Cruise to the Keys 2014 – Page 3 – Have Wind Will Travel

What’s the Worst Thing You Can Have on a Boat?

September 24, 2014September 24, 2014anniedike

April 28-29, 2014:

I like to just ask it that way. See what people say. Most kind of look at you funny, scrunch up their brow (Yes, scrunch – how do you think a “scrunchy” gets that way?)

Rockin’ it!

and either ask “What exactly do you mean by that?” or start thinking on the possibilities. But, ask several cruisers that question, and I’ll bet you get several different answers:

A fire perhaps?

Just tragic …

Lightning?

That would also fall into the category of ‘Suck’

Phillip tried several of these when I first asked him, and then – to my pleasant surprise – threw out a wild guess of:

“A nagging woman?”

Nice try, but …

It is a fun question because it can spark so many different answers (as well as interesting follow-up questions – Do you mean to happen TO the boat? Or be ON the boat?, etc.) – and it usually leads to some really interesting tales at sea. I believe I would have answered that question the same way before we ventured off to the Keys, but I certainly did not expect to experience my particular brand of “worst thing” on this trip! But, that’s the thing about sailing you have to constantly expect the unexpected. So, where were we?

Ahhh … yes. The busted First Mate. Perhaps not the worst thing to have on a boat, but it’s definitely up there in the list of not-so-good things. So, we were heading across the Gulf from Key West to Ft. Myers, and I was icing the knee and arm, hoping for immaculate recovery.

Pretty. The swelling really makes my bi’s and tri’s look huge, though, doesn’t it? Like a body-builder. Think I’ll sign up for it next year!

Hell yeah!

Thankfully, once we took the ice off, the swelling had gone down some and, while the arm hurt, it was mostly numb and mostly purple, but seemingly fully-functional, so that gave me some relief. The knee, however, was the real cause for concern. It was king of popping and clicking when I bent and straightened it and causing some pain when lowering and raising while weight-bearing. Knees are just such complicated joints. One little strain or tear and it just doesn’t function correctly. I figured there was some soft-tissue injury for sure, but I just decided to really baby it and see how things went. Thankfully, it was a gorgeous sailing day.

We were on a perfect broad reach with 10-12 knots of wind most of the day. Otto was holding, so we kicked back, cracked open a few books (and the Kindle) and spent a leisurely afternoon sailing and reading. I was digging into the second of what I called the “Dragon Lady” books. I had read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo on the way down to the Keys, and now I was tearing through the second in the series – The Girl Who Played with Fire. Both very good reads – elaborate, intriguing plots and characters that keep you invested to the very end. We polished off the blue cheese gnocchi that we saved from 7 Fish the night before,

and also dug into Phillip’s ham salad that we had made before leaving Key West.

Yum!

Other than the potentially-permanent limp, we enjoyed an exquisite afternoon/evening of sailing.

There is just nothing like watching the sun set on the edge of a vast, blue horizon. There are no buildings or signs or structures to block it. You can watch every single pink inch as it drops out of the sky. Just proof that – more often than not – real life is better than the movies. But we love movies too …

Uh-oh, guess what day it is?? Guess!!

Mmmhhh-hmmm, that’s right. It’s MOVIE DAY! Or movie time, I guess. Since we had such a steady sail going, such great weather and a perfect heading holding, we decided to crank up the laptop and put on a movie. (And, yes, much to Phillip’s chagrin, I do the whole “Movie Day” camel bit EVERY time we put on a movie on the boat. Every … time … ) By the way, if you think about it – a camel. Also another strong contender for “worst thing you can have on a boat.” Can you just imagine …

We decided to put on Leonardo DiCaprio’s J. Edgar Hoover that night.

Trailer HERE.

Another captivating performance by DiCaprio (that man is such a chameleon), and a riveting look at the development of the FBI’s internal database. It was a little slow, though, and after the morning scare, my body’s attempts at recovery, gnocchi, salad and a soothing day of sailing, I hate to say it, but this crew was starting to nod off. That changed, though, about half-way through the movie, when we started to hear the beginning rumblings of a massive thunder-storm behind us. We had just been joking, too, when we began the movie that “movie night” on the old Plaintiff’s Rest seems just a bit cursed. You may recall the last time we tried to kick back and watch a movie in the cockpit and Armageddon struck – the winds jumped from 9 to 15 to 25 in all of 10 minutes, we battled another flailing halyard, broke out the Frankenstein-assembled butterfly net on a stick (a.k.a. a gaff) and eventually lost the halyard up the mast altogether.

And, now – we put on a movie and what? Thunder?? Cursed, I tell ya. Cursed!! It’s funny how on the boat, though, when either of us hears that first guttural rumble in the distance, you kind of ignore it at first. I mean, you heard it, you’re sure the other crew members heard it, but it’s like you don’t want to be the first to acknowledge it – as if you’ll bring thunder to life by mentioning it? You usually kind of wait until you hear one more, and then you exchange that “look” with your fellow crew of — you heard that, right? We both heard it. We both knew what it was. After a few rumblings, we paused the movie to look around the boat and – sure enough – a big, billowy cumulus thunderhead lurked behind us off the starboard stern and we watched as a vicious streak of lightning blazed through it. It was pretty far off in the distance, so it didn’t worry us too much, but just as we were looking out past our stern, a huge bolt raced through a cloud that was just off our mid-ship, maybe a mile or so out. That concerned us.

Okay, that image is *ahem* … borrowed, but I did try to capture a bolt or two while we were out there. It’s just so hard to click fast enough to capture the light. Here’s Phillip looking out, though, on the the only-intermittent darkness.

We kept watching the movie a bit longer, but the periodic rumbles and bolts were far too distracting. We decided to turn the movie off for a bit and sit up on the deck to watch the lightning. It was still a good ways off, but it was hard to tell which way the storm was moving – particularly the stack of clouds on our midship. While the storm was kind of frightening, it was also invigorating. The adrenaline woke us both up, and the sight was just breathtaking. To get to watch lightning streak through the sky like that, time and again, really is stunning. Thankfully, though, the mid-ship storm rolled past us at a safe distance. While it’s not at the top of my list, lightning is definitely something I never want to see on the boat.

We finished the movie and transitioned into our now pretty-routine pattern of “night shifts.” Aside from the occasional tricky ladder shuffle with my bum knee, the night went smoothly. We cruised right along on our same broad reach under a thick blanket of stars and sailed right through to sunrise.

Looks about like sunset, huh? But, that’s one of the great things about life on the boat – you start to rise and set with the sun. It was a rare day on the trip that we didn’t see both the sunrise and sunset, which is a really reassuring sign that you are truly enjoying every minute of every day. We boiled up a nice pot of coffee and enjoyed the cruise toward Ft. Myers.

A visual inspection proved not much had changed since the day before … my arm and leg were still looking … ummm … pretty.

We had made such great time during the night, though, that we decided – instead of stopping at Ft. Myers Beach again, where spent an incredible few days before making the jump to Key West, to go ahead and motor on up into the ICW by Sanibel Island to check out the area around Cayo Costa Key that our buddy Johnny Walker had told us about.

And, THAT’S when we experienced the worst thing I think you can have on a boat. Phillip headed down below to re-fill his coffee mug and re-up on the sunscreen (a regular routine on the boat) and fiddle around with a few things. I was a bit of a slow-mover that day, so I didn’t get off my keister to investigate, but I heard him pull the cover back on the engine. Not too abnormal of a thing to do when we find ourselves motoring for a while. It’s always good to pull the cover back every couple of hours and make sure you don’t have any drips or fluids or water leaking out of the engine. So, that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. But, with the engine hatch still back, Phillip took a few steps up the companionway ladder and started looking around intently, as if he was trying to figure out exactly where we were, just how far we were from land. That’s when my brow scrunched.

“What? What, is it?” I asked him. And, after a few solid seconds of silence, he finally let out a rough breath and responded.

“Well, we’ve got somewhat of a leak.”

SOMEWHAT?!? You either have a leak or you don’t. He confirmed what I feared was true. We had sea water coming into the boat. Now, THAT, my friends is the worst thing I think you can have on a boat. A LEAK.

“Annie, Are You Okay??”

September 12, 2014September 13, 2014anniedike

April 28, 2014:

It was time to say goodbye to the Keys. While we certainly enjoyed our time on that quirky little island (and the breathtaking ferry over to the Dry Tortugas), it was time to give our livers – and pocketbooks – a break and start making our way back north toward Pensacola. After a week on dry land, though, we were ready to make another passage, ready to find ourselves back out in the middle of the Gulf with nothing on the horizon but blue sky meeting bluer water, water gently lapping the hull, the sun warming our skin as we read on the deck all afternoon, and, yes, even the night shifts, sailing that beautiful boat under a smattering of stars. It was time to make way!

We woke early and started readying the boat for passage. We tossed the lines first thing and headed out (literally, bow first from our stern-in slip at the A&B Marina – which was much easier exiting than entering, I can assure you). We made coffee on the boat for the first time since we had docked in Key West, and we promptly decided the Cuban Coffee Queen Hut had “nothing on us!” There’s just something about making your own coffee on the boat in the french press, and sipping that first warm mug while you’re starting out on a long passage.

