Good Grub – Page 3 – Have Wind Will Travel

The Whole World … and Only Carrabelle’s Got It

November 25, 2014November 24, 2014anniedike

May 7, 2014:

If we were trying to avoid an aerial bomb strike, you would think coming in under nightfall, might be a good idea. But, I’ve said it several time before and don’t mind repeating it — we do not like to come into a pass at night, and we try to avoid it on every occasion. Unfortunately, with the absolute lack of wind and continued motoring throughout the night, we were slated to make it to the East Pass into Apalachicola Bay a little earlier than we had intended – around 4:00 a.m.

Not yet daylight. So, we bobbed around in the Gulf for about an hour to allow the sun to rise, so we could safely see all of the markers and make it into the Bay.

There she comes! And, see?? With the sun, we can SEE the markers!

We could see land, too! We had left Venice around 10:00 a.m. two days prior and had made it safely once again across the Gulf of Mexico. No small feat.

It was unfortunate that we’d had to motor most of the way. 36 out of the approximate 43 hours were spent with our engine churning away under the cabin. Ironically, that’s about the exact same way we made the Gulf crossing the last time from Clearwater to Carrabelle. An approximate 36-hour engine run, and the heroic hacking-off of the dinghy mid-Gulf. Like I said — crossing the Gulf without issue — no small feat. But, this time we were determined not to the let the 36-hour motor-crossing get the best of our old Westerbeke. If you recall, the year prior, the daunting motor across the Gulf of Mexico had unexpectedly drained our engine of her last drop of transmission fluid and she locked up the next day as we were trying to motor out of the Carrabelle River … the tight, narrow, obstacle-lined river. Fine time to lose engine power. We vowed this time once we got her docked safe and secure in Carrabelle, the first part of that boat that was going to get some good ole TLC was the engine! That is, of course, after the crew got some sleep.

We made it into the river just fine this time during the day. It was nostalgic for me to come back in and see it now, as a somewhat experienced sailor, and remember how I had viewed it then during that first Gulf Crossing and my very first passage on a sailboat, period. I realized how oblivious I had been the year before to everything that was going on. Markers, depth, wind, current. Not that I was sitting around painting my nails or anything, I had spent a good part of that trip taking care of our overtly sea-sick Second Mate, helping Phillip to the best of my ability and cooking and cleaning, but I didn’t really have much involvement in the actual sailing. Well, this time I did. It was Phillip and I. That was it. And, we were coming in to dock once again at the Moorings Marina.

I knew this time, as well, from our first entry into the Carrabelle River, that you have to stay to the right of the river. And, by right, I mean waaaayy over to the right, almost hugging the docks on the starboard side. Last time, we had come in under nightfall and run aground just after the bend in the river. Right … about … here:

I know. The Carrabelle River had not been good to us last time. We were hoping for some better River karma this time around.

And, thankfully, the River welcomed us with open arms.

We made it in around 9:00 a.m. stayed to the RIGHT of the river and clear of the bottom, fueled up, docked up and went immediately to sleep. We’d been two days at sea, on two-hour night shifts two nights in a row, had survived multiple encounters with creepy Gulf alien vessels and an aerial bomb strike. Needless to say, we were tired!

But, the minute we woke, our first order of business was the engine. That run across the Gulf had certainly burned up a good bit of her precious black gold. Our faithful Westerbeke got a complete oil drain and change that day, which, thanks to the nifty hand-pump canister we picked up from the Back Door Marine Supply Guy in St. Pete, we were able to do easily and cleanly on the boat.

Our previous owner, Jack, also converted the old horizontal oil filter mount to a vertical one to avoid the messy oil dump into the bilge when the filter is removed.

Now ours spins in vertically and sits upright, making the entire process easier and cleaner.

Thanks Jack!

We also checked and topped off all of the other fluids, the transmission fluid – of course! – we check that now before every crank, and the coolant. It felt good to give the Westerbeke some love after she’d carried us all the way to Carrabelle, yet again. We also gave the boat a good scrub-down from bow to stern. While we had motored most of the way across the Gulf, the half-a-day we’d spent trying to get out in the Gulf initially in 4-6 foot, head-on waves had laid a pretty thick coat of salt on the boat. You could see and feel salt everywhere – on the deck, the lifelines, the stanchions. It was like Plaintiff’s Rest, on the rocks. We scrubbed every inch and polished her up, head to toe.

After tending to the boat, we then turned our attention to the crew. It was time for a feeding. We showered up and hit the town. Yes, the hustling, bustling big city of Carrabelle! We knew, from the multiple weekend trips we had made to Carrabelle last year when our boat spent six weeks in the River having a new transmission put in, that the happening spot in Carrabelle was Fathom’s.

Or, we were at least partial to it. Our mechanic, Eric’s, family owned the bar/restaurant and we had stopped there for some incredible fresh oysters and beer before heading out last time to make the trip from Carrabelle home to Pensacola.

Can’t believe I said “I’m not really an oyster person” in that post … The Keys have changed me!

Fathom’s has a great custom-built boat-bar and the perfect outdoor deck seating right on the waterfront.

Last time we were there, we could see our boat right across the way!

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? No, you haven’t.

And, we had occasionally heard some great live music streaming across the River from Fathom’s when we were there, working on the boat. We knew the next time we made it back to Carrabelle on our boat, we wanted to spend at least one evening eating our fill of fresh oysters and catching the live band at Fathom’s. We figured it would play out very much like a scene at Pirate’s Cove – a lot of local riff raff providing some high quality, free entertainment.

The Riff Raff cast from the Cove – November, 2013.

Since Fathom’s was on the agenda for the evening, we popped into the first restaurant we came across on our Carrabelle outing – The Fisherman’s Wife – for lunch. A fitting name for your typical quaint country restaurant. It reminded me of the little diner my grandma (Big Mom) used to take us to on Sundays – Doris’s Diner. The kind of place that keeps heaping condiment baskets on the table, complete with a sticky syrup dispenser, because they always seem to serve pancakes, and the waitresses can pull pens out of their poofy Peg Bundy hair like magic to take your order on a flip pad. I felt right at home! And, the Fisherman’s Wife did not disappoint. They served us up some incredible onion rings, a heaping salad and sandwich combo for lunch.

