Landlubber Outings – Page 4 – Have Wind Will Travel

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!

I Wouldn’t Use the Word ‘Run’

December 23, 2014December 22, 2014anniedike

I wouldn’t. It just doesn’t quite capture it. Jumped. Landed. Struck. Those are all more appropriate. But, run? No. I wouldn’t say we ‘ran.’

May 10, 2014:

After a wild, peanut-shelling, hatty-hour hollerin’ night at Bowery Station, Phillip and I made our way back Up the Stairs for one final feast in Apalachicola. The braised pork shank appetizer, fresh baked bread and wedge salad were divine.

Not to mention the quaint, cozy view of the town from the upper deck. For dinner, Phillip enjoyed a perfectly cooked filet and I, according to the waitress, “put down some duck” (Caribbean style with roasted red peppers and mango).

She kept warning me when I ordered it how big of a dish it was. “That’s really a lot of food, ma’am.” Good, I thought. Because I didn’t come here for just a little! She seemed shocked when I cleaned the whole plate, so we got real crazy and ordered some dessert just for the hell of it! “Yes, we’ll have the homemade peach ice cream, please.”

In all, we thoroughly enjoyed our last night in that sleepy old Florida town. We woke the next morning, bright and early,

and readied the boat to motor “the ditch” back to Port St. Joe.

I am thrilled to say it was one of our easiest “de-dockings” yet. I am still prone to get a few heart palpitations when we pull up to docks and away from docks and near docks and around docks. The whole process is just fraught with peril, but this time the river pushed us right off. We waved a hearty goodbye to the friendly Blue Dolphin Crew anchored around us and watched Apalachicola shrink away in the distance as we headed up the channel.

And, just as it was last time, the Ditch offered us up another beautiful motor day. We eased along through old swamp-like pines, with Spanish Moss hanging the from the trees and birds swooping elegantly above the water.

Rusty old bridges, worn-out shrimping boats and driftwood boathouses littering the banks make it feel like you’re trudging up the ole’ Mississipp.

We even got to throw out the Jenny for a bit in Lake Wimico and do a little sailing. Otherwise, it was just a leisurely cruise. We read and wrote and enjoyed an incredibly peaceful five-hour motorsail over to Port St. Joe.

Bringing you the very best, from the cockpit of the Plaintiff’s Rest!

Everything was great and wonderful and perfect, until all of a sudden it was not. While we were protected from the weather in the channel (I’m assuming that’s why they call them “protected waters”), such was not the case when we came out under the bridge at Port St. Joe. We were motoring the narrow channel and it was blowing about 15 mph right over our port bow. With little protection from the South (only the thin sliver of Cape San Blas on the other side of the bay), the wind was picking up a lot of fetch across the bay and beating into us, bringing 2 foot seas along with it. The wind and waves were pushing us around in the narrow channel and just as we were coming under the bridge and preparing to hang a left to come into Port St. Joe Marina, the boat made a wicked “WHAM!” sound and slammed aground. Like I said, the word ‘RUN‘ would be incredibly deceiving in this situation. We didn’t just ease up gently on the bottom and scooch up on the soft sand. No, our boat lifted up on a wave and came crashing down on the ground underneath it. I bolted upright and looked around, thinking we had actually collided with something. We heard glass shatter below and looked down in the cabin to see that the globe from the lantern had popped off with the impact and busted into a hundred pieces on the cabin floor.

Out of instinct, Phillip said, “What was that?” Followed immediately by, “We’ve hit something. We’ve hit the ground. We’ve run aground,” as if his thought process was simply occurring out loud. I looked behind us and in front of us and it looked like we were still between the channel markers. Phillip revved up the engine to try and get us off, but we just kept hitting, over and over again. The depth was reading 5.2 but it was hard to tell from the GPS which side the shoal was coming in from. Meaning, we weren’t 100% sure which way we needed to go to get off of it. Phillip thought it was on the starboard side, but the wind and waves were coming at us right over the port bow, pushing us back each time on the shoal. We tried our boom trick, swinging the boom way over on the port side and having me hang off of it to try and list the boat to port to get off of the shoal, but it wasn’t working. We could see the marina. It was right there! We were less than a half-mile away, but we were stuck. Lodged on the bottom and beating it with every passing wave.