We waved goodbye to Sunset Key as we made our way out of Key West Bight.

We had a bit of a scare when a pretty intimidating law enforcement vessel started motoring right toward us.

Phillip and I watched them with furrowed brows likely thinking the same thing – “Is that Y valve in the head turned the right way?” We had heard they keep a pretty close eye on regulation compliance in the Keys and the Coast Guard guys won’t hesitate to come aboard for an inspection. We were sure it was, but it’s one of those things if you ask yourself twice – “Are you really sure?” – that you start to second guess. Thankfully, though, The Law motored on behind us and continued on their way. Whew! Disaster avoided … or so we thought. But the adventures that day were just beginning.

You ever have one of those days that starts out perfectly normal, you begin your typical routine, you go about your business – completely unaware that this day is probably going to stick out in your mind for the rest of your meager existence. Everything seems to routine, so mundane and then BAM! It happens. Whatever it is – a car accident, a fire, an unexpected encounter, you win the lottery (let’s all hope!) – but, whatever it is, it’s something that makes that day stand out among the hundreds of bland, uniform days that preceded it. I guess being on this trip – a daily adventure – sort of changes that equation (in that every single ONE of our days on this trip held something new, something that will probably stick out in my mind for decades to come) but, still, I thought we were just going to get underway and make passage back to Ft. Myers. I thought maybe we would see a shark, perhaps run into some weather, some “adventure” I was mentally prepared for – but not this …

My day started something like this,

but that’s not how it ended.

We were motoring through the channel out of Key West Bight. It was a beautiful morning, around 9:00 a.m., not too hot yet, a light breeze coming in. We were ready to do some sailing! We decided to raise the main while we were making our way out of the channel so we could throw the Jenny out as soon as we made our way out and catch the wind.

I hopped up on the deck to attach the main halyard (the line that raises the main sail) to the sail. We always detach it from the sail and clip it away from the mast so that it does not bang when we’re in the marina or on the hook. (But, I’ll tell you – as a direct result of this very incident – we have since formed the habit of connecting the halyard BEFORE we leave the dock so that we are not doing it underway.) But, that is now. This was then. This is how lessons are learned.

I loosened the halyard and hopped up on the deck to connect it. Unfortunately, the wind was on our stern so it caught the slack in the halyard and blew it around one of the spreaders. For those of you who are sailing newbies – just imagine an important line is caught on some of that stuff up there on the mast, so we can’t pull it to raise our sail. And, the wind is on our stern, so it’s holding the halyard firmly in it’s ‘caught’ position. I let out more slack and embarked in an ancient rope-whipping dance (do recall my country roots),

that thankfully freed the halyard. You would think the hard part is over, but I’ve got to move quickly to get the slack pulled out so the line remains free and untangled so we can raise the main. So, I’m now holding the shackled end of the halyard in one hand, and holding the slack taught down the mast in the other. Basically pulling against myself to keep tension in the line so it stays flush on the mast and cannot snag on anything. A fine practice, if you’re standing on the deck, doing nothing other than holding the line, but I get the brilliant idea that I can go ahead and climb the step up the mast and hook the shackle whilst holding both ends of the halyard taught in 2-3 foot waves. Looking back on it now, that’s probably a three-handed job, and I’ve only got two, so …

As I’m stepping up the mast, a light wave rocks the boat and I have to grip or I’m going to fall. My body takes over instinctively (I guess) and lets go of the bleepin’ halyard so I can grap a cleat on the mast to avoid falling. To avoid falling … yes that was the plan, initially. But, now you know I’ve committed the ultimate sin.

I LET GO OF THAT DAD-BURN HALYARD!!

I couldn’t believe it had actually happened until I saw it swinging playfully in front of me, taunting me, just out of reach. As you recall, we have only let go of the halyard a couple of times on the boat, but each time required a monstrous chore to retrieve it – climbing the 50′ mast. The first time, we were at the marina back in Carrabelle and we raised the halyard on the Jenny back up the mast not knowing it wouldn’t come back down with just a wiggle and a shake. A rookie mistake – but it meant a mast-climb (thankfully secure at the marina, though) for me. The second time was when we were making the passage from Dog Island to Clearwater on our way down to the Keys (you remember the attempt at the butterfly-net retrieval?). Since we were underway, that time meant another mast-climb for yours truly, only this time mid-sea. That climb was one of the scariest moments, so far, on the trip for me, and I was damn sure I wasn’t going to let that happen again. I was going to get that halyard! Nothing was going to stop me!

It was swinging around just out of reach, I didn’t even think the Captain knew what had happened yet, and I thought if I could retrieve it and snap it on the sail before he even knew — even better. I jumped up on top of the boom.

Yes, the boom. I told you — I was going to GET THAT HALYARD!

And, up there, I was eye-level with it. I had a fighting chance! I just needed it to swing my direction (in those random, bouncy 2-3 foot waves – it could happen!). It came so close several times, and I almost had it. Phillip had seen me up there by now, but all he could belt out was a forceful, “Annniiee” followed by a stern “be careful!”

I will try my best to depict this with my rudimentary sketch skills, so bear with me, but it at least helps you visualize. Here I am, up on the boom, going for that bleepin’ halyard!

I was standing on the main sail, holding daintily onto one of the port-side lazy-jack lines that holds the stack-pack up, just for balance. After we had snapped the one on the starboard side clean off the spreader during our first rough night into Port St. Joe, I knew it didn’t take much to rip one off, so I was just using it for balance. I was, I swear. Until …

Until the halyard came swinging toward me. Finally! There it was! I could reach it! I stretched a hand out toward it …

and then SNAP!

With the halyard in sight, my fingers finally feeling the threads on it, I am sure my dainty little hold and light pull on the lazy jack line became a full-on death grip and full-weight dependent tug. Just as I clinched my hand around the main halyard shackle, I heard a loud SNAP!, I can’t remember what I saw or how my body reacted, but I felt a sickening thud, and the next thing I remember, I’m raising myself from a crumpled position on the starboard deck (between the cabin and the lifelines) with the main halyard in my right hand. Phillip stepped out from the behind the bimini with a horrific look on his face, his voice commanding, “Annie, are you okay?”

“I, I … ” I couldn’t really form a complete sentence. I didn’t know how, or what to say if I even could.

“ANNIE, ARE YOU OKAY?” Phillip persisted, his voice now a stern shout.

“I don’t know,” I told him. Because I didn’t.

Zeee BEST Key Lime Pie on zee Island

September 7, 2014September 7, 2014anniedike

April 27, 2014:

I’m not sure why I kept saying it like that, but I did. “Zee best, Phillip. We must find zee best!” It just seemed to give it a little more urgency with a thick Italian accent. We had went on the hunt for the “zee best” key lime pie on the island the night of the Captain’s Big Four-Oh celebration, but I’m sad to say we didn’t find it. Not that night (although we tried more pies than I can remember, and it seemed more pie made it on my dress and shoes than in my mouth – or so we discovered the next morning), but none of them really blew us away, so we were back on the hunt. I mean, this was our last day on the island. Our last chance! Tomorrow, we would be tossing the lines and heading out (literally, heading out as we were sterned in at the slip at A&B Marina) and sailing back across the Gulf to begin our journey back up to Pensacola.

But, we had made it a long way. While one of our original sail plans was to make the jump from the West Coast of Florida straight to the Dry Tortugas before heading over to Key West and then back north toward Pensacola,

such is the nature of “plans,” that’s all they are until they come to fruition. And, it seems in sailing, they often do not, which actually is what makes it so much fun. Every day seems to hold a new, unexpected adventure. Instead of sailing straight to the Dry Tortugas, though, we had made the jump from Ft. Myers beach straight to Key West,

and then took a ferry over to the Dry Tortugas and back.

Although we will definitely make the trip to Garden Key by sailboat next time, the ferry ride over and back was still a great way to experience the islands. But, having rounded the proverbial “corner” of our trip, tomorrow marked the day that we would get the boat back out there and turn her north.

So, this was it. Our last day to mozey around the quirky little backroads of Key West and explore. We set off early in the morning and deemed the hunt for “zee best” key lime pie on the island our mission. The day started out, as many on the island had, with a stout shot of Cuban coffee at the Cuban Coffee Queen hut.

Then it was off on foot! To see and experience anything and everything we could!

We walked for miles. Okay, maybe two. But, that’s still plural. Starting to feel the first hunger pangs of the morning, we knew we had a big decision to make. Where to eat. Seriously, it was a tough one. Do we take a chance on one of the many new places we had seen on our epic hike, or do we eat again at one of the places we already knew we loved? We often face this dilemma when we travel to places we’ve been before. NOLA is a prime example. Things start to get dicey when we’re trying to decide whether to eat at Domenica or MiLa again (knowing every dish will be exquisite, savory, heaven on our pallets!), or do we venture off to that new little eatery that just opened in the Marigny that everyone’s raving about? Decisions, decisions …

We decided, for lunch, to go back to the place we had deemed our favorite restaurant in Key West – Paseo’s! That little converted gas station that cranks out bowl after bowl of the sauciest, cheesiest Cuban wonders.

