Good Juice – Page 2 – Have Wind Will Travel

Strictly Sail Miami – Day One – A Bitchin View

February 18, 2015March 10, 2015anniedike

February 11, 2015:

I know, a blog post in real time? Modern day 2015? This is crazy! But, it was all too exciting to let simmer on the back burner. While we embarked on plenty of adventures, excursions and (always) more boat projects since our return from the Keys in May of 2014, honestly, they can wait. From the moment we docked back in May, the next big “sail trip” on the horizon was, for us, the Strictly Sail Miami show in February.

Their unbiased sponsor, Flo, claims, “It’s the sailing event of the season!”

Strictly Sail puts on shows in various cities–Chicago, California, etc.–every year and we had been trying to make it to one for a while. When the show in Miami came up, we booked it months in advance and started scraping our pennies so we could afford, you know, like three drinks in Miami. The show would also be a great opportunity to check out the latest technologies and developments in boat design, sail accessories, electronics and hardware, as well as attend seminars and hands-on sail classes taught by some of the sailing world’s well-versed and renowned experts–Nigel Calder, Jimmy Cornell, John Kretschmer and the like–real, live sailebrities, if you will. *sigh*

I also had another more personal goal in mind. I had been mulling over the idea of polishing and cobbling together a few of my early blog posts into a book for quite some time (I know–surprise, surprise). But, when the time came to get serious about it, I reached out to the man who published my very first sail story for some guidance. You may recall this notorious character —

Bob Bitchin, self-proclaimed “Editor-at-Large” of Cruising Outpost. Bob has written and published a number of books himself over the course of his colorful career, so I figured he could give me some words of wisdom when it came to publishing my own. Bob’s recommendation on publishing? “Self-publish,” he said. “It’s the best way to go.” Self-publish, I thought with a huff. Who’s going to buy my hand-made, self-printed drivel? But, I pondered it for just a bit before I promptly decided to take his bitchin advice and do it! Then I got real bold and told Bob I’d bring him a first edition, signed copy at the Miami show! *gulp* Now I had a real deadline, but an incredibly motivating goal.

Luckily, I busted my arse, finished Salt of a Sailor in record time and packed the very first hard copy with me on the flight to Miami. My plan was to corner Bob at the famous Cruising Outpost Party he hosts every year at the show. I planned to gently saunter up to him at the party, introduce myself in person, book in hand, and thank him for all of his help. Or, if that didn’t work, spring out from behind a port-a-potty if need be and hold him down until he took the book from me and promised to read it cover to cover. Either way, I was excited about the Bob encounter.

The book all printed and packed, Phillip and I hustled ourselves to the airport to get on a big jet airliner to Miami the day before the Strictly Sail show began.

Who’s excited??

Another really cool part about this trip was that it was our first time to try out this fancy new vacay rental website called Airbnb. Don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s a fantastic concept. Anyone, anywhere in the world can list their property (be it their whole house, apartment or studio) or just one room (the guest bedroom, the garage, whatever) on the Airbnb website for rental by total strangers (aka … us!). We had poked around on the site weeks before the trip and found a one-bedroom condo that looked like it was just a few blocks from the Strictly Sail show, which meant we could walk everywhere – no car rental! Even after taxes and the Airbnb service charge, it was still cheaper than any hotel in the area. Thank you Airbnb! We hopped on the Metrorail (a whopping $2.25 a piece to get from the airport to our condo) and headed downtown.

And, when we got to the condo, the Vizcayne on Biscayne Blvd, we were thrilled to find it was literally right across the street from the show!

We could literally throw a stone at the Strictly Sail tent from the front door of our condo building! (That is, if we were inclined to throw stones at it … we opted for embarrassing selfies instead!)

And, the condo? Let’s just say we had a bitchin view!

And, you might think it would be hard to really kick back and get comfortable in someone else’s place? Trust me, it’s not.