Phillip swapped places with me on the boom and gave me the wheel with instructions to keep trying to motor off the shoal toward port. He had pulled up the number for the marina on his phone in case we needed to call for a tow. I pushed the throttle forward and heard our Westerbeke struggling mightily into the weather while Phillip dangled and bounced his entire body weight from the boom hoping he could free us.

“Now?” he would shout between bounces. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” I would shout back. “We’re still hitting!” Ugh, it was such a sickening feeling.

Just as we were about to call it and make the call to the marina, I started to see depth on the GPS. First 6.2 then 7.0, then a joyous 8.3. Finally double digits and the boat stopped beating. Phillip could feel it and he bounced around a little harder as the boat finally started to ease off. I gunned it, pushed her hard to port, and we finally started moving forward. Once we settled out and got our bearings, we looked back, and it was clear the heavy wind and waves on the port bow had pushed us just enough outside of the channel to hit bottom on the starboard side.

It’s surprising, sometimes, how easily you can run aground when you don’t realize how much the weather is really pushing you. Our takeaway from this experience was to ensure the next time we find ourselves in a narrow channel in rough conditions, we’ll make extra effort to look both forward and backward and make sure we’re staying between the channel markers from both the rear angle and ahead. It’s easy to just look forward and think you’re staying in the channel because your path lines up with the markers ahead. But, we learned to look backward as well to make sure you’re not slipping out. It doesn’t take much of a “slip” to slam aground. We have never felt such an impact in the boat, and we never want to feel that again.

Thankfully, though, our trusty gal got us off and brought us safely into the marina where we gathered our collective breath, thanked and praised her profusely, promised we would do everything in our power to never let that happen to her again and then we hugged her. Or at least I did. A big bear one, right around the mast. Once again, despite our undeniable efforts but inevitable shortcomings, she had brought us safely in to port.

Thanks girl.

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.

The Blue Dolphin Crew, a Roo and Us Too

December 9, 2014December 9, 2014anniedike

May 8, 2014:

“Well, how long you plan on staying, son?” Chief Varnes asked.

“Uh, two nights, sir. Maybe three,” Phillip responded.

“Alright, why don’t we say thirty dollars a night. You head on over to City Hall tomorrow morning and pay Miss Linda. Tell her Chief Varnes sent you.”

I kid you not. He called Phillip ‘son.’ The Chief of Police in Apalachicola sounded just like an old Mayberry officer. It seems they don’t keep too stern of an eye on that city dock. While the tourists traveling through Carrabelle apparently can’t be trusted, those frequenting Apalachicola by sailboat are automatically enrolled in the honor system. Chief Varnes even gave us directions to City Hall: “Turn around to face the road. Now look over at about your two o’clock. You see a big beige building there? That’s it. Head on over tomorrow and see Miss Linda. Y’all have a good evening.”

We never saw the man. I assume he had no idea how long we actually stayed. But, we docked, called and set aside some cash to pay “Miss Linda” in the morning. We were glad the river was high enough to allow us to moor there. While there is no power or water, the city dock is economical and literally right in the heart of downtown Apalachicola. Hop off your boat and you are there!

Phillip and I walked along the dock to check out the other boats there, and we couldn’t take our eyes off of this beauty:

Beautiful woodwork, classic lines with the step ladder up to the mast. And, it was in great condition. We had all but stepped onboard when a man came up from behind and startled us with a slap on the back. “She sure is a nice boat, huh?” Phillip and I just kind of stood there, wide-eyed, bobbing our heads in unison. “Uh-huh. Yep. Nice boat.” Then, he stepped on board (more like hopped really), turned around and held out a hand for us. Phillip and I weren’t sure if he owned the boat or was just ballsy enough to step on without permission to have a look around. “I’m glad you feel that way. She’s mine,” the man said with a smile. He invited us into his massive cockpit to sit for a bit while he introduced himself, Gene Weatherup (great sailor’s name, right?), and told us a little about the boat. It was an original Herreshoff design. Built in the seventies. 47 feet with an 11-foot beam. Gene showed us some pictures of her under sail. Just gorgeous.