Yeah, that place. We definitely had to do that one again. While we would have loved to bask under the misters outside, this time the place was pretty packed (a good sign for one of the many little eateries in Key West) so we plopped down at the bar inside and lavished in a little AC while we were putting in our order.

You heard the monkey. “Stop staring at my banana!”

Love that place … Phillip got the hot pressed Cuban sandwich again,

which was excellent, just like last time, but (in a rare, glimmer or good-ordering luck) my pick was way better! I decided to get really wild with it this time and order up the West Carribean bowl.

Uhhh-huh. That one.

And, it did not disappoint. That was probably the best meal of the trip for me. Flavorful beans and rice covered with homemade salsa, layers of melty cheese, sour cream, fresh cilantro and pickled jalapenos, with a big succulent, roasted chicken thigh laid on top.

Tortilla rounds for dipping and eating. Every bite was cheesy and savory. The perfect balance of mexican/carribean flavors.

Yum. But, it was HUGE. If we had to do it over again, Phillip and I both agreed we could have easily shared the bowl, which means our favorite restaurant on the island (and ultimately our favorite meal of the trip) was also the cheapest. (Although the Captain is not too keen on my use of that word – I guess mostly when I’m referring to wine – “Wow, this wine is really good, Phillip, and so cheap!”). I’ll say it was the most economical. We could stuff ourselves to the gills for only $6 a piece!! I can assure you we paid more than that for each glass of wine we had at the fancier places. But, it’s all about the experience you’re craving at the time. We were in the mood for a cheesy pile of Cuban goodness in a rooster-pecking, misty gas station that day, so Paseo’s was the perfect choice. After lunch, it was time to fulfill our ultimate mission that day … that’s right. Say it. With the accent.

“Zee BEST key lime pie on zee island!”

We set off. We tried a bite here, a bite there,

and they were all good. Each one a little different. Some a little more tangy, some a little sweeter. Some with meringue, some with lime shavings, some plain. But, we hadn’t felt like we had quite found the BEST piece piece when we stumbled upon this little gem.

Kermit’s Key West Lime Shop, where they offered:

Not just key lime pie, but frozen chocolate-dipped key lime pie on a stick?? Could this be it?

And, not only did they promise it was the best key lime pie on the island, no, no. This was boasted as one of the “10 best desserts in America!”

You can’t be serious. But, they were. Phillip didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it. One frozen chocolate-dipped key lime pie, please.” The key lime shop boy held up a frosty piece of pie and we both eyed it intently, the air swirling around it like dry ice, and the first few little droplets of sweat forming on the chocolate. Phillip held it out to me, “ladies first,” and I took my first chilly bite. Frozen, the lime seemed to take on a bolder, richer flavor that paired perfectly with the decadent dark chocolate coating.

It was easily, hands down, the undisputed holder of the title Zee BEST key lime pie on zee island. We had found it! Frozen, dipped in chocolate, and waiting for us in this quirky little key lime shop right near the marina. But, that was just the beginning.

Yes, there’s more. After we moaned and mmmmhhhh‘ed through our first few bites, knowing we had found it – zee best! – the shop boy told us (perhaps because we were making a bit of a scene in the store) that there was a “little veranda out back” where we could enjoy our pie. We looked up at the boy with chocolate-covered faces and then looked back at each other. A veranda? Sounds great. Let’s check it out.

There, tucked behind the shop (completely hidden from the street) was the perfect little shaded terrace where one could sit daintily at the rod iron bistro style tables, overlooking the coy pond and waterfall and nibble on the frozen decadent treat that had been deemed one of the 10 best desserts in America.

Yes, this, is where we ate “zee best” key lime pie on the island. And, the pond was filled with beautiful Chinese fish.

I just noticed the whopping pie-on-a-stick in this shot when I sat down to write this blog, and I had to laugh. Trying to get all artsy with it. Nice try, Captain!

I sat and watched the fish tool around in the little pond while the Captain ate most of the pie.

We found a poster on the wall, too, with each of their head shots and names – Darth Vader, Carrot Top, Cagney and Lacey …

Our hunt for the best key lime pie had lead us to the coolest little place! This was one incredibly happy First Mate!

But, the leisurely strolls through the streets of Key West had to be balanced with the work we knew we needed to get done to ready the boat and crew for the passage tomorrow. We headed over to Fausto’s to provision up for the trip. Our buddy Postal Bob had recommended it as the best stop on the island for food, provisions and supplies, and he was right. We stocked up, and headed back to the boat to wash clothes at the marina laundry, fill the water tanks, and make some easy, filling food for the passage. We decided this time to make a hearty ham salad.

Diced ham, cheese, tomatoes and celery, tossed in a light Italian dressing.

Hey, check it out! I’m cooking and blogging!

Bringing you only “zee best” of zee Plaintiff’s Rest!

Once we finished our chores, we cleaned and got ready to head out for our last night on the town. We’d spent the afternoon whipping up some goodies for tomorrow, so we felt it was high time we whip up some goodies for to-DAY.

Oh yeah. That’s happening. “Hey, Annie. You want an Oh Shit?”

“Yes, please!”

A little coconut rum, a little dark rum, some pineapple and just a splash of OJ and it’ll make you say “Oohh Shiiiiit!” We love that drink!

Cheers!

We made our to-go drinks and began our last saunter along the streets of Key West. We decided there was another place on the island that we had to frequent twice before we left -to pay a little tribute I suppose to the legend – Hemingway’s old haunt, Sloppy Joe’s. We ordered up a couple of ‘Ritas – the Sloppy-Rita for me, and the straight Mara-Rita for the Captain.

Good stuff!

But, that was just the beginning of our cocktail crawl. It seems that’s what you do in the Keys. Don’t worry – we packed spare livers. We decided we wanted to fill our first stomach (we packed a few extra of those, too) at the Schooner Wharf Bar. We had walked through the outdoor dining/live music area before and had vowed to come back one afternoon to try out the oysters and happy hour specials there. Well, this was our last chance, so we nestled in at a little table for two and began one of our favorite hobbies — People Watching!

And, friends, let me just tell you the scene did not disappoint. They came from all walks of life. From salty, scraggly sailors that looked like they’d just rowed in from Cuba to wide-eyed ritzy Mr. and Mrs. Howell-type tourists that seemed simultaneously appalled yet oddly excited by the loud, schooner scene.

Oh my!

Not only were the people great to watch, though (I know, I really should have titled this post “But wait! There’s more!“) they put on quite the show, too. There was this loud party of six next to us that looked like they’d been there for hours. Three empty foamy pitchers and a dozen dirty Schooner Wharf solo-like cups were laid out on the table before them and they would intermittently bust out in song or raucous laughter, seemingly oblivious to the other patrons around them. I was, of course, eyeing them closely (knowing they were likely going to provide a gold-mine of fodder for the blog – this is rich stuff, people!) and they did not disappoint. One of the women clumsily scooted her chair back, burped visibly and started to stand up to stumble to the bathroom when she let out a high-pitched little “whoop!” and stepped back really quickly (showing more dexterity than I thought she was capable of her in condition). I leaned around to try and see whatever it was that had caused her to jump back. She stood there for a moment with her head cocked to one side looking at it, too, but I couldn’t quite see what it was yet. The woman wobbled down to a crouch and scooped it up and started massaging whatever IT was in her hands. I still couldn’t quite make it out, but she started walking towards us with it so I knew I would get a glimpse.

Turns out it was a bird. Looked like a pigeon. And, she was stroking and massaging its chest, saying “Awww, c’mon now biddy. It wasn’t so bad.”

She had stepped on it.

You would think, birds being so agile and dexterous, this one could have managed to find its way out of the path of this inebriated broad, but perhaps he’d been nibbling too many beer-soaked oyster crackers that fell from that party’s table to get his hide in gear before she – “whoop!” – smashed his poor little pigeon pride.

I did feel bad for her, and the bird. She seemed genuinely sorry about it, but she was holding him on his back and giving him little timed chest compressions as if she could revive him. “C’mon now … ” Bird CPR, if you will, except for the mouth-to-mouth, or beak, I suppose. Yes, that’s what we saw — bird CPR. (I’ll have you know that was another raging contender for title of this post as well – it’s so hard to choose!). She sat him down near the fence, and the poor little guy kind of sat there with his head wobbling around on his pigeon shoulders and blinking his eyes. He didn’t move much at first, but when she came back to check on him, I think he heard her King Kong footsteps and big squawk voice coming – “Here biddy!” –

because he sprouted his little pigeon feet and high-tailed it, wobbling his way through a hole in the fence and out for cover. We were cheering him on quietly from behind. “Go, go, GO!” What a show! I’m telling you, I really can’t make this stuff up …

After the pigeon show, the cocktails (yes, more) and oysters came and we settled back for a great afternoon of entertainment at the old Wharf Bar.

Yum.

The guy playing music was very entertaining as well. He was a singer/song-writer with a very dry sense of humor. He said one of the songs he wrote was inspired by a gal who used to wait tables there at the bar, and right before he began the number, which was aptly titled She Got a Butt, he said “I’m glad that ____ doesn’t work here anymore.” I’ll let you fill in the blank. He was a riot. We had a great time listening to his music and knocking back a few cocktails and a raw dozen.