But, we didn’t stay at the condo long. We were ready to get out and explore and dig into some authentic Miami cuisine. Our trusted rigger back home, Rick Zern with Zern Rigging, had recommended an upscale Peruvian restaurant near the marina, which turned out to be about a half block from our condo. I’m telling you – location, location, location. So, we went to check it out–CVI.che 105. And, I’ve had some really great ceviche before, I’m definitely a fan, but every time I’ve had it, it’s always been a mix of tiny little diced up pieces that look a lot like pico de gallo. Something like this —

Peruvian ceviche, however? Looks like this!

Huge chunks of shrimp, octopus, fresh fish, calamari, mussels, etc. They’re tart but tender. And, it comes on a bed of fried corn (which adds great texture), these sweet, plump hominy-looking kernels and sweet potato. Yes, sweet potato. I would have never thought to throw in some sweet potato with ceviche, but trust me, the Peruvians know how to do it. We also tried their grilled octopus with chimichurri and creamy pepper sauce,

and Phillip ordered the braised beef and beans, both of which were incredibly flavorful.

Then we were miserable. Pretty much, anyway. That was a lot of food. Way more than we needed at the time, so we knew next time, to order one entree and split there, but it was absolutely divine–best ceviche I have ever had, hands down. Stuffed to the gills, we decided to go poking around the marina, get a little preview of the boats and decide which ones we wanted to check out first tomorrow.

“Uhhh, yes, I’m looking to upgrade my Niagara 35 to a 74″ Catamaran.”

Not really. We would never! We love our Niagara! But, that’s what we were planning to tell the brokers so they would let us on these big, buoyant monsters just for a look-see. There were soooo many floating mansions to see! We spent a couple of hours poking around the boats and the big tent, planning our attack for the next day and eventually worked our appetites back up. (It really doesn’t take much with us, though). After some thorough Trip Advisor scouring, Phillip had rooted out this little place called Toro Toro for us to check out. The bar at Toro Toro was THE happening place in Miami–a modern, swanky atmosphere, finely crafted cocktails and all walks of elegant Miami life.

We also got incredibly lucky to get in without a reservation (because the place was booked solid the rest of the time we were in Miami) but after a quick sip at the bar, they called us right back. From the moment we sat down, everyone in the place stopped by to check on us–make sure we had menus, our candle was lit, had the sommelier come by yet? The service was phenomenal. And, the food? So good I forgot to take pictures. That is … until the highlight. Their La Bomba dessert. I’m not sure you can handle this.

Three scoops of vanilla bean and strawberry ice cream, fresh fruit and cookie crumble, complete with an edible flower garnish, are brought to the table in a sculpted chocolate shell bowl.

The server lays down a clean piece of plastic on the table and then … CRACK! He drops the bowl onto the table where it shatters into a beautiful, melted chocolate dream. Slow-churned caramel is then drizzled over the top, almost like a painting.

It was a true culinary experience.

That, sadly, among these two ravenous travelers, didn’t last long!

We sauntered home with visions of caramel drizzle and chocolate shards dancing in our head. The Strictly Sail show hadn’t even begun yet and we had already sunk our teeth deep into the adventure. Despite the full bellies and travel fatigue, we found it a bit difficult to lull ourselves into a deep sleep that night. Perhaps it was the newness of the place, but I suspect it was the excitement of the day to come–the boats we would explore, the fellow cruisers we were going to meet, the sailebrities!

Phillip and I both rustled to before the sun rose the next morning and started checking the seminar schedule and readying the backpack for the day. This was it! The Strictly Sail Miami show! We stopped in at a little coffee shop at the YVE hotel across from the show, where many Strictly Sail folks were staying, ordered up a couple of lattes to sip on before the show and settled in at a window seat. I was perfectly content, sipping my latte, munching some granola, with a lovely view out of the cafe window. Phillip, however, had a different view. He spotted him first. Over my shoulder. Sitting there, drinking coffee, eating a bagel, like a totally normal person, not five feet from us. The man himself … BOB BITCHIN.