We walked lunch off down the main strip and found some pretty interesting highlights along the way. Like this little gem – the Carrabelle Junction!

An old fifties-style ice cream shop chock full of antique toys, trinkets and signage.

I love stuff like that. You’re always bound to see an old toy you used to play with sitting on the shelf and the memories flood you.

This one reminded me of the old Gumby & Pokey figurines I used to play with. You know, back when toys didn’t need any bells or whistles or lithium batteries.

Hours of entertainment …

Which is exactly what we found poking (and gumbing!) our way along the downtown Carrabelle strip. It doesn’t take much for us, though. We seem to find just about the same level of entertainment in tiny little rustic towns like Carrabelle and Apalachicola as we do New York City. It’s all in your level of expectation and your openness to truly explore new places – the quaint or the common. As fate would have it, we found something in Carrabelle that you can’t find anywhere else in the world. The world!? Yes, the world. Without Googling, do any of you faithful followers know what it is?

Bombs Over Baghdad!

November 18, 2014November 18, 2014anniedike

May 5, 2014:

Shrimpers. That’s what they were. Those strange looking UFO ships out on the water.

They were huge shrimping vessels with massive football stadium-like lights flooding the deck. No red or green for port or starboard, so you couldn’t tell which way they were going (or coming!), only that they were getting closer and closer and closer. Super annoying when you’re cruising at night and not sure if the shrimp boat is going to come across your bow or cut behind your stern. And, what was worse, when they finally passed us about 100 yards off of our port stern, it looked like there was no one on deck or at the helm. They were probably all below playing poker and smoking cigars or something, just trudging blind across the Gulf, blissfully unaware of any other potential vessels in their path! Stinking shrimpers! We were cursing them all night. We probably “encountered” four or five of their “kind” that night and had to stay on constant watch.

Sadly, too, there wasn’t much wind that night. We had to motor until about 1:00 a.m. when the winds finally picked up to about 3 knots. It wasn’t much, but it was the most we’d seen in 12 hours, so it was enough for us to throw out the sails. I will say the Hinterhoeller is an exceptional lightwind boat. Favorable seas and any breeze 3 knots or greater and we can usually achieve hull speed about 2 knots less than the wind, if not more. So, if it’s blowing 5 knots and we’re not beating into big waves, we can usually make around 3 knots, which is great. A typical wind of 7-8 knots, and we’re often making 5, easy. Like I said, an incredible vessel that still never ceases to amaze us. Thankfully, with a light 3 knots of wind that night, we were able to finally kill the engine for a bit and sail! Until about 4:30 a.m., when the wind died out again and we had to crank back up. Dag nabbit! But, we did cruise right on into a beautiful sunrise over the Gulf.

May 6, 2014:

And, have you ever had one of those perfect Saturday mornings where you wake up, lounge around in your PJs, make a big weekend-morning breakfast like french toast, or pancakes, and then fall back asleep till like 10:00 a.m.? Ahhh … Isn’t that the best? Well, this morning was kind of like that. We watched the sun rise, made some piping hot coffee, sipped it, devoured two heaping bowls of steaming oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar and then …

took a nap! The morning chill was still in the air and we were both a little tired from the two-hour shifts the night before, so we eased into the day nice and slow like, taking turns napping in the cockpit. But, the sun finally started to ease up and so did we. It was a gorgeous day out in the Gulf.

Unlike the crystal green waters we had encountered around Clearwater and Tampa Bay, the waters here were a deep, rich royal blue,

and just as stunning in their own way. We even had a sea turtle come and visit us!

I know, looks kind of like a grainy alien photo, but I promise, it’s a turtle. I finished a fun, quick suspense read that morning – Lee Child’s 61 Hours – and the joke was we had been motoring about that long, too. 61 hours, huh? Not quite that long, but it felt like it. About 12 hours the day and night before, and add another 6 or so since we’d cranked around 4:30 that morning. So, 18 hours so far, which is a long time to keep that engine going. We decided to turn her off and bob for a bit so we could let her cool and check the oil.

You know what they say — “Diesels love oil like a sailor loves rum.” (And, by “they” I mean Captain Ron … naturally)

There you go girl … Drink up!

The wind was still mocking us, gracing by our boat at a light 0.5 to 1.3 knots. 1.3?? Look out! It’s getting gusty up here!! It was amazing to see the waters of the Gulf, which we have seen many times brimming with 3 foot, 4 foot, even 6 foot waves, look like solid … glass.

There would be no sailing for this vessel anytime soon. So, we cranked back up and decided to heat up some of our broccoli-less broccoli crappola (also known as sweet potato chili),

and throw together a great cucumber, tomato and feta salad for lunch.

This salad is great because it’s super easy. It’s literally cucumber, tomato, a little bit of olive oil, salt, pepper and feta. A great way to throw together some random vegetables you may have on the boat or some feta that needs to be eaten. With water like glass, a nice lunch spread laid out before us, and nothing but easy motoring to do, we thought we were in for an tranquil day. But, that’s when it struck …

You might recall me asking you all, in jest — What’s the Worst Thing You Can Have On a Boat? And, no, it was not the “busted mate”

(although that was close). For us, it was the LEAK!

Our stupid dripping dripless. That was the worst thing we’d had on the boat … up unto that point at least. But recall we ran through some possibilities then – fire, lightning, etc. Now, it seemed we were about to have something new. Phillip and I had just curled up in the cockpit with our chili and salad and were ready to kick back for a relaxing lunch when

>> BOOM <<

Out of nowhere, with nothing out of ordinary in sight. We both jolted upright and starting looking around. And then again

>> BOOM <<

It sounded like bombs were exploding over head. I’ll never forget how quickly Phillip put his bowl down and jumped behind the helm, scanning the horizon. In military mode. Of all the things that we could expect to happen on the boat. A bomb?!? You have got to be kidding me. When another BOOM came with no sign of an explosion or threat near our boat, we started to run through the possibilities. Phillip said he knew they often used the northern part of the Gulf as a testing zone for bombs and other detonation devices. They would fly out of Tyndall or Eglin Air Force Base and drop in the designated zones. Tyndall AFB is just south of Panama City.