We had made dinner reservations that night at another restaurant a fellow cruiser at the marina had said was his favorite on the island – 7 Fish. It was very good, excellent fish, but just not our favorite – particularly for the price point. And, unfortunately, it was very dark in there – made it difficult, even, to see what you had ordered.

We started out with some mushroom quesadillas that ended up being our favorite part of the meal. Super moist and flavorful.

I got the blue chesse gnocchi with snapper on top, and the gnocchi was a big hit. That is so hard to do well (trust me, we’ve tried!).

And Phillip got the thai snapper.

Excellent meal, but – you see what I mean – hard to see! Our bellies, hearts (and livers!) full, we mozied on back to the boat to enjoy our last night in the slip at Key West. Tomorrow morning, we would be getting up early (sunrise, likely), to ready the boat and begin making our way back across the Gulf up toward Ft. Myers. We were ready to get back out in blue waters! We were ready to make another passage! What we weren’t ready for, was another debacle on the boat, a fall that ended with a sickening thud. I warn you followers – next time, viewer discretion may be advised …

Book Swap Mojo

September 2, 2014April 2, 2015anniedike

April 26, 2014:

You might think the ferry ride back from the Dry Tortugas was a little disheartening, having to leave those idyllic islands behind, knowing we had kind of hit the mid-point of our trip, geographically, at least, but it really didn’t have that effect. “So, we’ve got to take this ferry back to Key West where our sailboat and more adventures are waiting?” Yeah, not really a downer in our opinion. We returned invigorated, excited to get back to our boat and tell her how beautiful it was on Garden Key and how much she was going to love sailing there when we come back to the Dry Tortugas. We were excited to see Key West coming up in the distance.

Phillip and I could both feel it, like a steady stream of electricity buzzing through us. There were still so many places on the island to explore! There was still so much to see and eat and do! We were itching to get off that ferry to grab our next adventure by the collar and shake it! This was our time! And, we still had plenty of time that day. The ferry returned from the Dry Tortugas around 4:00 p.m. Uhhh-huhhh. I know what you’re thinking. Happy Hour. That’s right. We’ve still got time!

We jumped in the shower quick to make it to Alonzo’s for the 50-cent oysters. I brought The Paris Wife with me to the showers so I could make my tribute to the marina book swap on the way. I finished The Paris Wife on the way to the Dry Tortugas, which was perfect, because it is a sad, poignant book. The kind that sinks into your chest and begins to swell into an ache. I found myself mad at Hemingway, hating him, but understanding him at the same time. It certainly resonated. So, it was good to shut that book and step off the ferry into crystal-green waters filled with shimmery fish clouds. The feeling the book invokes is something you want to feel, but it’s also a feeling you want to balance with fresh air and beauty. It was a day of closure it seemed, as Phillip finished In Our Time on the ferry-ride back. He said it was really interesting reading it after The Paris Wife, where you saw Hemingway create it from his wife, Hadley’s, perspective, and he liked watching the evolution of Hemingway’s writing style from In Our Time, his first book, to his later masterpieces. That one’s definitely on my list (as are many!) But, since Phillip was reading it on the way back, I dug into my back-up book swap book – a juicy little Lee Childs thriller – 61 Hours. I made it one third of the way through by the time we docked at Key West – certainly a fun, quick suspense read.

When we returned, I told Phillip I wanted to keep The Paris Wife and give it to a friend of mine back home who is an author, knowing she would appreciate the Hemingway haunt it had left me with, but he was quick to scold me. “You can’t,” he said. “You’ll ruin your book swap mojo.”

My what?!?

Yes, mojo, the Captain explained, in his infinite marina wisdom. Apparently, there is some unspoken rule in the land of marina book swaps, that if you get a good book from a marina book swap, you’ve got to give it back at another marina to ensure your continued good book karma. “Oh, alright!” I supposed I could just tell my friend about The Paris Wife and she could get her own copy. If that’s what it takes to nurture my mojo!

So, I put it back, but, I think the marina sensed my flirt with thoughts of infidelity, because I was left with the Fabio, ripped abs romance novels, and this hot little western number:

Whooo-pssshh!

Clearly my mojo was tainted. I’m glad I had a Jack Reacher number and a few other alternatives to get me to the next marina, where I hoped to find less whips and abs. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that).

Once showered, we headed to Alonzo’s Oyster Bar to enjoy another dozen 50-cent oysters and some crisp white wine in the shade. The perfect treat after a long day in the sun.

I love building the perfect bite on each cracker. A fresh oyster, just the right amount of cocktail sauce, with a little horseradish mixed in, and a squeeze of lemon on top. Follow that with a sip of chilled sauvignon blanc, repeat five times and that makes for a pretty darn happy hour for me! While I was still mad at the man for his heartbreaking treatment of Hadley, I have to say, Hemingway certainly knew how to describe the taste:

After oysters, we headed back out on the street and found ourselves once again, drawn to the breath of the Hog! Cliff Cody was belting out another Lady Gaga number at the Saloon, so we decided to stop in for a bit to check out the locals and let Cody serenade us through our first cold one(s).

Love the people-watching at Hog’s. We knocked back one or two and then made our way over to the La Trattoria for a big, Italian dinner. I mean, we’d been to the Dry Tortugas and back today. We had snorkeled with sharks! We had required first aid! Certainly, we were entitled to a decadent, four course Italian meal? We decided we were, and breezed right in.

“Table for two, please,” said the Captain.

We ordered up a great bottle of Montepulciano and the escargot.

The wine had a great pepper finish that really cut through the richness of the escargot. While it took me a couple of tries and several reiterations by the Captain for me to get the pronunciation of the wine right (had nothing to do with the alcohol intake I assure you), I finally nailed it! Mon tae pul chee ahh noh. And, I proudly showed off my Italian skills when I ordered our second bottle. Teach me to pronounce wines, and you’re just asking for trouble …

It came just in time for our salad course – a homemade caeser with whole anchovies, fresh-grated parmesan and big crunchy, spiced croutons. Superb!

But, the dish that really stole the show was the canneloni. Fresh canneloni, made in house, stuffed with ground veal and spinach and smothered in a baked tomato sauce.

Press fingers to lips and “muah!” Our big, Italian dinner was the perfect treat after a long, adventurous day. We had been to the Dry Tortugas and back – a definite milestone on our trip. But, we still had so much ahead. We still had to sail our boat all the way back to Pensacola from the Keys. If the trip back was anything as exciting as the trip down, we were in for an incredible adventure. We had one more day in the Keys, then we would set off again, back out into the open Gulf, back on night shifts, back OUT THERE!

Next Time by Sailboat

August 27, 2014August 27, 2014anniedike

April 26, 2014:

I didn’t want to cause too much of a scene getting first aid for my coral collision back at the ferry. To be honest, I truly thought if they saw the blood dripping down my leg, they might quarantine me in some cordoned-off locker on the boat. I could see myself sitting alone on one of the boat benches with yellow crime scene tape draped around me. And, you’ve seen how beautiful it was out there.

There was no WAY they were keeping me off Garden Key any longer than necessary. So, I tried to play a little coy with the ferry boy, but he was a wiley one:

Annie: “Excuse me, sir? I just need a little band-aid please.”

Ferry Boy: “What for?”

Annie (thinking to stop the gushing river from my calf): “Uhhh … it’s just a nick.”

Ferry Boy: “Lemme see.”

Annie: “No, really, it’s nothing. Nevermind. I’ll just … ”

Ferry Boy: “Just let me see it. We’ll get you doctored up and back out there in no time.”

Ahhh … Okay, I thought. Whew. They’re not going to banish me to the lower barracks. The folks on the ferry were great. They washed my bloody patch right up, smeared some Neosporin on it and sent me back out to play. Phillip and I had just about an hour left on the island, so we kicked back in the sand and continued breathing in the view.

I was really surprised by how many different types of people that had come over with us on the ferry tour. I hate to say I fully expected to see only the plump-type tourists sporting their fanny packs and fanning themselves in the heat.

“Now ya’ll get together there Edna, and say cheese!”

And, while there were a few of them, there were also plenty of others from varying nationalities. Two young ladies who rode behind us on the way there sounded like they were speaking Portugese. There were two families who looked to be Pakistani or some other middle eastern descent, and there was this one couple on the beach that really caught our eye. You know when you see beautiful people, you just can’t help but stop and stare for a minute? It was like these two had just walked by:

They laugh because they know they’re prettier than you. Ha ha ha!

But, the couple on the beach had to be European. The woman had this almost inhuman hourglass shape, long cascading dark hair and a tiny string bikini. And, the guy was sporting an even teenier speedo without an ounce of body fat on him. I know, I should have taken pictures so you could see, but we were just kind of mesmerized. And I didn’t want to play the role of creepy tourist that day. They set up a little picnic spot next to us and fed each other little niblets of prosciutto. Like I said, very European. But, it was nice to see so many different types of people, all there enjoying the same breathtaking views.