I immediately started sweating, fidgeting with my hair, biting my nails, glancing over my shoulder. It was really him! Phillip and I debated it a bit. Should I bust up on him, now, all starry-eyed and stammering, book-in-hand or wait until the Cruising Outpost party on Saturday? Would it irritate him if I interrupted his breakfast? What if he held up his hand to cut me off and just said, “Sweetheart, talk to my people?” I had no idea what this man would do! I was all hot and clammy and nervous, but ready to get it over with. Phillip pulled the copy of my Salt book I had signed for Bob out of the backpack, handed it to me and told me to go for it …

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How To Make Friends at a Marina

January 14, 2015January 14, 2015anniedike

May 11, 2014 (Mother’s Day!):

There are two ways, either 1) cook up a savory dinner on the community grill, open a box of wine and invite everyone to share it, or 2) play the best loud music, open a box of wine, and invite everyone to share it. It’s doesn’t take much really.

Our second day at the Port St. Joe Marina, we headed back to the Piggly Wiggly to provision up. Since we’re the roughneck, backpack-sporting cruiser type, I’m sure we do come across as ominous thieves. Or, Phillip does at least, because the Piggly Wiggle backpack Nazi confiscated his backpack–again–the minute we walked through the door.

Why do I document these things you might ask. Because I find them hilarious.

Another hilarious quality of the Pig–the full spectrum, scope and line of official “Larry the Cable Guy” processed products. Let’s see, you’ve got your …

Larry the Cable Guy Hamburger Dinner (just add burger!).

Larry the Cable Guy Cheesy Tuna Dinner (when you want the other white meat).

Larry the Cable Guy Beer Bread (“just add beer & butter”).

A full array of Larry the Cable Guy Seasonings.

And, let us not forget, the variety of Larry the Cable Guy “Tater Chips” (TM)–Barbeque Rib and “Pass the Dang Ketchup.”

Mmmm-Mmmm good!

After an appetizing stroll through the Wiggly market, we headed back over to our favorite lunch spot in PSJ–Peppers Mexican Grill–home of the “Clean Plate Club,” where Phillip and I filled up to the gills last time on their $12 burrito that comes with an endless supply of chips and salsa. This time we opted for the monstrous taco salad and carne tacos, complete (as always) with an endless supply of hot, homemade chips and salsa.

De-lish! But, also super filling. We had to walk about two miles just to feel normal again. Port St. Joe is certainly not a bad place to do it though, with plenty of picturesque, scenic walking trails and coves.

You are here.

We perused the docks,

met the infamous PSJ local, Larry, who gave us the infamous “If you’re bumping into things … ” line (a real character),

got invited to tour some pretty sweet new boats–a 2013 Seaward Unlimited–

and checked out the marina grill situation to scope out our prospects for dinner.

We decided the grill was a-go, so we hauled all of our fixins and a box of wine over to the grill to set up shop and cook up a fine pork tenderloin with roasted broccoli for dinner.

But, when you get a slab of meat like this going on the community grill at a marina full of hungry old salts, I’ll tell you what happens …

you start making friends. Real fast.

“Mmmm … what ya’ll cooking up there?” They seemed to come from everywhere. All walks of life. All different kinds of boats and cruising backgrounds. I had to make several trips back to the boat to get more wine and food and we ended up piece-mealing the pork out and sharing with everyone. We had a great time mixing with the locals, though. And, I have to say, the older the couple, the more hilarious they seemed to be. I spent most of the evening chatting with this one couple, I can’t quite recall their names–something like Edna and Burt–who’d been cruising together for something like 20 years. Edna would say of Burt, “Awww, hell. I don’t think he can tell the difference between my boobs and my stern at this point.” But, then she’d lean over to me and whisper, “to be fair, there ain’t much difference, but, I’m never fair to Burt!” I loved those old coons.

Phillip and I thought we were the real showmen of the marina. Cooking up a fine feast, feeding everyone and sharing tall tales from our mis-adventures as the sun set on the friendly folk of the marina.