Gene was eighty years old. He and his wife had been living on the boat and sailing it all over the West Coast of Florida for an impressive twenty-five years. That is the kind of stuff I want to be doing at eighty. And, he was a sprite old fellow too. He hopped up and down all over that boat with far more ease than Phillip and I. He was an avid cruiser who actually was there heading up a 6-boat flotilla, the Blue Dolphins, on a 2-3 month cruise along the West Coast. Gene guaranteed us it was possible to cruise the entire West Coast of Florida by making only 5-6 hour jaunts offshore. He said there were tons of little rivers and inlets, even in the Big Bend, that sailboats could tuck into. We knew he would be an excellent resource the next time we planned to cruise along the coast.

He was also an excellent resource for Apalachicola. Gene told us the first thing we needed to do was go to this place called the ‘Halfway House.’ “Now, I’m not sure that’s exactly what it’s called, but you’ll know it when you find it,” he said. “They get the first batch of oysters that come in every day at 2 pm, and they’ll shuck them right there for you and serve ’em up.” Apalachicola oysters? That was one of the main reasons we had decided to come back around these parts, Carrabelle and Apalachicola, for the fresh, local oysters. It was nearing 2:00 p.m. while we were chatting with Gene, and Phillip and I knew as soon as we were finished getting the tour, we would be headed to the halfway house, halfway point (whatever!) to get some real-live, local oysters. Gene had also lined up an exciting endeavor for dinner. What I really liked about the guy was his sense of adventure. When Gene travels to a new place, he likes to find his way off of the beaten path and explore the tucked-away places. “Anyone can make a reservation and go eat at a restaurant,” he said. “I like to do things different.” And, what did Gene have on tap for the evening? Why, a private van ride to an old Apalachicola oyster warehouse where he had reserved the entire sixteen-seat diner for his Blue Dolphin flotilla crew. He’d even talked to the gal that owned it, a three generation oysterman, and had talked her into giving his crew a tour of the facility and an oyster history lesson.

I don’t think Phillip and I even checked with each other on it before we both nodded yes when Gene asked us if we wanted to go. “Uhhh, yes please!” Plans were made to meet back at “the boats” around five when the van would come to pick us up. “I hired this gal who was taking some kayakers up the river to haul us into town tonight,” Gene said. “That way we have a DD, too.” I liked that man. He made me hope I would still be hitting it hard enough to need a DD when I’m eighty. Gene was awesome.

With dinner plans set, Phillip and I cleaned up and got ready to venture out to find the Halfway House, which of course required to-go drinks. You never know how far the next drink might be …

Nice.

We started walking around in search of the ‘house,’ when I spotted this place called the Hole in the Wall.

“That’s it,” I told Phillip.

“Hole in the Wall?” he questioned. “I thought Gene said it was the … ”

“Halfway House, yeah,” I interrupted him. “But, Hole in the Wall, Halfway House,” I said, holding my hands up in a sort of po-TAY-to, po-TAH-to fashion. “Trust me, this is it.”

Don’t ask me how, but it made perfect sense to me. Phillip shrugged his shoulders and followed me in and turns out, I was right. They had just dumped a huge bag of oysters right out of the bay onto the shucking station and this big, woolly mammoth-of-a-man was shucking them. We sat down at the bar and told them first thing we wanted a raw dozen. I sat in amazement at the shucker. He was so quick. Best I’ve ever seen.

Stick, crack, pop. Every time. He probably shucked an oyster every fifteen seconds. We sat there salivating while he put our platter together. But, it was so worth it. Finally. Fresh, local, Apalachicola oysters. Not from Texas. Not from Louisiana. These had come right out of the Bay we just sailed in.