Assuming they had a drop zone about … yay … big (give or take)

and assuming our projected path of about … here’ish (I know, real technical stuff),

it was wholly probable that we were either in their testing zone or at least close enough to hear it. While Phillip knew they often did testing in this area of the Gulf, he said they usually issued some notice or warning to mariners over the radio to advise of the bombings. If they were bombing anywhere near us, he would have expected to have heard an advisory go out over the radio or to have seen marine vessels or air support checking to make sure the testing zone was clear. He clicked on the radio and listened for any advisories, but we didn’t hear anything. Either the testing was occurring much too far away to constitute any potential threat to us (although I can assure you it did not sound like it), or the ole’ Rest had gone rogue and done slipped through their barriers! Flanking them on the inside! We didn’t see any action on the horizon or hear any advisories on the radio, so we figured we were at a safe enough distance, but that didn’t stop us from standing up and doing a 360 every time another bomb went off! BOOM!

It was the wildest thing. As cruisers, you prepare for a lot of contingencies when you start doing overnight passages and Gulf crossings – you pack spares for every single piece of equipment, and then spares for those spares, you have a ditch bag handy and rehearse man-overboard drills, you keep a knife, a flashlight and a gaff near the cockpit in case someone or some thing goes overboard – all kinds of safety precautions. But, a bomb plan?? I can tell you we certainly did NOT have that. But, like I said, they seemed to be no real threat, so we let the bombs drop all around us all afternoon while we continued to motor toward Carrabelle. As the sun started the drop, the wind laid down even more (it was blowing — if you can even qualify it as “blowing” — between 0.3 and 0.5 knots) and the water began to look like a smooth satin sheet laid out before us.

Eventually the two became one and there was no discernible horizon.

It was incredibly beautiful and humbling, to know that a body of water so dangerous and deadly at times could lay down and spread out like a smooth silk path for our passage. Even more awe-inspiring was the friend who joined us for dinner. A tiny, lone sparrow flitted around our boat twice before finally coming to a shaky halt on a lifeline and heaving little pants of exhaustion from his overwhelming flight.

Where did he come from? Where was he going? How did he make it all the way to our boat, more than a hundred miles offshore, in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico? We didn’t know, but we didn’t need to. He was welcome regardless. He closed his beady little eyes and stayed right with us until the sun set and we could no longer make him out.

It was Phillip, the bird and I, motoring into another night on the Gulf, with Carrabelle awaiting us, on the other side of the sunrise.

Provisioning for Passage with “Broccoli Crappola”

November 4, 2014November 4, 2014anniedike

May 2-4, 2014:

While they were certainly barreling into the slip, it turned out the “Coming in Hot!” boys didn’t really need our help. About half-way into the slip, the skipper threw it in reverse full throttle and nudged right up to a piling on the starboard side with just the slightest ‘squeak’ and they were in. It was incredibly impressive. He handled that 30′ sailboat like it was a Sea Doo. They offered their thanks and waved us off, and Phillip and I set back to our main mission – DINNER. It was our second night in Venice, and after hob-knobbing and indulging ourselves the night before in the fine-dining atmosphere on the second floor of the Crow’s Nest Marina restaurant …

we decided to get back to our roots this time and slum it with the rest of the salty sailors on the bottom floor of the restaurant – the Tavern. And, what an experience …

They had this guy there playing live music. He appeared to have a little Middle-Eastern influence and just the slightest hint of a lisp. Strange combination, I know, but it gave his vocals this raspy, soulful quality. And, the guitar he was playing had like six strings on each side – a total of 12 – and he seemed to use every single finger on both hands to pluck each one of them. He was captivating. Here – see for yourself:

Good stuff, right? He was awesome. And, in between sets, he liked to play trivia with the audience – real old school music history stuff. Like, who wrote the first version of that song? What band did he originally play with? Way beyond my time, but several folks would call out answers and he would rip them a new one if they were wrong – all in good fun. He was quite entertaining. But, he didn’t turn out to be the actual entertainment. I hope you noticed in the video, the guy that was sitting with his back right next to us. The one the nice waitress had to ask “Sir, could you please scoot your chair forward so we can get by with the food?” If not – watch it again. Because, THIS guy was truly entertaining.

You’ll notice his clapping off-beat at the beginning of the video (when it’s not really a “clapping” kind of song if you know what I mean). We’d been watching him since we sat down. A real, attention-seeking fellow, that man, on the verge of belligerence. First, he tried to hit on a gal sitting next to him (who was with a male companion might I add) and that didn’t pan out. He then tried to guess one of the trivia questions, which also didn’t pan out. And, just when he had finally quieted for a moment, the waitress came by and kindly asked him to scoot his chair forward, stirring the nest all over again. He was offended … to the core. After she walked by, he threw his hands up in disgust and loudly protested. “What am I supposed to do, Gary? Sit like this??” he practically shouted to the guy sitting two feet from him as he scooched his beanpole chest all the way up to the table and hunkered over his food in a dramatic over-exaggeration. “I mean, what does she expect?” Wow. He repeated his scooch and hunker-down show every time the waitress came by and loudly pushed his chair back out in rebellion after she’d passed back by, his arms folded over his chest in a snooty pout. It was the adult equivalent of a tantrum, and … to our pleasant surprise – wildly entertaining. Don’t you just love people??

In any event, we thoroughly enjoyed the soulful music, rustic atmosphere and “live entertainment” at the Crow’s Nest Tavern that night. We ordered up a raw dozen, some rich escargot, a delicious bahn mi sandwich and an insanely-huge piece of Oreo cheesecake.

De-lish! Needless to say, we didn’t last long after that meal …

May 3, 2014:

We woke the next morning to another Lion King quality sunrise. NaaaaaaaasuhWHENya … Okay, I won’t go through it again. But, it was gorgeous coming up over Bird Island.