But, we were amateurs. Earlier that day a fleet of trawlers had pulled in, the leader of the pack, s/v Island Time, having docked right behind us, stern to stern.

We could hear their rockin’ 70s classics blaring out eight boats back as we packed up our fixins at the grill and started making our way back to our boat. Having shut the community dinner down around 9:00 p.m., we had every intention to go straight back to the boat for a good night’s rest as we planned to get up early the next morning and head out from Port St. Joe to make the 24-hour run home to Pensacola. But, it soon became clear that was not going to happen. “You are a dancing queen!” thumped through the cabin of our boat, and Phillip and I joked that it was now the s/v Plaintiff’s UN-Rest.

A raspy female voice broke through the music and laughter, shouting at us through our companionway. “We’re not going to get any quieter, so y’all just better come join us!” It was our last night in Port St. Joe, our last night to be docked in foreign waters, and our last night on the trip. Our last night! And, we were planning to rest? “Screw it,” we said, grabbed a half-full box of wine, two glasses and headed over. And, these folks … If I thought Edna and Burt were entertaining, the Island Time crew blew them right the heck out of the water. They danced and sang, danced and sang, belting out every lyric to every song that poured out of the speakers. They had an awesome mixtape station going, too–the BEST kind of oldies–like Lying Eyes (Eagles), Dancing Queen (ABBA), I’d Really Love to See You Tonight (Mix), Baby Come Back (Player), Sail On (Commodores), I Can’t Go For That (Hall & Oates), I Can’t Tell You Why (Eagles), I Wanna Know What Love Is (Foreigner), It Must Have Been Love (Roxie), Total Eclipse of the Heart (Bonnie Tyler). You see what I mean? The good damn stuff!

If you can’t beat ’em (or sleep through it!), might as well join ’em. There’s the Plaintiff’s Rest there!

And, they kept passing around this microphone, with a long dangling cord, that should have been plugged into something (probably a Singalodeon from the 80’s),

but it wasn’t. They just wadded up the cord, wire-tied it and sang into it any way, at the top of their lungs. One of the gals told us “It’s a wireless!” with a “Get it?” smile and nod.

Those “oldies but goodies” sure showed us how to friggin party. I can only hope I’m half as a bad-ass as they are at that age, pulling my massive trawler up to the marina, breaking out the “wireless mic” and inviting everybody in the damn place over to a fully-stocked open bar and a full-out oldies dance party. I snuck some from our cockpit when I went back for another box of wine. You can see Phillip sitting on their boat, cracking up at the sight of it.

But, it only makes you want to go over, step aboard and find yourself the full breadth of it–on their boat, surrounded by incredible, fun-loving folks who could give a damn about what anyone else thought. They gave us yet another wildly-entertaining Keys Trip tale to tell and made our last night truly unforgettable. Thank you Island Time! “

Sing it with me now–“You are a Dancing Queen! Young and sweet, only se-ven-teeeeen!”

Sax Sultan in the Beer Garden

January 7, 2015January 7, 2015anniedike

May 10, 2014:

After the horrendous slam-a-ground just outside of the Port St. Joe bridge and the heroic motoring of our boat to get us off the shoal and bring us safely to port, the Captain, the boat and I were all ready to kick back and relax. For the crew, it was shower, then shrimp, then a cocktail or two.

For the boat, it was a nice rinse down and a washing of anything on the boat that could fit into the machine. We were throwing linens, clothes, everything in the basket, with reckless abandon.

“This towel?”

“Sure.”

“The rug?”

“Why not.”

“The curtains?”

“Maybe next time.”

By the time we got to the laundry room we had a heaping pile, but the facilities at the PSJ Marina are great–clean, always available, accessible and fully-functioning. And, they certainly earned their “Florida’s Friendliest Marina” title by helping us cash in our wadded-up dollar bills for quarters for the machine. Three loads later, everything on the boat, minus the curtains, was clean, pressed and fresh as a daisy.

