mooring ball.

All necessary marine services are nearby, or within a trolley ride. There’s plenty to see and do if you end up hanging out for more than a few days to re-provision. Don’t pass it by.

Pic for Topp’s Supermarket wouldn’t paste, here’s the Google Maps link:

https://www.google.com/maps/place/Topps+Supermarket/@26.4515207,-81.94299,1700m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m2!3m1!1s0x0:0xefcacbbadc3c05d3?hl=en

Trawler Trash; Confessions of a Boat Bum

  Production is well underway. The manuscript is in the hands of an editor. Professionals are working on cover design. It won’t be long before Trawler Trash is available. I think you will enjoy it. 

 

Here’s a sneak peak. Read chapter 1 for free.

 

  I was sitting under the gazebo at the end of C dock at Fisherman’s Village Marina, in Punta Gorda, Florida. Colorado Bob and Kentucky Tom were letting me pilfer beers out of their coolers. These were my last two friends on Earth. They were two of the few who knew how broke and desperate I really was.

  Tom drank Budweiser, which I really didn’t like much. He also bore a strange resemblance to Beevis, from Beevis and Butthead. He had a self-deprecating wit and was always willing to lend a hand when needed. He was also a diver. I used him to clean the boat’s hull and he never charged me full price, sometimes doing it in exchange for my homemade rum, which he fed to his wife to keep her docile. Where ever Tom was, so was his dog Truman. In fact, he planned his bar stops and special events based on how dog friendly the place was. Me and Truman were cool. Bob had Yuengling in his cooler, which suited me much better. I alternated beers from each though, to keep the ledger even. Once I made a score, I’d come back with a case of Busch Lite and we’d all share. Bob had a fine gentlemen’s appearance. He was always neatly groomed and sharply dressed. You couldn’t pass by his boat without him offering you a beer.

 

  “When are you going to have another batch of rum?” asked Bob. “I’m almost out.” Bob liked his rum. He’s the only person I’ve ever known that mixes rum with tonic.

  “Another week or so and I can hook you up.” I reminded him I needed his empty bottles to refill. Then I turned to Tom. “You drown that crazy wife of yours yet?”

 

  That’s when we saw him coming down the dock. He was not a tourist. He wasn’t a boater either. He was wearing dress pants and shiny black shoes. His dark sunglasses didn’t say Florida. They said agent of some kind. His plain white tailored shirt was sweating through. I looked my drinking buddies in the eye and said, “Follow my lead.”

 

  I always assumed they’d come after me some day. I didn’t know if it would be police or the IRS, but they would come. There was no way to tell who this guy worked for and he did not identify himself. Instead he walked right up to our table and put his hands down on it. “Have any of you gentlemen seen one Meade Breeze around here lately?”

 

  I spoke up first before Tom or Bob could blow it. “Breeze hasn’t been around here in over a year. Haven’t seen or heard from him in a long time.”

 

  If he was looking for me, I’m sure he had seen a picture. His trouble was that I had lost about forty pounds and grown my hair out long since that picture was taken. He raised his glasses and gave me a squinty once-over. I shrugged. “You got a card or something in case we see him?”

 

  “No,” he answered. “I’ll be back.” With that he turned and started heading back up the dock towards the parking lot. Halfway to the end of the dock he stopped. He turned around and looked back our way, rubbing his chin. He sensed something was wrong here, at least that what I was thinking. His indecision saved me.

 

  “Later guys,” I yelled as I ran the other way. My dinghy was tied up at the end of D Dock. Mystery man yelled for me to stop but it was futile. I’m no track athlete but my head start was too much. I untied old Patches and fired up the Mercury on the first pull. The old outboard didn’t let me down this time. Starting on the first pull was about a fifty-fifty proposition. Hell, sometimes starting at all was questionable.

 

  My pursuer stood at the end of D dock taking pictures of me with his cell phone. I knew that once I made it to the other side of Harpoon Harry’s he wouldn’t be able to see me anymore. My boat was anchored just outside the canal to the Isles Yacht Club, less than a mile away. I needed to weigh anchor and make myself scarce before he could commandeer a boat and come after me. I had no idea how bad he wanted to catch me. I didn’t even know which agency he was with. All I knew was that The Man had found me.

 

  I was really feeling the adrenaline as I raced across a shallow flat towards safety. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of my situation. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when that guy tells his superior that his suspect escaped via dinghy. Approaching within a hundred yards of my trawler I eased off the throttle to bring the little boat down off plane. That’s when it happened. With a cough and a sputter the old Mercury died.