After our last hour in the sun, the ferry crew started to herd us back to the boat so we could start making the two-hour passage back to Key West. Finding the AC-chilled section of the boat to feel more like a meat locker than a luxury, Phillip and I snagged two sun chairs on the Lido deck to make the cruise home al fresco. And, the best part about the ride home was the drink service! For the cruise back, the friendly ferry crew opened up a full bar for these thirsty Tortuga go-ers! (Well, and by “full,” I mean rum, vodka and beer – but hey, rum works just fine for this Mate, so no complaints here!).

“Well, have two rum runners with an extra shot, please.”

Cheers!

We also found the view from the back deck of the ferry made the perfect backdrop for an all-out photo shoot of the Dry Tortugas! Roll that beautiful footage!

Okay, so there were SOME fanny-packers …

“Next time, we’ll be over THERE!”

“On the ole’ Rest, anchored out with the rest of the sailboats!”

I know, we (well, and by “we” I mean I) went a little crazy with the picture-taking. But, it was so frustrating trying to capture the beauty of the place, the electric green of the water, but finding the photos just didn’t do it justice. I kept snapping anyway, thinking at least the pictures would at least remind me of what it really looked like to see it in person.

There! You see that bright, neon stripe on the water? That’s how green it was! Like what I imagine the color turquoise would like look, if you were on acid. I can only imagine …

We watched as the last white spits of land disappear on the horizon,

before settling into our sun chairs and kicking back for the cruise home. We read, napped, ordered two more rum runners, read and napped some more while the boat cruised along at 28 knots. While we will definitely be coming back to this pristine place someday on the s/v Plaintiff’s Rest, it was kind of nice to make the trip there and back in one day on the comfort of a big steaming ferry.

While the trip there by sailboat is typically about a 15 hour-passage, that is–as is everything with sailing–assuming good weather and a favorable sea state. Case in point, the day after we came and went to the Dry Tortugas via ferry, our buddy Johnny Walker (there he is!)

who made the trip from Ft. Myers Beach down to Key West with us, headed out to the Dry Tortugas from Key West on his 38′ Morgan. And while it was a quick, 14-hour sail there, the sail back turned out to be a 24-hour, 4-6 foot beatdown. The auto-pilot wouldn’t hold and Johnny pretty much had to hold the wheel the entire time. Did I also mention that Johnny is just a few months shy of 72 and still out there sailing like a hellion? A total badass, that one! But, he said it was exhausting. A really rough trip. So, while we do plan to make the trip from Key West to the Dry Tortugas on the Plaintiff’s Rest some day, we know we’ll have to plan at least a week or more to time the weather and sea-state right and really enjoy the trip.

Besides, an adventure like that is not something you want to rush anyway …

Next time!

The Dry Tortugas!

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014anniedike

April 26, 2014:

That’s right, the westernmost point of the Florida Keys, the furthest island out, the Dry Tortugas! This was the day! When we set off some three weeks prior from Pensacola on this maiden voyage to the Keys, we had originally planned to sail to the Dry Tortugas. We really wanted to make it all the way there via the s/v Plaintiff’s Rest, but we knew when we set off that it might not happen. The Dry Tortugas are another 70 miles west of Key West, so about another 15-20 hour passage there, depending on the sea-state and weather, and then another 15-20 hours back. So, to spend a few days anchored out at the Dry Tortugas would add another 5-6 days to our already-extended trip. All evidence to the contrary (and until we hit it big with the Powerball), we do still have day jobs we had to get back to. But, we weren’t going to let that stop us from seeing one of the most pristine islands in the states. We booked a ferry and set off:

And, you may laugh at this, but I have to say, riding on that ferry kind of blew my mind. We had just traveled some 550 miles at the average speed of 4.5 knots. If we “broke six” on the sailboat, we were making some real time. And, now, here we were on this big ass ferry doing 29 knots. We were flying!

I looked like a goofy dog hanging his head out the back window as we ripped across the Gulf.

“Jeepers, Captain! Look at us go!”

I couldn’t stop staring over the side of the boat!

It really was a strange sensation, though, to be moving SO fast across the water when we had been harnessing the power of the wind for most of our voyage, slowly cruising across the Gulf, picking our way along the coast to avoid the shoals and crab pods. Oh, and the crab pods! I had been so trained while we were sailing to keep a squinted eye out along the horizon for them, that the first one I saw as we were rushing through the water on the ferry, I nudged Phillip and pointed it out. But, before I could get out the words, “Look, Phillip a crab … “ zwhoop! There it went. Sucked right up under the ferry. Dodge crab pods? Please. These people had places to go! It was crazy to see the ferry just mow a path right through them when we had taken such care all through the Gulf to gingerly pick our way around them. Big. Fast. Motorboats. That certainly was new to us.

But, cruising on the ferry was pretty nice. We left around 8:00 a.m., and they had a little breakfast buffet spread out for us. The typical kind of hotel continental breakfast food (bagels, cream cheese, toast, bright yellow fluff eggs) but it was air-conditioned inside the galley and there were plenty of places to curl up with a book and just relax. I finished The Paris Wife, which we had picked up at the book swap in Port St. Joe. It was somewhat of a tragic, but touching read. Incredibly creative historical fiction viewpoint through the eyes of Hemingway’s first wife. Highly recommend it. And, Phillip dug into In Our Time – the bikini sprint birthday book. We enjoyed sipping our coffee and reading while we cruised along. Around mid-morning, we started to spot some islands on the horizon.

And, then she started to come into view.

Fort Jefferson.

I couldn’t believe the color of the water around her–so bright it was almost electric. This piercing, neon green. These photos can’t even begin to capture it. It’s hard to take your eyes off of it, it’s so striking.

Just as we were pulling in, a sea plane landed.

And, then I saw the sign:

Ha! What a laugh. It should just say: <— Poor Folk Millionaires —>

When the ferry docked, we were free to explore. Both Phillip and I were a little hesitant when we first booked the ferry because we really would have liked to have come to this beautiful island on our own sailboat and explored at our leisure. Having to follow the rest of the fanny-pack clad tourists along, brochure in hand, being lead every step of the way by a verbose tour guide, is not how we wanted to experience this pristine landscape. But, I will say, the folks running this ferry tour did a great job of allowing us the freedom and flexibility to experience the island on our own terms. The ferry docked around 11:00 a.m. and a lunch spread was laid out. You were then given the choice to either follow the formal tour guide, brochure in hand, and get a detailed history of the fort or you could explore on your own. And, you didn’t have to eat lunch on the boat. (You could if you wanted to, and many did because it was air-conditioned.) But, you were also free to pack your own sandwiches and snacks up and set up your own picnic style lunch wherever you wanted on the island. Snorkel gear was available in all sizes. You could just check it out and bring it back at your leisure. It was really a great “hands-off” approach to a tour.

Once the ferry docked, we set off for the Fort.

It reminded me a lot of Fort Pickens back in Pensacola. Lots of underground artillery bunkers, windows set up with a swivel gun for firing, twisted corridors and barracks for storage.

We came across some neat finds while we were down there:

One of the makeshift boats they used to cross from Cuba.

An old Fort tower, lighthouse-slash-lookout.

We also learned some really interesting history about the Fort while we were poking around. While I had a sinking suspicion that the name of the island had something to do with turtles (and I envisioned a Sir Francis Drake-like character stumbling upon a sea turtle-infested spit of land), I also know I have a tendency to make these type of silly connections on my own initiative that have nothing to do with reality, so I never spoke of it, but alas it was confirmed! We learned that Ponce de Leon discovered the islands in 1513 and named them the Tortugas (which does mean turtle in Spanish) because of the hundreds of sea turtles he and his men found along the islands and shoals. The Dry was added to let other explorers know there were no springs here. It was a pretty rough environment for voyagers. After 30 years on Garden Key, and due to an excruciating lack of sufficient supplies and provisions, the U.S. decided to forego the completion of Fort Jefferson, and it remained abandoned until the late 1800’s when it was used as a prison for a brief stint. I could totally see that.

The place was pretty barren. And, there’s not really anywhere you could go assuming you did escape. It is kind of out there on its own in the middle of the Gulf.

We made it up to the top wall and found a great view of the entire island.

We could see out to the anchorage, too, where we would someday be dropping our hook.

The Captain looked out across the boats, a sigh and a dreamy glaze in his eye.

“We’re going to be right there,” he’d tell me. “Right there … ” And, we will. I can assure you. Next time we come to the Dry Tortugas, the Plaintiff’s Rest will be resting her tired hull right there!

But, we were thrilled also to be there by ferry. No matter how we got there, it was too beautiful not to enjoy.

The water, again, is what continued to captivate me. A glowing turquoise.

Being the rogue travel rebels we are, we decided to pack up a lunch and eat on the wall that forms the moat around the Fort.

“Moat seating for two, please?”

With a view like that, I don’t think I’ve ever had a ham sandwich that tasted that good. We were fine dining al fresco! You could lean over the wall and look down at the water and see all kind of fish and marine activity.

We saw so much wildlife that day. Even whales!

So tame they would just float right by!

We had a great time picnicking on the moat. We could have sat there all day … But, you know us. Not much for sitting. We like to go, see and do! So, it was time to see what this crystal green water was all about!

“Lose those clothes, Mate! It’s time to get in!”

“Roger that, Cap’n!”

We snapped up some snorkel gear and set to it.