Unfortunately, a full inspection of the boat revealed yet another casualty of the Keys trip–the overflow valve for our holding tank on the port side. Like Larry said, “If you’re bumping into things, it just means you’re getting out there.” Well, we had apparently bumped into something while we were out there, which ripped the black plastic cover off of our overflow head and left a small gouge in the side of the hull.

Uggh. Add that to the list.

For dinner, we knew exactly where we were going to go–Joe Mama’s Pizza! But first, we wanted to get a pre-drink and pay a visit to our old pals at the Haughty Heron bar just behind the marina. Last time we were there, they’d given us a free pour and a free Heron t-shirt! Not that we were expecting the same treatment, but, much like feeding a stray dog, it certainly had us coming back! We love the vibe in that bar, though. Very laid back, great atmosphere and a great wine selection.

And, on this night of all nights, the ‘tender told us they were going to have live music in the “Beer Garden out back” and that we should come back for it after dinner. “The guy on the sax will blow your mind,” she said. “It’s like he sings with it.”

Although it doesn’t take much to entertain us, particularly when we travel–we seem to find interesting sights, people and performances just about anywhere we go–but, a singing sax?? That was certainly a new one for us. We were definitely in! We finished our pre-dinner drinks at the Heron and told her we’d be back for the show. Then it was off to Joe Mama’s for their famous wood-fired pizza and (my personal favorite) the HUGE family-size house salad, made table-side with all of the fixings.

They claim it serves a family. I’m inclined to think it would be just right for me a toddler. We also got the sauce-less wings again, too, which we love and I tried the red wine flight.

The Chilean Veramonte was the highlight, until the pizza Gods rained upon us with savory fennel sausage, melted mozarella and caramelized onions. It was a glorious Italian bounty.

We ate like kings, drank, rested and ate some more.

Our bellies full and our bodies content, we made our way back to the Beer Garden outside the Haughty Heron for this promising sax show. The Heron had built out an awesome deck area behind the bar complete with an amphitheater, palm tree landscaping, string lights and plenty of tables and chairs to sit and enjoy the free live music.

And, the guy on the sax … Let me just say, it reminded me of that Dusty Dinkleman character from that Ryan Reynolds classic — Just Friends.

“Have you seen him play that guitar? It’s like he has 15 fingers. I can’t compete with this guy!”

Sorry Phillip. But, the guy was a mad genius with the sax. Whatever Dusty could do with his fingers, well, this guy could do with his mouth.

He was incredible, as was the rest of the band (although I have to admit I didn’t notice them much). Sorry again. It was Latitude 29. Check out some of their other covers and shows HERE. I was like a tweenager at a One Direction concert, singing and filming and “whoo-hoo’ing.” Seriously, I whoo-hoo’ed.

Several times. We stayed till the sun fell, belting out the words (or whatever words came to mind) to every song, until they closed up shop.

Great, GREAT night at the Beer Garden! Thank you Haughty Heron (and the Sax Sultan from Lat 29) for putting on such an incredible show!

Hatty Hour’s Over

December 16, 2014December 16, 2014anniedike

May 10, 2014:

We didn’t last long after the fun-loving Blue Dolphin Crew and their Roo showed us such a great time at the oyster warehouse and diner. It was a few hazy steps back to our boat docked right in the heart of downtown Apalachicola followed by a solid, sound night’s sleep at the City Dock. The sun creeped up over our sleepy little dock around 6:30 a.m. the next morning and made some exquisite silhouettes out of several of the Blue Dolphin boats that were anchored across from us in the Apalachicola River.

“Morning Boat!”

“Morning Apalachicola!”

We made a tasty batch of coffee in the trusty French press on the boat and ventured out, two piping hot mugs in hand, to explore Apalachicola in the early morning light. Not too exciting, you might be thinking. That’s never the case. Ambling around, we stumbled across this new quaint little hotel in the historic Bowery District.

Phillip cracked the front door open, popped a shoulder and a coffee mug in and gave me a little head nod to follow.