We hadn’t had Apalachicola Bay oysters since we set off from Carrabelle to bring the boat home in May of last year. I can assure you, it was a momentous event.

The owner of the place, Dan, even came over (probably intrigued by our moans of satisfaction) to check on us and see how the oysters were. “Aweome, amazing, the best thing we’ve ever eaten!” He was a lot of fun, though. He told us how the oystermen head out before sunrise every morning to start harvesting and how he was able to get in good with the some of the boys in the warehouse so they now set aside one bag for him everyday, which apparently doesn’t last long.

“I get one bag.”

“And in a couple hours, it’s gone.”

We felt lucky to have got one dozen, but with the shucker still cracking and popping back there, we went ahead and ordered another before the bag ran out. Even though we were headed to an oyster diner for dinner. We didn’t care. We were planning to get our fill. In all, we really enjoyed the good salt of the earth folks and atmosphere we found at the “Halfway House.” We filled our bellies halfway with wine and oysters and then sauntered back to “the boats” to catch the van for dinner.

See? There’s the boat right there at the end of the downtown strip! She likes to be in the action.

The other members of the Blue Dolphin flotilla were starting to gather when we got there and we started to make introductions. Most were from the Tampa/St. Petersburg area, were making the trip in sailboats, and had been cruising for 5-10 years. They were all incredibly friendly, laid back folks, with great stories to tell. We were the youngest of the bunch, but definitely not the loudest or the rowdiest. When the van pulled up, this energetic brunette bounced out and asked us if “We chaps was ready to go?” She was a straight-up Aussie with a riveting accent. This evening was just full of surprises. The Roo packed us in the van and headed off, entertaining us all the way with stories of kayakers she often had to rescue in the river. “All balls, no brain,” she said.

The “oyster warehouse” she took us to looked like an old highway restaurant. Just a small white brick building on the side of the road. We shuffled out with the rest of the Dolphin crew eager to see about this sixteen-seat diner inside.

“Phillip? You coming?”

It was a diner indeed, and I think I only counted twelve seats, not sixteen, but there was one for each of us and they sat us down and immediately started serving up some oysters.

Raw as well as oyster “poppers” (with melted monterey jack and an jalapeno) and “Cap’n Jack” style (with buffalo sauce and blue cheese). While the Hole in the Wall oysters we’d had that afternoon were top-notch, Phillip and I both agreed these were the best oysters we’d had the entire trip. Sorry I was too busy eating them and talking (probably with my mouth full) to take any pictures. I did get one of the shrimp gumbo I ordered up for dinner, though. Absolutely delicious.

The oysters and wine kept coming and everyone got real friendly.

The good folks of the Dolphin Crew decided to induct Phillip and I then and there as honorary Blue Dolphin members with a little “mumble-jumble ceremony” and a “gumbo baptizing” Those guys were a real hoot. Funny story, though, we somehow got on the topic of what their favorite stop had been along the West Coast. The gal I was talking to, Joanie (loved her!), couldn’t quite remember where it was at, but she described it as “Paradise Island.” Her partner in crime, Dottie (loved her too!), said “Oh yeah, we called it that because there really was no better name. It was paradise.” The more they kept describing it-a sandy island you could walk all the way around, where you could let your dogs run and play, and on the other side there were old fort ruins- Phillip and I began to piece a few things together. “You mean Ft. McRae?” Phillip asked. “Yeah, that’s it! Ft. McRae,” they all said in unison. They were describing our Bay, our anchorage, the very place we sailed to and dropped anchor every other weekend.

That was their favorite place along the entire coast. Just goes to show you. You don’t really have to travel that far to find the place you want to be. While Phillip and I enjoyed every bit of our trip to/from the Keys, we were starting to think Apalachicola, that sleepy little old Florida town, was quickly becoming one of our favorite places on the Coast.