This time it was Phillip’s turn to take the sunrise session and get his African chant on while he paddled the coves and inlets around the marina.

We had been watching the storm in the Gulf, and it appeared the sea state was going to lay down enough to let us head out tomorrow for Clearwater. So, with a passage on the horizon, we set our sights on provisioning the boat. We had a good bit of hearty root vegetables on the boat (sweet potatoes, carrots, onions, etc.) that needed eating, so we decided to make a big pot of sweet potato chili. (It also rained most of the morning, so what better way to pass the time than cook up a big pot of soup!) We tried this recipe initially before we even got our boat, when we were just cooking out of galley cookbooks for fun – only dreaming of what we would actually make when we were on an actual passage, in our actual BOAT! And, we first made it on passage when we were sailing the boat back from Punta Gorda, FL where we purchased it in April, 2013. There we go!

While the chili was a hit amongst the crew initially, we did receive some complaints later from one disgruntled crew member — the infamous Mitch. (Let me just say I spared you some of the more disgusting details about our initial crossing) and suffice it to say that the man thoroughly enjoyed the chili going in — not so much coming out. And, when I was faced with the remnants he had left for me in the head, he boldly blamed the “Broccoli Crappola” we had fed him for dinner …

It was sweet potato chili.

Not a single stalk, leaf or floret of broccoli in it.

But, to this day, the Captain and I still lovingly call our sweet potato chili “Broccoli Crappola” in memoriam. Ahhh … Mitch. You gotta love that man. Since we had all the necessary ingredients already,

we went ahead and made a big batch of it for easy re-heat during passage.

This chili is great because the ingredients for it (basically carrots, sweet potato, onions, black beans, chopped tomatoes) are incredibly hearty and will hold until you’re ready to make it. It’s easy, cheap, delicious and filling. What more do you need on a boat? Recipe here. And, since we’d made a huge batch, there was plenty for us to have a bowl that day for lunch.

Did I mention the cheap part? Venice was certainly burning a hole in our budget …

In the afternoon, we headed over to the marina to do some laundry and clean up and – of all the people – guess who we ran into? Yep! The “Coming in Hot!” boys. As you recall, they were occupying the slip right next to us, so we, of course, as a result of natural marina curiosity, had watched them emerge from their boat around 10:30 that morning, stretch and moan and scratch some things, and head to shore. We recognized them when we came into the laundry area and struck up a conversation. And – it’s always fascinating the kind of people you meet when you travel. So the Captain was in his mid to late thirties, a tech guy, who was on a two-year sabbatical, traveling the world. He had been to the UK, India, Thailand, you name it. He met his soon-to-become First Mate, Will, while riding a train in India. They became fast friends and decided to travel the world together. Their first plan was to buy a bus and convert it into a hostel but they claimed they “got drunk one night and bought a sailboat instead.” And, here they were. In Venice, FL. Not an ounce of sailing knowledge between them and they were just figuring it out as they went. Sure explains the “Coming in Hot!” bit and the dilapidated boat. But, they had an infectious sense of adventure and infinite charisma. Great, great guys. We chatted with them for a while and decided to have a drink or three at the tavern while our clothes were spinning. A quick clean-up and an inspection of the arm confirmed what I already knew – it was still attached and still looked … awesome. It had graduated from elephantitis to jaundice with a nice yellow hue and still maintained a distinct “squishy” feel throughout. … Nice.

They were airing the Kentucky Derby at the Tavern and offering themed drinks (mint juleps and Pim’s cups), Derby swag giveaway and a big prize for the lucky customer who guessed the winning horse.

It was a fun atmosphere and we had no problem plopping down for some cocktails, calamari, a sensational burger and quesadillas. Yum!

With the laundry taken care of, and a big pot of chili ready for passage the next day, we curled up for a quiet movie night on the boat and made a list of the non-perishables (milk, OJ, eggs, creamer and the like) that we would need to pick up in the morning before heading out to Clearwater. We figured it would be about an 15-18-hour passage (approximately 70 nautical miles assuming an average 4-or-so knot speed), so we planned to leave early in the afternoon in hopes of making it to Clearwater the following morning. Like I said, we always try to plan to come into pass in the daylight – even if we’ve been through that pass before. Even familiar passages are more treacherous at night.

May 4, 2014:

Another beautiful sunrise in Venice. No surprise there. (No Lion King chants this time – lucky you).

A brisk morning walk around the docks revealed plenty more of those weird snail-like evolutionary creatures that we had come across in Ft. Myers.

I captured some more fascinating footage for you of their signature flap-swim stroke:

You’re welcome. And, you’ll be glad to know I spared you the Australian-accented nature documentary commentary that Phillip had to endure during the first three filmings: “The snail flaps furiously through the treacherous waters as the sun rises over head … ”

We decided to get another advantageous use out of the free bike rentals at the marina to make our run to the store. Venice was a very clean, friendly, accommodating marina, but a little on the pricey side, so we were trying to limit our last Venice adventures to free bike rides and chili bowls. Another picturesque cruise through downtown Venice, though. The tree-lined streets are perfect for biking of a leisurely stroll.

And, there was a Publix right in the heart of downtown – just a quick bike ride from the boat.

Good thing we had baskets on the front for the groceries!

Tis me!!

And, I didn’t crash!! (this time). Funny thing was, when we came back to the boat, it seemed we had somehow missed the invite for the party!

There were boats, dinghies, floaties, redneck yachts and coolers all around our boat!

Apparently, Saturdays at Snake Island can get pretty wild! While we would have loved to have hung around with the redneck crew, we had a Gulf passage calling us. It was around 1:00 pm, and we were hoping to get underway before 2:00pm to ensure a morning entry into Clearwater.

We packed the boat, checked the weather one more time, and headed out!

We were expecting 10-15 mph winds out of the NNE, and a 2-4 ft sea state, which would have been a little rough but bearable. When we made our way out of the inlet, however,

we were faced with NW winds (the exact direction we were going) of 17-20 mph and swells of 4-5 ft. It was a very rough sea state.