I have only snorkeled a handful of times in my life, so I’m positively spoiled now. Sorry Captain – you created this monster. Because, the snorkeling there, at the Dry Tortugas, was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Not six inches below the waterline and you could see a whole spectrum of colors and coral and wildlife.

There were tons of coral heads just teeming with life. Many of them had these little (I’m struggling to describe it) swirly poof things, kind of like a flower blossom, that stuck out of them and when you swished your hand by them, they would suck back in to the coral. You wouldn’t even have known they were alive, until you awakened them with a swish of water. It was the coolest thing.

We snorkeled around the moat wall and then headed out about 100 yards off the western side of the island to the coral heads. Phillip had a real eye for the wildlife and he pointed out a huge grouper, even a nurse shark. I know what they say about sharks – don’t bother them and they won’t bother you – but I’ll say I kicked away slowly and steadily, keeping my eye on that guy. This is one Mate who had no desire to be shark bait that day. We snorkeled around for an hour or so and then kicked back on the beach to bask in the sun.

After a short rest, we decided to walk along the moat wall around to the south side of the island to snorkel around the pilings. The walk alone was beautiful enough,

but, I got really excited when I saw the pilings.

Can you imagine the marine life we’re going to find in there? Let me tell you, you can’t. You just have to see it. We dove in, and it felt like we were swimming in a dream. Clouds of fish would swirl around you until you poked your finger out and swished them apart like a puff of air. There were hundreds, thousands of them, swimming together and swirling around like some chained piece of jewelry. It was mesmerizing.

So much so I forgot I was even human. Legs? What legs? I don’t have appendages, I’m a fish! The sting of it surprised me when it struck and I snorkeled around for a bit in denial. Throbbing leg? What throbbing leg? There are fish to be seen and poked! But Phillip rightly pulled me out when a light, murky cloud started to form around me. I did mention the shark, right?

Break out the old first aid kit … First Mate done got into something again!

And Then the Roosters Came

August 14, 2014August 14, 2014anniedike

April 25, 2014:

Okay, I’m going to be honest. We awoke from the previous day’s Big FOUR-OH in a bit of a drunken slumber. The sun rose, we moaned and groaned our way back into the upright position and stumbled our way back over to the Cuban Coffee Hut,

to do more stupid things … but not faster. With the vast quantities of rum and tequila still swimming in our veins, three Cuban coffee queens and we would still only be doing things at normal stupid human speed. But, we were Day One into Phillip’s second forty years and still on the hunt for new adventures in Key West. It seemed everywhere we walked there were plenty of interesting sites and scenes to take in.

“What the truck?!?”

“Don’t dredge on me!” it says. You gotta love the quirky conch personalities on this little island. Take this for example.

I know you see her. That pirate-clad pixie up in the upstairs window. What’s she sayin?

“Help me!”

Uhh-uuhhh Miss Sparrow. You got yourself commandeered up there. We want no part of your pirate drama! But, do feel free to show us some pirate booty!

I know, I know …

Speaking of, while we were mozeying around downtown, I got to show Phillip the little hole-in-the-wall bookstore where I stormed in during my first blaze down Duval Street to get his birthday book. For some reason, the Captain didn’t think that story was funny the fifth time I told it … “C’mon, that’s good stuff! Wait till I write up the blog on it!”

But, a couple of coffees down and now on the hunt for lunch, right around the corner we found our haven. A pink stucco gas station-turned-Cuban Caribbean eatery! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Paseo’s!

Take it in …

Phillip ordered up a hot pressed Cuban sandwich,

and I got the Paseo’s Greens bowl.

Basically, a huge Carribean bowl filled with pickled beets, cabbage, and piled high with the most succulent chicken thighs I have ever put in my mouth.

And … I’m a champion wing eater! That chicken was so moist I started to think they had to be wringing their necks out behind by the building upon order and roasting them up in house. And, then my suspicious were confirmed! Because …

... that’s when the roosters came!

They were clucking around all over the place!

Even little baby ones!

Right by my feet!

“Those must be the thighs I ordered! Grab ’em Pedro!”

The roosters really started to rally the troops when our shared side came out – a whole roasted ear of corn (still in the shuck), slathered with seasoned sour cream and topped with fresh chopped cilantro.

I mean …

The Captain and I ate ourselves just about sick. It was hard to sit upright after we finished. A good fifteen minutes after our meal, and we were still kicked back under the gas station awning, picking corn from our teeth and letting the misters spray us down.

Ahhh …

After that meal, we were stuffed! We headed back to the boat to nap it off. Because that’s what you do in Key West. Drink, eat and nap. In that order. Oh, and wash your boat. We did that, too. Since the previous day had been devoted entirely to celebratory matters, we spent most of the afternoon getting our boat chores done – filling the tanks with water, filling our spare diesel cans and giving the boat a good, long scrub-down. She was literally caked with salt from the passage. You could physically see it on the handrails and stanchions. Our girl was itching for a bath. And, it was a hot day to do it, but there’s just something about getting that boat all cleaned up, even in the sweaty heat of day, that’s truly rewarding. We showered up afterward, too, and the boat and crew all felt better for it.

As you may recall, we had plans that night to have dinner with our buddy Postal Bob on his Catalina 34. Remember, we had the mackerel, he had the shark, and Captain Ron was coming with the yellowfin tuna!

Bob invited us over around dusk to start with some sundowners and tall tales at sea.

“C’mon on board!”

And, there’s Johnny, too! Mr. Walker and his son made the trip from Ft. Myers to Key West with us on his 38′ Morgan, the s/v Windwalker. Bob’s boat was set up perfect for hosting. A big spread was laid out in the cockpit, a full bar was opened to everyone below. Bob had a specified “beer cooler” in the cockpit full of brewskies and he was working on a four-course feast when we arrived! Not to mention his boat. Gees! It was like a condo at the marina. He had A/C, a microwave, TV … That’s living! We sat down below in the A/C for about all of fifteen minutes before our teeth were chattering. It seems we had fully acclimated and preferred to dine al fresco. It was a beautiful evening out anyway, and the cockpit is just always a great place to gather.

There’s the Windwalker/Plaintiff’s Rest crew. Johnny next to me, and his son, Jeremy, next to Phillip. They were a lot of fun and, thankfully, they hadn’t yet heard all of my crazy stories.

“No, wait, wait. Let me tell you boys about my bikini sprint to the bookstore … “

Bob was such a generous host, too. He did all of the prep work himself down below and plated everything up while we were visiting in the cockpit.

“You keep passing drinks up here and we’re going to want some dinner to go with it!” I call it the “Give a Mouse a Cookie” phenomenon. But Bob had us covered. He cooked up the mackerel we had caught on the way down to the Keys (yes, we still had plenty enough left over to feed the whole crew). That was one big fish!

And, Bob taught us a great trick about mackerel, too. We had cooked up a few filets our first night in the Keys and while it was good, it had turned out a bit more meaty, a little tougher, than other fresh fish we had caught and cooked up. But, Bob said “just soak it in milk!” He let the filets we brought over soak for a bit before he grilled them up, and that did the trick!

That mackerel was perfect. And, Bob had made beans and rice, a salad with fresh grated parmesan and grilled zucchini and squash! See? A four-course meal … pretty much. Certainly a fit feast for a boat. We passed a few plates around and this crew didn’t wait to dig in!

“Thanks Bob!”

It was a great night spent with great fellow sailors down in the Keys. Phillip and I really felt like two of the group. We were cruisers now! We watched a beautiful sunset from the dock while we polished off the mackerel and another round of drinks.

We decided to call it an early night because we had a big day the next day. The biggest of the whole trip perhaps (aside from the Captain’s birthday).

Where were we going tomorrow you ask?? I’ll let you wager a guess …

The Big FOUR-OH

August 8, 2014August 7, 2014anniedike

Thursday – April 24, 2014:

A BIG day for Phillip. And, a BIG day for us. Waking up in the Keys. Does it get any better? After taking in the carnie sights and sunset at Mallory Square and cooking up our fresh-caught mackerel the evening before, we woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Phillip’s birthday – ready to paint the island red! Like any other thirsty sailor, we headed out for our first drink of the day – COFFEE! Not a few blocks from the boat, we ran into none other than Postal Bob! That man was everywhere. He told us we needed to try this great little Cuban coffee stand just a few blocks over and we started putting together some plans to have dinner on his boat the following evening. Still having plenty left from our hefty Gulf catch, we said we could bring mackerel. Bob said he had some shark. And, then this salty surfer looking dude …

Yeah, something like that

who was just randomly walking by said “Well, I’ve got some yellowfin tuna I can bring. Where we meeting?” You gotta love the Keys!

We bid Bob farewell and headed over to the famous Cuban Coffee Queen hut.

Not a bad little jaunt from the boat. And, in addition to the yellowfin tuna guy, there were plenty of quirky little Key West sights to take in along the way.

Two hundred miles from everywhere!

The sight at the coffee hut certainly had that authentic Cuban charm. There were roosters clucking around. Coffee runners (each of whom seemed to sport the same style dreads and flip-flops) loading up mopeds to go make Cuban Coffee Queen deliveries. A line of folks waiting for their coffee and breakfast sandwiches. This was definitely the happening coffee spot!