These folks were kindred spirits. While we had a phenomenal time at dinner, the aftershow was the true treat. After we cleaned out every oyster shell and last drop of gumbo in the diner, the gal who owned the place, Tammy, took us out back for a tour of the facility and an incredibly personal and enlightening rendition of the decline of oystering in Apalachicola.

Tammy’s family had been in the oyster business for three generations-her grandfather, her father and now her. She told us they used to have three trucks they ran to ship the oysters out and she pointed across the highway where the last of them stood derelict, hidden in the weeds with a for sale sign on it.

While most people, including Phillip and I, had thought the decline of the oysters in Apalachicola Bay was likely due to the oil from the BP spill, we were surprised to learn that wasn’t the case. Unfortunately, they thought the oil would get to the oysters and kill them, so harvesters were sent in from all over to Apalachicola Bay with instructions to harvest as much as possible as fast as possible before the oil came. And, so they did, but the oil never came, and they had cleaned the oyster habitats right out. Follow that up with an incredibly dry year, meaning not enough fresh water coming in from the river, and the remaining oysters all but died out. Apparently there has to be the right balance of salinity and fresh water to maintain an oyster habitat. If there is too much saltwater or too much fresh, the oysters will die. It was fascinating to learn about their fragile habitat.

Tammy also showed us around the warehouse, which I thought looked more like a “shuckery.” There were five or six work places (stand-up stucco cubicles, basically) where women stood all day sorting through the oysters and throwing the empty, excess or bad shells out through these little green holes in their station.

Outside, you could still see the piles of oyster shells that had built up under each hole.

Tammy also showed us the back deck where the boats would come in and the harvest would be run through on the conveyor belt for an initial sorting.

It really was a beautiful place on the water and sad to see it now just sitting, a quiet homage to what was once a thriving industry.

Tammy said the oysters are slowly coming back and that she hopes to see the warehouse up and running again in the next ten or so years, but there’s just no guarantee. It was a heartbreaking story, but Tammy had a great spirit about her and an infectious optimism about the return of the oystering in the Bay. In all, the dinner and tour were very engaging. We were definitely glad we met Gene and were honored to have been invited on his Roo-Van-Crew oyster adventure!

Our delightful Aussie DD drove us back to the boats where, to Phillip’s obvious pleasure, most of the Crew began to gather around our boat asking him what type of boat it was, how many feet, what was the beam, when was it built, etc., etc.

Phillip was beaming. “Why, thank you. She’s a Niagara. Hinterhoeller makes them. You may have heard of their non-such yachts. Well, this is the sloop. There’s only one other in Florida.” I’ve heard that speech a million times, but I still love to hear him say it again and again. We love our boat, if you couldn’t tell.

Soon the Blue Dolphiners bid us a warm adieu and we thought about nestling in our boat for the evening, but we realized it was still so early! The Dolphin Crew seems to prefer the early bird special. With dinner, drinks and a tour, we were only looking at 8:30 p.m. So, Phillip and I decided to venture out for one last nightcap and we found ourselves soon at Up the Stairs (home of the “freshest, finest, most creative cocktails in Apalachicola!”) with drink menus in hand.

A jalapeno margarita,

and a mint chocolate chip-tini later,

and well …

We may have outlasted the Blue Dolphin Crew, but just by a drink or two. Those cats were wild!

Who You Gonna Call?

December 2, 2014December 1, 2014anniedike

May 7, 2014:

So, the whole world and only Carrabelle’s got it … I know your curiosity is killing you. As one faithful follower put it, “I’m sure the server crashed with the flood of responses you received.” Touche. But, I also had one correct guess, from a true Panacea native! Here’s the story:

They say the city was having problems with tourists making unauthorized long distance phone calls on its police phone. You see, now you call the police and it rings to a station. But, this was back in the day of the payphone. Call the five-oh in Carrabelle back in the 60’s and it rang to a regular old pay phone, one bolted to the side of the Shop-and-Stop (or some similar) building at the corner of U.S. 98 and Tallahassee Street. Despite harsh warnings, mean stares and policemen running at them, swinging batons overhead, the good folks passing through Carrabelle just couldn’t seem to pass up the urge to sneak up to the phone, pick up the receiver illegally and give sweet Aunt Ida back in Nebraska a ring. Just for kicks. “Hey Ida, you’ll never guess where I’m calling from … “

(And, yes, that photo is so good, you can buy it here).