Some swells appeared to be about six feet. The boat would heel back and climb over them and the wave would swallow the horizon behind the boat as we barreled down it.

We were averaging 0.5 to 1.7 kts – the epitome of beating to windward. After about three hours of this we had collectively decided we were miserable. We were barely making way beating into the wind in a sea state that was working against us too. The forecast was off. It could improve, but it was anybody’s guess as to when. If we continued to ride it out, we could end up stuck in miserable conditions for 24 more hours just to make it to Clearwater tomorrow. We had learned that patience in timing passages makes all the difference. There was no need for us to rush to Clearwater, particularly not in this horrendous fashion. We decided to wait 30 minutes or so and if nothing changed to turn back and wait for better conditions. And, as you can likely guess … nothing changed. Just thirty more minutes of making 0.7 knots into the wind. Having covered approximately 6 miles of our estimated 70-mile trip over the course of four hours, we decided to call it. We hadn’t even made it far enough away from shore to lose sight of it, so turning back wasn’t too much of a stretch. And, the minute we turned around, it seemed the entire weather system changed. It’s amazing how forceful and threatening the wind can feel when it’s coming on your nose only to have it turn into a light breeze when it’s coming on your stern. We now had big, beautiful following seas and were averaging 5.5 knots easy back to shore. While the six miles out took us four hours to cover, coming back only took an hour and a half. But, the seas were still kicked up, 4-5 foot swells had the boat rocking and rolling toward the inlet. And, you remember what I said about the inlet at Venice — very narrow:

And, very rocky:

The bow of the boat was swaying and rolling in an elegant motion, but only briefing passing at times the mark for the entry of the inlet. Imagine finding a sight for your target in the scope of your rifle, then trying to hit it while making a figure 8 with the barrel of your gun. Phillip and I both tensed when we realized how tricky it was going to be to steer the boat in between those two severely rocky shoals. The only good news was the closer we got, the wider the inlet seemed, but that also meant we were closer. Closer to the rocks and the jetty and the waves crashing on shore. And, just as we were nearing the entry, we saw another sailboat pitching and bouncing on the rocky shore. We weren’t sure at first if it was on the rocky shoal or just extremely close, but as we neared the inlet, we could tell. The boat had run hard aground on the rocks, the hull smashing into them again with every incoming wave.

“As if I need a visual reminder of what could happen if we don’t get this right,” Phillip said in solace, shaking his head and staring ahead, trying to keep the “figure 8” motion of our bow within the realms of the rocky inlet.

They’re Coming in HOT!!

October 28, 2014October 28, 2014anniedike

May 2, 2014:

Naaaaaaaaa-suhWENya! WanaBEEzeewhen-aaahhhh! Okay, you probably have no idea what I’m trying to replicate here (but if you do – five gold stars!).

We rose the next morning before sunrise. The sky was choked at first with soft, billowing blue clouds, covering every inch of the space overhead with only one sliver of light growing in the east. As the sun rose, the blue canopy began to dissipate and everything turned a fiery shade of pink.

Now you’ll understand — Naaaaaaaaa-suhWENya! WanaBEEzeewhen-aaahhhh!

I went for a sunrise paddle that morning – left before the sun rose, and watched it taint the sky as it climbed the horizon. I felt like I was the center of the Circle of Life! Everything seemed to open, bloom and awake around me and change from a dusky blue to a golden pink.

Pelicans were swimming and flying right along side of me.

Hey whenyahhna. Hey, heywhenyahhhna …

The water was rippled pink, purple and blue and the only sound I could hear was my paddle dipping in and out of the water. (Well, other than the African Lion King chants I was wailing in my head).

Hey whenyahhna. Hey, heywhenyahhhna …

And then I emerged!

“THE CIIIIRRRR-CUUULLL OF LIFE!!”

Okay, it wasn’t that dramatic in reality. I just pulled up to the boat.

Hello Beautiful!

But, it was an intensely serene sunrise paddle. Such a beautiful area right around our boat to tool around in.

I paddled around Bird Island. I didn’t know – then- that the other was called Snake Island, but I’m glad, now, that I avoided it! Since it was our first day in a new port, we decided to what any good adventurer would do … get out and explore! We walked around the boat a bit and checked out the cool rock jetty (Venice Inlet) that leads out into the Gulf – knowing we would be headed out that way in just a few days.

We noticed it was both (1) very narrow:

and (2) very rocky:

A bit of a bad combination for entry and exit in a boat, particularly in rough seas. The sea state was still kicked up with the storm rolling in to Clearwater, so we knew we would be hunkering down in Venice for at least a day or two. But, I tell ya, it wasn’t a bad place to be! We had the boat nice and secure at an excellent marina,

and we had attracted some friends around the boat.

And the jetty, inlet and Gulf waters were beautiful. Lots of folks came out it seemed to eat lunch, sit and read, and just hang out around the jetty. Excellent walking/meander grounds.

But, like I said — we were ready to explore! A little further than what was achievable on foot. So, remember the free bike rental I mentioned at Crow’s Nest Marina for marina guests?

Suh-weet! We checked us out a free pair and set to it!

The area around the jetty was really nice, and it was a perfect sunny day for a bike ride, so we decided to make a day of it. We biked … all … over!

Adorable little condos and townhouses by Crow’s Nest. Many of them had stairwells up to the roof where they had set up a little sunbathing area on top of their house!

Quaint shaded streets and light traffic made for perfect neighborhood cruising among HUGE banyan trees.

I almost crashed five times trying to look up at the Spanish Moss. Well, I take that back, I almost crashed several times because I’m just well, accident prone, and I was shooting while biking, AND I’m a blonde. So, I had a lot working against me. But, I somehow managed to stay upright. The biking was actually excellent exercise for the knee which still had a little pain and a pop, but was improving daily. We found an excellent public beach access that appeared to be the perfect place to set up for kiting if we got some favorable winds while we were there.

We actually met a kiter who was out there setting up that morning and chatted him up for a bit.

He told us the thermal winds in that area were usually pretty steady, meaning you couldn’t trust the wind prediction. It was always off. Good to get the local wind scoop!