It looked like it was built out of all reclaimed wood and metal. Old wavy sheet metal pieces lined the bottom of the hall under a thick piece of chair rail. Little antique trinkets and pieces adorned the walls, re-purposed in creative ways. After creaking over a few floorboards, Phillip and I stirred someone in a back office and he stepped out and welcomed us warmly. It was actually the owner, Poloronis himself,

and he eagerly gave us the grand tour. They have four rooms, exquisitely decorated, each with a kitchenette, refrigerator and master bath. And, most of the wood, countertops, furniture and decor are all reclaimed, refurbished pieces. Just spectacular. But, don’t take my word for it. If pictures are worth a thousand words a piece, here’s like a-quarter-mil. I give you the Riverwood Suites. Enjoy!

Poloronis also told us a little about the history of the building. Built in 1908, it was first used as a boarding house for the numerous shuckers that lived in Apalachicola and then as a used car parts warehouse.

The Suites were beautifully-done, rich with history, reasonably-priced, with a super-friendly staff and owners and located right in the heart of all the happenings in downtown Apalachicola.

Which, for future reference, here’s a great site outlining all of the amazing things there are to do in Apalach: http://www.saltyflorida.com/areas-to-visit/apalachicola/. It’s mind-blowing. One of which, our exceptional host on the Riverwood Suites tour told us about — BOWERY STATION. But, we’ll get there. I’m not sure you can handle Bowery Station just yet. Shit gets wild at the Station.

After the tour of the Riverwood Suites, we huddled up in a cozy corner of the Riverwalk Cafe to get some breakfast and spend a few hours working.

A little post-breakfast shopping and tinkering around (I just love the old-Florida “look” of Apalachicola), then,

also at the recommendation of our B&B tour guide, we decided to check out Up the Creek for lunch. Balcony seating on the back deck with a great view of the river.

We ordered up a half-dozen of their “Southern Fella” Apalachicola oysters (baked with collards, parmesan, garlic butter and bacon). Do I even need quote the well-known philosophy on bacon?

We’ve had oysters many ways, but the collards and bacon were definitely a unique addition. For lunch, Phillip ordered the gator burger which was great. The homemade coleslaw on the burger was a nice touch.

But, my dish, the grilled conch cakes took (no pun intended) the cake!

The conch cakes were incredibly rich and quickly earned the title as one of our best meals of the trip. We were also pleased to learn they were made with Tupelo honey, which we had discovered during our way down the coast was made right in our very own Port St. Joe!! Well, Wewahitchka, to be exact.

(Pronounced wee-wuh-hitch-kuh, if you were wondering).

It felt (and tasted) good to be eating local! The meal didn’t last long, though, and neither did the wine we ordered with it.

Happy Girl!

Our bellies full, we sauntered back to the boat for a siesta. This touring and eating is real tough work.

But it was a good thing we did. We didn’t know it yet, but we were about to fall head-first into a rowdy, raucous party at the Station. We ventured out around dusk to see what all the fuss was with this Bowery Station. On our way there, we passed this packed-out antique store, appropriately-named the Tin Shed. Trinkets, knick-knacks, old trunks, potted plants, anchors, port lights and other random items practically spilled out the door.

We had to poke our heads in. Just a quick breeze-through at the very least. You never know what kind of gems you’ll find in a place like this.

You see? “You said it, Annie. You’re never fully dressed without a belt!” So true.

But, this place was huge. I lost Phillip within the first five minutes and found myself stepping from one room to the next, through a thick labyrinth of antique marvels. There were entire rooms devoted to figurines, others to crystal, others to hats, others to old nautical pieces, others to antique Halloween costumes. It was wild. I probably could have spent another hour in there, thoroughly entertained, but I finally stumbled out into the first open area I’d seen since we stepped into this alter-antique universe and made my way toward welcoming music coming from the only outlet I saw available, a single open doorway.