In an effort to solve the overwhelming problem, Johnnie Mirabella (yes, from Carrabelle-uh), St. Joe Telephone Company’s sole Carrabelle employee at the time, first tried moving the police phone down the road to the Piggly Wiggly (or some similar) building, but the wily tourists discovered the phone at the Pig and continued their rampant illegal calls to out-of-state kin. In addition to the escalating tourist telephone problem, Johnnie Mirabella also noticed the officers were getting drenched when they had to answer the police phone on the side of the building in the rain. So, when the St. Joe Telephone Company decided to replace its worn-out phone booth in front of Burda’s Pharmacy with a new one, Mirabella seized the opportunity. On March 10, 1963, Mirabella had the old booth moved from Burda’s to its current site on U.S. 98 under the chinaberry tree and the police phone put inside. Not only were the good men in blue of Carrabelle now protected from the elements when they had to answer a police call and the rogue tourist collect calls deterred but the booth also became the first, last and only — WORLD’S SMALLEST POLICE STATION. Boom.

Seriously, the whole world, and only Carrabelle’s got it.

There’s the wise Mirabella there. Ain’t he a looker?

He probably looked better with a mustache.

Everyone did in the 70’s.

Eventually the dial was removed from the phone, making it impossible for tourists to make calls. Sorry Ida! But, the booth has been featured on various television shows — Real People, Ripley’s Believe It or Not, The Today Show, Johnny Carson — as well as the movie Tate’s Hell which was produced at Florida State University. Along with World’s Smallest Police Station t-shirts, you can also purchase hats, visors, postcards, and calendars bearing the distinct, copyrighted WSPS logo.

“I’ll take one visor please.”

They say life has not always been easy for the retired phone booth, though. Vandals have ripped phones out of the booth and shot holes through the glass. It has been knocked over by a pickup truck, and a tourist once asked a gas station attendant to help him load it into his vehicle to take it back to Tennessee. “Hey Gomer, help me load this here booth up into the bed-uh-my truck. Gramma Bickers will love this!” I mean … I really don’t need to tell stories when the truth is actually far more entertaining.

Needless to say, Phillip and I got a real kick out of the World’s Smallest Phone Booth when we were wandering around in downtown Carrrabelle. We popped our head in a few other places – one rough-and-rowdy looking motorcycle bar named Harry’s to restock our rum supply.

I swear I saw a guy in the back pick up his cue stick when we walked in and start smacking it in his other hand, much like a police baton, and I started thinking about that phone booth. We paid the nice 6’3″, 300 pound man behind the bar and gently made our way out. We then stopped at the trusty IGA to stock up on provisions for the boat for tomorrow’s passage to Apalachicola. Once we got everything stowed away on the boat, we were excited to get out and pay the fine crew at Fathom’s a visit that night, sip white wine, indulge on their fresh oysters and take in the live music for the evening. But, when we got there, we were incredibly disheartened to find Fathom’s was closed that night. That night!?! Of all nights. It ‘ppears the good folks at Fathom’s only find it fit to open their doors to the rogue tourists of Carrabelle Thursday through Sunday and we had the good luck to come on a Wednesday. But, we were only planning to spend only one night in Carrabelle so that was that. No Fathom’s. We headed back to The Fisherman’s Wife hoping to get some good ole’ Apalachicola Bay oysters there but we were thwarted again! “We’re out of oysters,” she said.

“What else can I get ya?” Bollucks! We ended up sharing a perfectly fine Fisherman’s Fried Platter and calling it an early night. Having thoroughly enjoyed the World’s Smallest Police Station and our downtown jaunt, we felt we’d satisfied our Carrabelle craving and we set our sights on Apalachicola in hopes of finding some good, local oysters tomorrow. Also, the droopy withered docklines and power cord on our neighbor’s slip told us it was a good time to toss our fresh lines and get the heck out of Dodge.