Wind scoop …

Get it??

We rode our bikes all the way to town!

Tis me!

Annnd, I didn’t crash taking that shot either! You’re welcome.

We found this awesome 1950’s throw-back trinket shop – Nifty Nic Nacs!

So true …

Take an old photo, put a funny caption on it and BOOM! I just love these things!

Apparently, the shopkeep didn’t LOVE my love of them, though. He totally busted me for taking photos of his stuff. Sorrryyy! It’s just cause it’s such cool stuff! The lengths I go to to capture our adventures for you all … I could have been arrested!

Having biked all morning, we set our sights on lunch. A little research told us this Blue Island Bistro was the hot lunch spot in Venice, and boy were they right!

Quaint little bistro atmosphere overlooking the hotel pool.

A pile of hand-made shoestring onion rings, three chicken, avocado and lime salsa tacos and a piled-high pork & coleslaw sandwich later, and Phillip and I could barely walk, much less pedal! It took us a while to roll out of our seats and ease back onto our bikes to make the trek back to the marina, but it was totally worth it. That was a mighty tasty lunch!

We had good timing, too, because just as we made our way back to the boat, we got to see first-hand what that storm that was headed to Clearwater looked like. Our marina was haunted with looming grey clouds and dark horizons.

We hunkered down in the boat for a bit to wait for the storm to pass.

I actually love being on the boat when a storm comes through. Granted, I don’t want to be buried in a wicked thunderstorm, but it’s a neat feeling to be on your boat, on the water, out in the middle of a torrential downpour, but you’re dry and secure, watching it all first-hand. It’s kind of like getting a cozy, front-row seat to some of Mother’s Nature’s most amazing displays. And, our boat needed the rinse, so we were fine to let it pour, pour, pour!

I tell you one thing that rain didn’t clean, though, was the paddle board! Remember the new “friend” we had made at the marina? The one I thought was so cute because he was hanging on our dock line? I had been snapping shots of him that morning, telling Phillip “Look, Phillip, we’ve got a little buddy!” Awww … how cute!

Well, he turned out to be a real shitty friend, that bird! He used our paddle board as his own personal hunting perch and he SHAT all over it!

That terd! It took some serious industrial scrubbing to get it clean!

But, we got it clean, and cleaned ourselves up as well. The previous night, we had fine-dined at the swanky top floor of the Crow’s Nest Marina restaurant, so this time we decided to check out the casual, cozy tavern on the bottom floor.

I required some serious industrial cleaning as well after the foul fowl discharge clean-up! But, I think I turned out alright. You can’t see the elephant arm at all! We mozied around the marina a bit to check out this huge fishing boat that had pulled in for quick cover during the flash storm.

And, just as we were walking the docks, checking the boat out, we saw this other sailboat come flying in. The boat would easily qualify as a “work-in-progress.” It had big, brown paint patches in places, no lifelines to speak of and a few buckets and board planks lying around on deck. The boat made a quick u-turn near the fishing boat where we were standing and then started on a beeline back toward our boat – just hauling through the marina (which always makes you nervous). It’s like watching a car up ahead on the interstate swerving and screeching around. You’re either going to ease back and stay out of the way, or floor it when you pass them to make sure they don’t careen into you. But, the problem was, we weren’t on the boat! Meaning, we had no way of getting our boat out of harm’s way. We both craned our necks up and watched with tight-lip frowns as the blazing boat made a quick turn into the slip right next to us (not on us, at least). Whew! It was clear they weren’t going to hit our boat, but they were still barreling into the slip, headed straight for the dock. Phillip and I both started running toward their bow as one of the crew on the fishing boat shouted:

“THEY’RE COMING IN HOT!!”

Open Says-a-Me!

October 22, 2014October 22, 2014anniedike

May 1, 2014:

That’s right. May. We finally made it to MAY. Phillip and I both couldn’t believe we had spent an entire month on the boat and it had felt like only a couple of weeks, a few days at the most! Time was flying and our trip, it seemed, was slipping by faster than we would have liked. But, I’m sure it always feels that way. You never really want to go back … once you start going! But, sadly, we had jobs and meetings and all sorts of other obligations calling us back to Pensacola, so we needed to start making way that way. Although our original plan had been to make our way up along the coast to Clearwater before we jumped back across the Gulf to Carrabelle, considering our engine situation (one drip approximately every 10 seconds) and reports we had heard of storms rolling into Clearwater, we decided to motor up the ICW to Venice to shave a little off of our trip to Clearwater and closely monitor our engine in the safety of protected waters.

We would then make the Gulf crossing we had now made three times back from Clearwater to Carrabelle. It would be the last BIG crossing of the trip.

And, as you may recall, the last time we made this passage, from Clearwater to Carrabelle, we beat into 30 hours of rough weather and seas and had to hack off our dinghy in the middle of the crossing.

The really mind-blowing thing was, though, that she made her way across the entire Gulf alone and ended up in Ft. Walton, where we reclaimed her. This time, thankfully, we had opted for an inflatable dinghy, which was stowed safely below, so, assuming good weather, we were hoping to have a smoother passage. But, that was the next leg. We set our sights first on Venice via the ICW. Now, recall we still had a dripping dripless, although it was relatively minor, and a fluky manual bilge pump which we attributed to a cracked pump hose. So, our first mission that morning was to retrieve the replacement hose we had ordered at the Gasparilla Marina and make sure our manual bilge pump was working. That was the mission anyway …

I will say, it was a beautiful area around Gasparilla for walking, biking, canoeing, and

they had a very friendly staff at the marina, happy to sell us any type of hose we wanted. Cha-ching! Unfortunately, though, the new hose didn’t fix our manual bilge pump problem. Even after feeding the new hose from the pump at the cockpit down to the bilge, we still couldn’t suck the last bit of water out. It seemed the pump wasn’t sucking very well. It kind of sucked at sucking, I guess you would say …

But, our electric bilge pump was working fine, our manual pump was only kind of sucky and our thirsty Thirsty Mate, that trusty ole’ chap, was working great. Super suckage. So, we decided to go for it. We tossed the lines, had a friendly lad at the dock help us ease out (hence – no docking debacle this time!) and headed up the ICW toward Venice.