 

  “Shit,” I hollered out loud. I kicked the empty five-gallon gas can that I had intended to fill while at the marina. I was out of gas. I made a lousy fugitive. This new development sobered me up pretty quick. I dropped the oars and started rowing before I lost all forward momentum. Inflatable boats don’t row very well and I was fighting a combination of wind and current. I took a glance back and saw no one in pursuit. I stroked like a madman anyway. Angling the oars deeper I pulled my little boat as if it was in an Olympic competition. I punished myself for being so lax in my own personal security. I was going to have to be much more careful in the future. I was a wanted man after all.

 

  Eventually I was able to reach out and grab the swim platform and haul myself aboard the bigger boat. There was no time to break down and stow the dinghy, so I tied off a long painter and prepared to take it in tow. I fired up the tired Lehman 120 diesel and jogged up to the bow to raise the anchor. I made mental calculations as to how much fuel I had in the tanks. Pulling up the anchor was a major pain the ass. My windlass has ceased to operate years ago. Hand over hand I hauled up chain and fed it into the anchor locker. By the time I was finished I was drenched in sweat and my hands were raw from stray barnacles and sand. Mental note to self: wear gloves you idiot.

  I wondered what else I was forgetting as I climbed the ladder to the fly-bridge. My little close call was affecting my thinking ability. Breathe Breeze. Settle down. There would be plenty of time to gather my thoughts on this trip. My old trawler traveled at a stately six knots. It would be nearly four hours before I could nudge her into my hidey hole near Pelican Bay. I needed that time to formulate some kind of plan. Cash was low. Food stores were low. I didn’t get a chance to take on water like I had planned. The tanks were maybe half full.

 

  I piloted the old trawler out of the Peace River, around Whorehouse Point and turned her south towards marker five. I tried to take stock of my overall situation. Things were pretty dire without this mystery man coming so close. I chuckled to myself about trying to run in such a slow boat. Six knots wouldn’t win a turtle race. Slow and steady old girl, just keep chugging like you always do.

 

  We made the turn at marker five off Cape Haze and Boca Grande came into view. Soon I could make out the shoreline of Cayo Costa. I realized I was really thirsty. Having my free beer drinking session interrupted, followed by a vigorous rowing session left me dying of thirst. Normally I’d hoard any beers I had aboard but I felt I deserved a few at that moment. It was times like these I wished I had bought an autopilot when I had the money. By the time I climbed down the ladder, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and climbed back up, we were way off course.

 

  In my mind I told Miss Leap that she should know the way by now. Her real name was Leap of Faith but I always referred to her as Miss Leap. Whenever we completed a journey, I’d pat her on the transom and tell her she did a good job. She was a 1980 Blue Seas Yacht. She sported the Europa style, with overhangs around the sides and over the aft deck. Her lines were all class, but she was aging. At first I kept her pristine, constantly caring for her teak and gel coat. I couldn’t afford that these days. She didn’t appear derelict or anything. It was just that the first signs of neglect were becoming apparent. From a distance people thought her a beauty. Upon closer inspection they’d see the oxidation and cracking varnish. She was my home. Without her I’d be just like the bums in the park.

 

  A few miles remained until we entered Pelican Pass. The sun was about to set over the Boca Grande Pass. The water closer to the Gulf had turned blue. I sat at the helm with my precious beer and watched the water become inflamed with the image of the sunburned sky. I had a moment of happiness in an otherwise miserable life. The beauty of my surroundings was often the only thing that kept me going. I had lost everything I had ever loved except for this old boat. I had screwed up royally thereafter. I had no future but I kept on living.

 

  Now it looked like the endgame was getting near. I had no choice but to keep running, keep hiding. The years of freedom that living on a boat had provided made the prospect of jail seem a certain death sentence. I shook myself out of this introspection as we approached the entrance channel to Pelican Bay. Normally I’d anchor in the open bay. I had to stay off the mangroves to avoid the mosquitoes. This time would be different.

 

  I passed the sand spit to starboard and turned off towards the park service docks. Veering south I left the other anchored boats in my quiet wake and angled towards a cut in the bar that would allow me entrance to a mostly hidden cove. I slowed to a crawl in case I hit bottom. If you did this right there was plenty of water, but the cut was narrow. During the day you could see the bar to port and the grass bed to starboard. I have arrived after sunset and had to rely on my GPS only. We made it through without a bump and I dropped anchor about an hour after sunset. I spent the rest of the night just sitting and staring at the moon as it rose in the sky. How in the hell had I ever let my life spiral so far downward? Finally I gave up thinking and hit the bunk with the smell of Off prominent on my skin and the odor of despair coming from my soul.