May 8, 2014:

“Seven point three!” I shouted, smiling goofily like a kid at the fair.

We were making 7.3. We had a spectacular sail across the Apalachicola Bay. And, it was high time, too. As you recall we had spent the last 30 hours on passage in our SAILboat doing anything but sailing across the Gulf. Have wind, will travel. Have not, won’t.

So, we were thrilled to watch our boat frolic and sprint across the Bay.

Phillip had to take a business call at one point and I remember him telling the guy, “Yeah, I’m not in the office today. Calling from out of town. It’s a bit windy here.” A bit windy …. We were doing SEVEN POINT THREE! An incredibly sporty sail across the Bay. Nothing we love more.

We zipped across the Bay in just under five hours. And, what’s even better? You know what we saw as we were coming under the bridge to George St. Island?

Mmmmhhh-Hmmmm … that’s right. Oystermen! Harvesting piles of oysters right out of the Apalachicola Bay. We saw several boats out there harvesting.

“You save a couple dozen for us boys!” we shouted as we sailed by. It was great to see them out there harvesting local oysters when we had heard so many times during the trip to/from the Keys that all of the oysters were coming exclusively from Texas and Louisiana. We were excited to get our hands on some fresh, local oysters, harvested right out of the Apalachicola Bay!

As we made our way under the St. George Island bridge and into the mouth of the Apalachicola River,

we heard a lot of talk over the radio about how they had not dredged the pass into the Apalachicola River in a while and there was some shoaling to look out for. As luck would have it, just as we were coming in, a large shrimp boat was coming out.

It was a tight squeeze, but he called us up on the radio and said there was plenty of depth for us on his port side. Real nice guy and we were thankful he was communicative, knowledgeable about the pass and the depth and attentive to a sailboat making its way in under sail. And, it was pretty cool to watch him pass by so close. I swear I thought one of his big shrimping arms (yes, that’s what I call them) was going to snag our genoa.

But, we made it through safe and sound under the John Gorrie Memorial bridge into the Apalachicola River and up to the City Dock. We had checked out this dock many times when we spent time in Apalachicola while our boat was stuck in Carrabelle having the transmission replaced. It was right downtown. Just dock your boat, jump off, and you’re right in the heart of the hustle and bustle of ole’ Apalach. Lookout!

I fully expected someone to mozey by in a horse-drawn carriage any minute.

We weren’t sure about the depth coming in but we had heard the river was really high at the time (remember the torrential rains and flooding we’d had in April in Northwest Florida) so we figured that would work to our advantage. We kept an eye on the depth and made our way in gently. We also didn’t know if the docking was free or how it worked, but we eased up without hitting bottom and tied her off anyway, hoping to find out. I guess the tourists in these parts do seem to get a little sneaky.

But, we’re an honest bunch of sneaks, so we started looking around for a contact and wouldn’t you know it, having just left the town with the world’s smallest police station, we found ourselves once again, resorting to the police. There was a lone sign on a pole at the city dock that read:

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!!”

Zeee BEST Key Lime Pie on zee Island

September 7, 2014September 7, 2014anniedike

April 27, 2014:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uhhh-huh. That one.

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

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

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

“Zee BEST key lime pie on zee island!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please!”

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

Cheers!

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

Good stuff!

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

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

Oh my!

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

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

She had stepped on it.

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

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

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

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

Yum.

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

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

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

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

And Phillip got the thai snapper.

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

Book Swap Mojo

September 2, 2014April 2, 2015anniedike

April 26, 2014:

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

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

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

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

My what?!?

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

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

Whooo-pssshh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Time by Sailboat

August 27, 2014August 27, 2014anniedike

April 26, 2014:

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

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

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

Ferry Boy: “What for?”

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

Ferry Boy: “Lemme see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheers!

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

Okay, so there were SOME fanny-packers …

“Next time, we’ll be over THERE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next time!