See ya!

Now, the ICW runs along the West Coast of Florida from Anclote Key (Tarpon Springs, just north of Clearwater) down to Ft. Meyers, and serves as a nice option if the sea state in the Gulf is gnarly and you still want to make way along the coast. Most of the bridges along that route are either 65 feet or taller or they open to allow marina traffic through. We had six bridges total to make it through from Gasparilla up to Venice.

Most of them were open on-demand. Meaning you call the “bridgemaster” (I assume that’s his technical title) about 10 minutes out to request he open the bridge for you — “Open Says-a-ME!” Assuming no traffic or issues, it’s no problem, he opens the bridge as you’re headed toward him and voila! Occasionally, he may have some traffic backed up or some other issue and you’ll have to do a few circles before he can make it happen for you, but it’s generally not a problem. Other bridges open on a schedule, once every 15 or 30 minutes. So, you just have to know your bridges ahead of time and schedule/plan accordingly.

Luckily, I travel with the most awesome Captain in the world, and he had figured all of this out ahead of time and had all the numbers and times and everything printed out, ready to go, while I sat around and ate grapefruit.

Ain’t life grand? Okay, I shared some with the Captain, too.

Grapefruit … yum!

But, Phillip soon wised up and put me to work, keeping up with the log book, checking on the bridge times and

(of course!) monitoring our engine drip.

Drip …

We were motoring under moderate load most of the day and she was dripping once approximately every 15-20 seconds. It seemed the hotter and harder she ran, the less the drip.

No comment … Likely the pressure and heat caused the seal around the stuffing box to swell, which created a tighter seal. In all, we were pleased with the slight drip and felt comfortable spending the day motoring up the ICW. The esteemed Captain called ahead as needed for bridges that opened on demand.

“Open Says-a-ME!”

And we tried to motor accordingly (slower or faster) to come up on those that were scheduled just about the time they were opening.

It was pretty cool to see the massive cranks and gears that raised these bridges.

It’s pretty impressive to take a road that can hold tons upon tons of traffic and just … eehhh … crack it open and let a boat through. While most opened up like a drawbridge, we did pass through one that spun on an axis.

Like I said. Pretty cool. Definitely a different feeling than making our way across the Gulf. While we prefer to sail — always — it was a nice motor day and we got to marvel at some impressive engineering feats along the way.

An inspection of the arm showed I was developing a rare case of what we quickly coined “elephantitis.”

Everything from the wrist down was normal until about here,

where it balooned out and took on a squishy, swollen feel all the way up to my shoulder. And, let me just warn you – do NOT Google images for elephantitis. Just. Don’t.

We made it to the Crow’s Nest Marina in Venice around 3:00 p.m. and settled in nicely at Slip No. 9. The staff at the marina were exceptional. They helped us dock, welcomed us with maps, info, a menu for the local Crow’s Nest restaurant and showed us the facilities. Washer & dryer, nice showers, restrooms, even free bike rentals for marina guests. Sweet!

Live webcam leading out to the jetty:

By then, it was getting close to 4:00 and we were getting … happy. “I’ll take an Oh Shit!, please.”

Mmmmm-Hmmmm!

We sat and sipped and uked and watched the marina activity for a bit,

before cleaning up to head over to the Crow’s Nest Marina Restaurant for dinner. They had separate shower suites, with restroom and shower stalls, which is super nice.

Not “truck-stoppey” at all! The arm was looking awesome …

Not disgusting at all! Just kind of Popeye’ish if you ask me.

I do eats me spinach! But, it was progressing along fairly well and still attached … so, no complaints.

We cleaned up and got ready for a nice dinner at the marina restaurant. The bottom floor of the Crow’s Nest Restaurant is more casual, a tavern-like atmosphere with light fare, live music, etc.,

while the top floor is a ritzy, fine-dining restaurant.

We figured, when in Venice …

“Table for two, please. Top floor.”

And, the food … was … decadent! We ordered up some phenomenal chicken skewers and oysters to start,

which of course came with a basket of piping hot fresh bread and a trifecta of dipping goodness (salty house-made butter, crushed garlic spread and olive oil with spices.

Then, well, things got a little hazy. I remember ordering (and thoroughly enjoying) the snow crab legs, and Phillip got the lamp chops. But, let’s just say, we were a few cocktails, two glasses of champagne and a couple bottles of wine in. I told you we were going to take this crazy act on the road! I remember the crab legs, but not the bib …

“You say it brings out my eyes? Stop it. Cap’n, you’re making me blush. My, my … “

Don’t Worry … We Can Pump Gallons Out at a Time

October 15, 2014October 15, 2014anniedike

April 30. 2014:

So, we’d done our homework. We knew we had a Lasdrop stuffing box and that it wasn’t sup-POSED to drip. We also knew the guys at Gasparilla Marina would be sending a mechanic back out to our boat early the next morning to follow-up on our leaking stuffing box so we grabbed a bite at the Waterside Grill — buffalo shrimp, grilled grouper (plate and sandwich) —

enjoyed a sliver of sunset over the marina,

and crashed hard on the boat. We woke the next morning, though, to excessive buzzing, dinging and chirping of our phones. It seemed the masses were trying to reach us. After ignoring the first few, we finally lulled ourselves awake to see what all the buzz (no pun intended) was about. And, that’s when we got the terrible news. Our home port of Pensacola had endured 20 inches of rain in 24 hours. There was extreme flooding with inadequate drainage. Many homes were flooded, cars submerged, roadways engulfed. It was unreal.

ABC News – Powerful Floods Tear Through Pensacola

We started making frantic calls – checking on friends, family, the office, the condo, other boat owners. It was a mess. And, it was so ironic that everyone had been calling often checking on us as we were out making passages, crossing the Gulf of Mexico, putting ourselves in the path of potential storms and yet home is where she decided to strike, while we were tucked safely in a marina in Gasparilla. We felt a slight tinge of guilt that we were sound and secure while others back home were dealing with such damage and loss. We weren’t even sure yet about your own place or our cars. We just did what we could remotely and set our sights on making way back to Pensacola.

