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| This boat will be mine! |
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| A jolly saucy crew. |
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| Cap'n Davey, 1ST Mate Jan, Cat, and Gail (Ring), Gary, and Mrs. Ruth Decker |
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| be careful |
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| 190 miles!!!!! |
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| "Let's drop the big one and see what happens." |
I know you are all waiting like the fisherman (with baited breath) to see if we made it across the Gulf. I'm happy to report that we are safely ensconced at Laishley Marina in Punta Gorda. We left Appalachicola- a small town with remnants of the old working waterfront, an incredible but pricey nautical antique shop, and way too many eaterys that priced their entrees 23 instead of $23.00. Still a nice little town, but no $2 beer. Our weather karma was excellent in that the forecast called for light westerlies for the day, a calm, full moon night, and northeasterlies building in manana. At 10 AM we motorsailed south out of Government Cut in the company of our cetaceous acolytes, the dolphin crew, and headed for Anclote Key in the vicinity of Tarpon Springs, 140 miles away. The Gulf here is a clear aqua with dozens of men-of-war (beautiful balloon-shaped jellyfish) and no signs of the BP blobules. We had a fine run oil day and a splendid sunset. Soon the dark set in. The moon hadn't risen yet, so we hurtled forward blindly into the darkness which was akin to driving down the road in a white out (Except it was black) and we had only the stars and the red compass light and the glow of the GPS to comfort us. A bit unsettling to say the least. Where are those unlit oil platforms? But, then an orange glow appeared in the East and soon all was bright by the lunaresence. (Jan says this isn't a word, but I say now it is). Such a night. The sudden, explosive sighs of dolphin unseen, the loom of shrimpers' lights far off shore, the running lights of another boat overtaking us slowly, and then when we were convinced they were heading for us, shearing off and passing us to port. Whew- no radio or phone contact with shore. When came the dawn we were light-headed and ecstatic, so we decided to take advantage of the favorable winds and changed course to make landfall further South at Tampa, as Christmas was nigh and Punta Gorda (Grandmother's house) was not. That afternoon, after a trek of 190 miles, we decided to anchor out at a wildlife key (Egmont) at the entrance to Tampa Bay just across from Fort Desoto instead of in a more protected nook because we wanted the isolation even though we might not be protected from the Northeasterlies. Well, we dropped our usual 35 lb CQR on 30' of heavy chain and 30' of rode in ten ft of water (I know, it's skinny everywhere down here) and then threw out a huge old style Luke fisherman for good luck. We had a great evening, basking in the glow of our first salt water crossing until the NE wind really picked up to about 25 and started bouncing us around, you guessed it, about 2 am. I got up, took a look at the little breakers on the white beach about 40' off our stern where the chart indicates a wreck- which isn't there yet-, checked the two anchors, reset the gps anchor alarm and the shallow depth alarm, climbed into my foulies, and promptly sank into a deep and dreamless sleep while silent stars went by. Jan didn't have such a peaceful night, but the boat got cleaned up real good. Next morning, it took some careful planning and some hard work to weigh both anchors and get off the shallows against a small gale. We had a great ride out into the Gulf (ALWAYS watching for crab/ crack/ crock pots which will wrap around your prop} and then south to Venice under main and yankee jib. Anchored in a tight little spot off Venice Yacht Club that night, and in the morning, exited the easy, wide channel out of Venice and banged our way into a stiff southeasterly all the way to Boca Grand. Man, were we starting to get SALTY. All the bronze was green with envy. Put Sticky Fingers on the Sony.We spent the night on the hook off Useppa Is. and dinghied over to Cabbage Key for a celebration of our arrival in our (second) home waters. Supposably, this is where that sellout Jimmy Buffet wrote cheeseburgers in paradise, so we had one and some cerveza mas fina. It was dimmned GOOD. Another rousing sail for 20 miles up Charlotte Harbor with too much sail up, and we were at PG, anchored off Fisherman's village, dinghy docked at Grandma's and putting up the murdered Frasier fir tree. Hie Ho!