I had to laugh when I blinked my way in and saw Phillip there at the bar, already ordering up two glasses of wine for us. It was Bowery Station! We hadn’t meant to, but we’d inadvertently stumbled upon the back entrance (connected to the antique warehouse). The gal behind the bar laughed and told us they get a lot of stranded husbands that way. Their wives drag them into the antique madhouse next door, and they eventually stumble their way in through the back entrance and enjoy a beer or two while the Misses continues blissfully poking around next door. Perfect. But, we had finally made it. Bowery Station.

The bar was built out of the old Wefing’s Marina Supply store on Water Street.

They still kept all of the old cubbies that were built into the back wall, originally to house marine supplies, but it now serves as a very functional and full-scale wine-rack!

They keep a huge tin barrel of peanuts out, complete with little tin buckets that you can dip in, fill up and take back to your table (which are also stand-up barrels) to share with the whole group.

No surprise, you’ll find the floor littered with smashed-up peanut shells, but they don’t care. It adds to the character “and helps with the acoustics” the barkeep said with a wink. They’ve got some great antique decor of their own,

and just a great casual feel. There’s even a gal out front with a nice rack who greets everyone that comes in.

Their hours are from 12-8pm, “because no one in Apalachicola really stays up past nine,” the barkeep told us.

And we were excited to learn that the couple who owned and worked the place every day had moved up to Apalachicola from Key West to open this bar. “Well, I’ll be … WE just came from Key West, too!” We had a great time reminiscing with them about some of the more questionable joints in Key West they used to frequent–Sloppy Joe’s, Hog’s Breath, the Schooner Wharf Bar. We had a great time chatting with the two of them as the place started fill up.

Then she told us about the hat. Yes, the hat.

See it there? Just behind the fan.

It’s just a regular old Bowery Station ballcap that they’ve rigged up on a pulley system to the center of the ceiling. This is Bowery Station’s unique version of “Happy Hour.” They raise the hat up to the center of room at 5:00 p.m., when they’re aptly named “Hatty Hour” starts and they slowly lower the hat as the hours tick by to remind the patron’s to keep getting drinks while the getting’s good.

Uh-oh, that hat’s starting to come down now. “Phillip, we better get another round.” During hatty hour, you get one chip with every drink that entitles you to a free ‘nuther.

They have live music every night too. But, at the Station, they don’t have a planned music act lined up every night. No, no. They prefer open mic night, every night. Anyone who wants to step up onto their makeshift stage and play something, sing something, hell, snap something, they’re more than welcome. The gal behind the bar told us they’ve just kept it open since they started and they have yet to see a night where the stage was empty. I was thrilled when I saw a washboard/banjo band setting up. We’re such lucky SOBs!

They were actually really good, and incredibly entertaining. Especially the chick on the washboard. That takes talent! We sat back on our stools, munched on peanuts, sipped our hatty hour drinks and had us a fine time.

The hat started to sink,

and the locals started to balk. It was all in good fun, though. Each time the owner or her husband would turn the crank a few times to lower the hat, the patrons would shout “Noooo!!” (and then happily order another round). Some of them protest, “Nuh-uh, Nancy, it’s not 6 o’clock yet on my watch!” they’d shout and the barkeep would give ’em a playful frown while pouring them another drink. The “wine chips” are a great idea, too, because people lose those left and right. You can find some on the floor, put yours down and someone will take it. It’s hilarious. But, the washboard band wasn’t the real highlight of the evening. It was just before the hat hit the wall that this wild, fanny-pack boasting broad found herself the perfect stage prop and started to it. Watch out now, she’ll sweep you right off your feet!

See? I told you. Times gets wild. Washboards and peanut shells, wine chips and hat tricks. Bowery Station has it all.

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.

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 … “

Book Swap Mojo

September 2, 2014April 2, 2015anniedike

April 26, 2014:

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

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

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

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

My what?!?

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

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

Whooo-pssshh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Time by Sailboat

August 27, 2014August 27, 2014anniedike

April 26, 2014:

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

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

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

Ferry Boy: “What for?”

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

Ferry Boy: “Lemme see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheers!

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

Okay, so there were SOME fanny-packers …

“Next time, we’ll be over THERE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next time!

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!