We got on the phone with the guys at the marina and they sent out a sprite little stick of a man (stiff breeze would have blown him over) to come check out our stuffing box. But, he was sharp, friendly and super-knowledgeable. You could tell he’d been working on boats for a long time. That’s just the kind of guy I want sticking his hands up under our transmission. Guy cracked me up though. Just before he bent over into the engine room, he snapped back up real quick and said “Better empty my pockets first. Don’t want these dumping into your bilge.” And, then he proceeded to set not one, but two packs of cigarettes and a lighter on the nav station. I’ll bet that’s a one-day supply for this guy.

He maneuvered some things around, wiggled it – just a little bit! – and said he was able to create a decent seal. One he thought would hold well enough to get us home. You mean, no haul-out?!? We were certainly relieved to hear that news. But, we were certainly going to test it to be sure. We decided to crank her up and go for a test run. Much like the crossing we did last year when we were catching and dumping transmission fluid back into the transmission, I found myself again, hunkered down next to that noisy engine, watching a drip.

But, that was fine with me. I’d much rather have an engine that’s running but requires a little drip supervision than one that’s not. So, I busted out the all-important boat tool used last time to capture the name on the stuffing box – my PHONE – and did my best to capture the drip so we could accurately time it and see what we were dealing with. I caught three drips in 30 seconds, meaning roughly 10 seconds in between each drip. In the video, I move the flashlight beam to indicate each drip. Riveting footage I assure you …

After watching her under various amounts of load, we determined the box was dripping roughly every 5-7 seconds at idle, every 10 seconds under moderate load and every 20-25 seconds under heavy load. The more load that was on her it seemed the more pressure on the box which created a better seal. So, on average, one drip every 10 seconds when the engine was running? We figured that was probably common, if not less, than the intended drip on most stuffing boxes designed to drip. Certainly something our bilge could handle, assuming we found ourselves having to motor a lot on the way home. If we were able to sail most of the way – no issue at all. So, we decided to go for it. We were going to make our way back home with the very minor dripping-dripless and address it once we got back.

As usual, we had been discussing the stuffing box ordeal with some fellow cruisers and our broker-turned-boat buddy, Kevin, offered some sage advice. While our electric bilge pump was working fine (in fact, its frequent automatic activation is what helped us uncover the leaking stuffing box in the first place), Kevin suggested it might be a good idea to check our manual bilge pump(s) before leaving the dock. Just … in … case. Smart man, that Kevin.

While Phillip always tells me the most effective “bilge pump” you can have is a motivated sailor and a bucket,

we thought it best to follow Kevin’s advice and check on our other mechanical bilge pumps. The manual pump in the cockpit,

and, the almighty Thirsty Mate!

It seemed the Thirsty Mate was working fine.

That thing sucks. In the best way possible. And, I rigged up a hook on the end of it that attached to the drain in the sink in the head so it could be used single-handedly by a crew member to pump water out of the bilge and into the sink to drain out (in case Captain’s holding the helm, and I’m doing the sucking – a likely scenario if we found ourselves really taking on water). So, Thirsty Mate – check!

Unfortunately, we didn’t have the same luck with the bilge pump in the cockpit … The suction was incredibly low and we didn’t think any water was actually making it out of the boat.

After some troubleshooting, we were sure there was some crack or poor connection in the hose from the pump at the helm to the bilge that was hindering suction (like a straw with a hole in it). We decided to get a new hose for it. Not that we planned to re-run the hose under the cabin floor and back up to the cockpit before we left, just so we would have a secure hose that we could connect to the pump in the cockpit and hand-feed down to the bilge just in case we had a sufficient leak, and the electric bilge pump went out, and we couldn’t sufficiently drain it with the Thirsty Mate. A lot of prerequisites there, which sufficiently met our concerns for getting back under way. Some friends, however, didn’t seem to have the same reaction. I explained our situation via text to a few non-boating gal pals of mine, advising them we did have a small leak, but we were able to pump “gallons out at a time,” so we felt it was fine to head back out into the Gulf, and THIS was the reaction I received:

GALLONS?!?

She mentioned experiencing something similar to “heart palpatations” at my use of the phrase “gallons at a time.” Where’s your sense of adventure? I’m kidding. I have some really great friends who worry a great deal over me, but in secret, they live vicariously and they know they love it! ; )

We felt good about it. One drip every 10 seconds, no haul-out and no costly mid-trip engine repair. Yee-haw! Let’s go! The only downside was that the marina said they couldn’t get the manual bilge hose we needed until the next day, so it was one more day in Gasparilla, which was fine with us. I will say, the marina there is pretty impressive. Hundreds of boats just stacked up on shelves like toys. The scale of it kind of blows your mind.

Those are all 18-20 foot center consoles sitting on the shelves like dolls. And, they have this HUGE forklift that plucks them out of the water like they only weigh ten pounds.

It’s so cool I filmed it for you!

And, you’ll find it highly entertaining to know that I forgot about the whole “Just Cause” conclusion in the video until I was just now re-watching it, thinking the whole time … Oooh, ooh, I know what I can say as the caption for this video — “Why did I film this … ” I’m so good I beat mySELF to the punch sometimes!

So, after all of the pumps were checked and our hose was ordered, we decided to clean up and hit the town! Or … the … Waterside Grill at the marina. But, hey, that counts. Look out Gasparilla!

It’s Happy Hour on the Plaintiff’s Rest!

Peel-and-eat shrimp, a fully-dressed hot dog and live music out on the deck. It doesn’t take much to suit us. After a few glasses of wine and a hearty dinner, we sauntered around the marina in high spirits,

entertaining ourselves with inSPIRed but obvious observations:

“How many you see there, Cap’n?”

In all, we were thrilled to have received good news about our stuffing box situation and excited to start making way the next day – one drip at a time. Look out Venice! We’re taking this inspired-but-obvious act on the road!

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!

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!