The guy at the counter cracked us up, too. We didn’t see any orange juice on the menu so Phillip asked “Do you have any OJ?” The guy sloshed around a huge vat of juice for us to see, which wasn’t really an answer, so Phillip asked “Is it for sale?” To which the sweaty Cuban coffee clerk replied, “Sir, everything’s for sale. I’ll sell you the shirt off my back if you want it.” I liked that guy.

We got two piping cups of Cuban coffee and an awesome pressed Cuban sandwich.

Yum!

Even the merchandise seemed to have a good sense of humor.

We were definitely pleased. The coffee hut was going to be our regular stop every morning for sure! After coffee we ventured back toward the north side of the island near Mallory Square, where we found some great sculptures and tourist pieces.

This whimsical number is located near the Custom’s House and is intended, I presume, to be a boy dreaming about … well what all boys dream about.

I decided to take some liberties and show him a little bit of the real deal …

But he couldn’t handle it!

And, besides, this guy was painting the scene while we were there, so I didn’t want to taint his muse.

But, being a sculpture too, he seemed to also be impervious to my charms.

Thankfully, this man is not!

There were a ton of great “touristy things” to check out near the Square.

Which makes sense. That’s right where the cruise boats come in.

Not so big from afar.

After the Square, we headed over to the north side of the island to check out some of the houses and gated properties. The other side of the tracks I guess you would say. No roosters clucking around or grungy coffee runners on mopeds here. This part of town was pristine.

The houses were gorgeous. Bright local brush and flowers spilled over every fence and seemed to reach out for you. We scoped out a few lunch spots but decided to head over to Hemingway’s House and do the tour first.

Come on in!

We got lucky and scored an exceptional tour guide. This young, bright-eyed college-looking kid, but he was super knowledgeable about all things Hemingway, and he had a real passion for sharing the trouble writer’s story and pointing out so many little idiosyncrasies about the house and its former (and current!) inhabitants.

Have you ever heard of the six-toed cats? It seems some cats that came over on ships developed a sixth toe (making them polydactyl), and those that did were sought after for their improved mice-catching capabilities. Apparently Hemingway also developed a bit of fondness for the finger-favored felines and started a small collection. The house is now home to about 40-50 six-toed cats. That’s like 1,200 toes!

The cats are lying around all over the house, completely oblivious to the hundreds of tourists passing through.

I mean, I wouldn’t give much mind to us either. We’re just walking around staring all of the time. These cats have their own personal veterinarian who comes to check on them all, make sure they’re properly fed, cared for and maintained. So, yeah, all they have to do is lie around and snooze. What a life!

One of my favorite parts about the tour was the story of Hemingway’s “Last Red Cent!” It seems Hemingway’s second wife, Pauline, was none too pleased with Hemingway’s constant travels as a war correspondent, probably because it also helped to foster his philandering ways, so she had a $330,000 (in today’s dollars) pool built while he was away.

Legend has it when Hemingway returned from the Spanish Civil War and learned of Pauline’s pricey pool, he threw a penny at her and said, “Well you might as well have my last red cent!” Pauline was happy to. She claimed that and plenty more when the couple later divorced, and she had the cent embedded in glass near the pool to show her friends when she hosted grand cocktail parties by the pool.

Take that Hemingway! Plenty more stories about Hemingway’s House if you’re interested HERE.

But, I have to say, my ACTUAL favorite part was Hemingway’s office. He had a suite built out where he would spend the better part of the day every morning toiling away on this vicious craft. Writing can be so exciting, so invigorating one day, and so draining and absolutely depressing the next. It’s a terrible burden to know you’ve written something that can be better, but also a blessing to know that you can write it better – if you’re willing to sit down and push yourself there. If you have it, which Hemingway, certainly did, it’s a torturous gift, and it certainly tortured him. It was incredibly humbling for me to see the actual room where Hemingway chipped away at the same stone.

After Hemingway’s house we were famished. We decided to dine at a little Creperia we had passed along the way. La Creperia.

And … Oh. My. Gosh. The best crepe I have ever had. By far. Hands down. No questions about it. Not mine – I ordered the La Campagnarde:

(frisee, lardons, tomatoes, potatoes, shallots, egg over easy, with a red wine vinaigrette), which was good, but Phillip ordered one with chicken, spinach, mushrooms and this decadent bechamel sauce. It tasted like creamy white country gravy melted with cheese and poured over succulent chicken. I don’t have any pictures of it because we tore right into it and devoured it in seconds. My phone never stood a chance of getting in there. The crepes are still ranked to this day one of our top meals on the trip. It was a perfect little bistro setting, too. We sat outside at a cute little rod-iron table, sipped mimosas and ate our fill!

After our gluttonous lunch, we decided to do what any fat, full tourists in Key West would do — lounge it off, sipping cocktails at the pool all afternoon!

“Two cabana chairs, please! And a drink menu!”

I did capture some fun shots on the way, of the Schooner Wharf Bar,

(we’ll be stopping in there later in the week), the dinghy dock,

(yes, that’s just for the dinghies!), and some seriously old salts hanging out at the dock,

(watch out National Geographic, here I come!) before we made it to the pool. But, make it we finally did!

Ahhhh … that’s better! We were on Cloud Nine all afternoon, just watching the people, reading (I finished The Paris Wife there!) and napping.

Sexy beast!

And, we had some serious entertainment at the pool. There was a noisy, bachelorette bunch near us that underwent complete military-style invasion. There were five girls, hovering around the obvious bride in the center, all laughing and giggling and taking selfies, and you could see this bunch of Ed Hardy-type muscle-bound dudes behind them planning their attack. First, the guys sent over a tray of shots to the ladies, who downed them no problem, with giggles and hiccups and a swipe of the chin (“tee heee! I love buttery nipples!”) but still no penetrable chink in their armor. So, the dudes then sent a drink over – to the bride – smart move and then they started to flank them, one-by-one, approaching with drinks in hand. One guy came toward their circle via the pool and started distracting an obvious weak gazelle on the outer rim. She engaged and started swimming around with Mr. Muscle which left an opening for Guy No. 2 to saunter over. He made his way in and started trying on the next gal’s shades and complimenting her on her style. That soldier fell fast too. They were dropping like flies, leaving the bride pretty open and exposed. We watched each tactical maneuver, commenting and narrating over the rims of our rum drinks – of course, until the guys had completely infiltrated. We were actually impressed. Maybe these guys had a chance, but Phillip called it. “Please? A bachelorette party? Those are the worst odds.” And, he was totally right. A couple of hours later, having burned through a couple-hundred dollar bar tab, I’m sure, the ladies packed up shop, huddled around their bride and marched right off, leaving the chumps behind. It was … awesome!

After a nice, relaxing afternoon by the pool, we decided to stop on our way back to the boat at Alonzo’s Oyster Bar for happy hour and try their 50-cent oysters Postal Bob had been telling us about.

Nothing like a salty oyster and an ice cold glass of white wine to remind you you’re a sailor in love with the sea.

For Phillip’s birthday, we had made reservations at this place called Santiago’s Bodega that we had scoped out the previous day during our conch train tour adventure. We cleaned up around dusk and headed back out on the town for more drinks, of course, before dinner. A little buzzed and definitely feeling a little frisky, we walked the docks waving at all of our marina neighbors and eyeing all of the big yachts we would never be able to afford.

Phillip looked like a kid in a candy store, a goofy smile spread across his face, nudging me and pointing at each one, “Look at that one.” “Hey, did you see this one?” “Check that out!” He was definitely spending some daydream dollars!

Maybe for your fiftieth Captain. … Maybe.

Once we snapped out of it and made our way off the docks, we found ourselves strangely drawn to the scent of Hog’s Breath!

A big guy clutching a guitar was actually singing a Lady Gaga song, Poker Face, as we walked by and we knew this was going to be a treat. His name was Cliff Cody. We saw him there several times during our stay in the Keys, and I swear if you closed your eyes and just listened, you would think you were sitting three feet from Travis Tritt. Cliff sounded JUST like him. The guy was pretty incredible.

But, it was time for dinner! We headed over to Santiago’s and started a seven course tapas feast!

Croquettes, then salad, empanadas, stuffed dates, roast duck … It was a feast fit for kings. Or, fit for the Captain I suppose. We had certainly made a day of it. For a man that craves adventure, I think having sailed his boat all the way down to the Keys with a pretty rough-and-tumble First Mate, who can thankfully pass for pretty some days too, Phillip was feeling pretty content. I know I was – it felt like it had been my birthday too. It seems like we shared it. Such an incredible feat to accomplish sailing down there and such a luxurious day of food, wine and fun to celebrate it.

But, did I say the man craves adventure? I believe so. Two bottles of wine behind us, and this man decides he wants to go on a mission to find the “BEST key lime pie on the island.” “The BEST,” he says. “It has to be the best. Let’s GO!”

And, go we did. We hit Duval in a drunken fury, dancing and singing and poking strangers. We were a riot, and the night was young!!

“Ceeee-lebrate good times, C’MON!” Happy Birthday Captain!

A “Sloppy” Sunset at Mallory Square

July 29, 2014anniedike

April 23, 2014:

It had been 20 days, 5 overnight passages and 550 nautical miles, a busted Jenny shackle, a beat-down outside of Charlotte Harbor, and we were finally here – KEY WEST. We were ready to take that town by the cahones! All hail the fighting conchs! And, it seemed fate wanted us there. She’d been expecting us. Because the minute we backed in to our slip at the A&B Marina, we had a buddy there to greet us – Postal Bob! No, not because he is – or had ever – gone “postal,” because he used to BE postal. Bob retired from the good ole’ USPS and now sails his 34 Catalina down to Key West and beyond every year. A sharp sailor, super generous and knowledgeable about the area, and just all-around a great guy. Here he is:

Bob was the perfect tour guide for our first steps off the boat. He showed us around the marina and gave us the inside scoop on the best dives, the coolest beach bars, the marina and the facilities (four free washers and dryers and four locking bathroom/shower suites) – Suite! He also made sure to point out the place where they serve 50-cent oysters at happy hour. I mean … is there really anything better? You’re right – a cocktail … perhaps:

That was certainly on our radar. We spruced up immediately and hit the closest food joint we could find – Alonzo’s Oyster Bar – not 100 yards from the boat!

“We’ll start with mojitos and your oyster platter, please.”

The oysters were delicious – they did them up three ways on the platter – rockefeller, baked with garlic and parmesan, and buffalo style. The mojitos weren’t too shabby either.

Cheers!

But, that was, of course, just for starters. I mean, we HAD been sailing for about 30 hours. We were ready for a full-on, three-course landlubber meal. The catch of the day – Mahi Mahi – done two ways – grilled with rice pilaf and garlic green beans, and

in a juicy wrap with fresh tomatoes and some secret Alonzo’s sauce – YUM!

Full of fish and rum, we were ready to explore! We found the famous conch train tour and decided it was probably the best way to get a good layout of the island right out of the gate and learn some interesting facts about the architecture, tourist attractions and history of the area.

All Aboard!

Our tour guide really cracked me up, though. He had the most smooth, buttery voice, and every old house or monument he pointed out in the town was “just lovely,” “divine” or “quite keen, don’t you think?” I would bet if someone lit themselves on fire on the back of the train and started jumping around, he would reply calmly, “Please be sure to contain your flames and exit carefully off the back of the train. Oh, and have a lovely day!” He cracked me up.

But, he was an excellent tour guide. Along the way, he showed us the Southernmost Point of the United States:

Hemingway’s House (that was definitely going on the list):

And some of the most picturesque houses on the island:

Once we had our bearings, we set out on foot and found Mile Marker Zero – the Southern End of U.S. Highway 1.

We also found some not-so-famous, but just-as-fun, monuments as well.

Oh my! Is that the REAL Marilyn, or are you just blowing smoke up my skirt?

Well, you know how us sailors like wind!

We walked to several end-points on the island just to admire the view of the coast.

It was particularly liberating looking out at the Southernmost Point – to look across the water and know the next dry shore was a-whole-nother country. Cuba! We had really brought our Niagara 35′ all the way to the southern tip of the United States. Certainly that was worth celebrating!

And, you know how the Crew of the Rest like to celebrate … that’s right. With a hearty drink! It was time to get sloppy!

We’d heard a lot about this place. Sloppy Joe’s Bar. It was apparently Hemingway’s Hangout back when he used to traipse around Key West, a sloshing drink in one hand and the wadded clutches of a fiesty chap’s collar in another. While we weren’t planning to get that sloppy (at least not yet!) we were hell-bent on stopping in to have one or two, or a few!

Sloppy’s was definitely our kind of salty, sea-bar place. It reminded me a lot of Pirate’s Cove down in our neck of the woods. You remember Jerry Garcia and the Riff-Raff?

We settled in nicely at the bar, and I found the “Sloppy Rita” suited me just fine.

And, Phillip had no qualms downing a pink drink!

Probably because this chick poured it:

How you doin’?

We had a great time hanging at the bar, watching the Key West wildlife and cheersing each other on making yet another successful passage. We ordered another round and then things got … well … a little sloppy:

Nice drunken pic!

Still upright and mobile, though, we decided to stumble on over to Mallory Square where the Captain knew they put on quite a carnie sideshow show every evening at sunset.

It reminded me a lot of Clearwater and the panty-dropping time we had there! It was literally just a few blocks from the boat:

With loads of street performers, tourists and lookie-loos. Total entertainment.

The sunset was “quite keen” as well:

It was a great first venture out in our new locale. Key West … What a sight! After watching the sun dip out of sight, we made our way back to the boat and decided to grill up the massive king mackerel we had caught on our way down there. You remember him:

What better way to honor the poor fish we’d ripped out of the Gulf than to haul him all the way to Key West and grill him up on our boat our first night there!

I guess you could call it a moveable feast!

The mackerel turned out excellent. The Captain grilled it to perfection and we just added a little butter and lemon. With fish that fresh, that’s really all you need. We crashed hard on the boat that night, thankful to have made the overnight passage safely to the Keys, and grateful to be, now, safe and secure at the dock, able to sleep through the entire night. No night shifts tonight! We had made it! And, tomorrow was going to be a big day for us. Day two on the island, Hemingway’s House on the agenda and a pretty significant leaf for the Captain to turn over. The big Four-Oh. So much in store!

You’za Fine Sailing Vessel, Won’t You BACK That Thing Up!

July 23, 2014July 23, 2014anniedike

April 23, 2014:

Well, now you are familiar with our night shifts, and my goggle-wearing, Cookie Monster, dance party antics up in the cockpit in the middle of the night. (But, really, does such behavior from me in any way surprise you?)

She’s just a tad cray …

But, thankfully, our night passage from Ft. Myers Beach with Johnny to the Keys was our calmest yet. No beating our way across the Gulf, no fighting for every inch of ground, no pulling out and making a risky night entrance into a difficult pass. Thankfully, none of that! It was a perfect night. The wind held all evening and we were on an easy broad reach, averaging six knots, until daybreak. The stars that night were mesmerizing. There really was no need for dancing or snacking. You could just sit and look out on the twinkling sky and think all night long – in complete contentment. It was such a rewarding, peaceful passage, it almost felt unfair to have it followed by a breathtaking sunrise.

We were definitely in our element that morning, watching the sun creep up over every inch of the boat.

Johnny was behind us – bringing up the rear!

We sailed until around 7:00 a.m. when the wind finally died out and we had to crank up. But she cranked just fine and was running like Rocky Balboa that morning.

We were so proud of that engine!

That boat was cruising right along. And, so were the dolphins! We had a pack of them racing each other up at the bow as we were making our way in.

I did attempt to take some fun footage, but I believe there was a bit of operator error. It’s just a little blurry, and just a little upside down. No big deal. For your viewing pleasure – the dolphins are definitely worth it:

Johnny lead the way as we motored into the channel.

It was about an hour and a half through the channel in to Key West Bight.

There she is! The Bight!

We were going to be staying at the A&B Marina.

The only problem with the A&B Marina was that you had to back in.

See? All of the boats are backed in. It was a “stern-to” configuration. There are no finger docks between the boats, nothing to space them apart other than the tie-up poles. The boats are literally about two feet apart. It was definitely going to be tight!

While the stern-to docking definitely has its perks (easy boarding and loading of supplies via the cockpit, easy access to power, easy leaving), it was definitely not going to be so easy coming. We were going to have to make a backwards entry! Yipes!

The A&B Marina even had a whole section on their website devoted to the stern-to approach and docking, complete with a diagram:

and video:

This was serious business. Phillip dropped this little nugget on me somewhere between Ft. Myers and Key West and, I have to say, I was a little uneasy about it. With my history of docking debacles, I get a little apprehensive when we’re about to attempt a bit of a hairy one (okay, attempt one at all). But, I mean, I feel like I try really hard. I jump around a lot and move real fast and squeal. Like a …

But somehow it doesn’t qualify as very helpful for the whole docking process.

In all seriousness, though, I am getting better. But, it doesn’t mean my heart’s not racing the entire time (or that I’m not jumping a little and squealing – I still do that). This time, though, I was determined. I was going to nail it! I was going to lasso those poles while Phillip backed her in. No problem. I grew up country remember?

I can lasso anything!

Yee-haw!

Unfortunately, despite the similarity in the name, I certainly wasn’t clad in fringe and leather, and didn’t look quite so badass in my lasso attempts. Let’s just say I did try. Very hard. But those poles are like 50 feet out! I’m not kidding. Every slip at A&B is set up for an 80-foot yacht, if not bigger. We seriously had to tie two dock lines together to make a springer that would reach those poles! But, the Captain did an incredible job of backing her in. It was his first time to do that, and I was able to hold on to the guide ropes and catch a pole later so that we could get her nice and secure.

There she is! The ole’ Rest, resting her tired lines at Key West! What a treat! We had made it all the way down there. And she was easily the smallest boat in the marina, but she had, by far, the biggest heart! She wasn’t shy at all. It seemed she kicked back and inched her mast up just a little higher to fit in with the Big Dogs. We were so proud of her! We couldn’t wait to get out and explore — well, shower first, we HAD been at sea sailing, fishing, and what-not for a day and a half — but after that … we were going to take the Key by storm!