Well, we have definitely found life in the slow lane.  And, surprisingly we love it. 

We are located on a mooring ball in Boot Key Harbor right in the middle of Marathon, FL, part of the Florida Keys.  This is quite an interesting place, this marina we are staying in.  It reminds me a lot of the intergalatic bar scene in the movie "Star Wars."  I know Kim has never seen that movie (and if she can help it, never will).  However about halfway through the film there is this snippet where the characters all convene in this bar for a drink.  The bar was filled with all kinds of aliens and species from all over the galaxy.  In the movie, everyone was non plussed about the fact that the person next to them might have four heads or six sets of eyes or whatever.  The bar was simply a meeting place for stargazed voyagers and beyond that, not much mattered.

Here in the Harbor, there is a lot of that same sentiment.  Boatwise, there is everything from multimillion dollar yachts to floating derelects.  Peoplewise there are sailors from every walk of life.  There are multimillionaires and those barely squeaking by on social security.  The great thing about this is that nobody cares.  Everyone down here is doing their own thing and supremely laid back.

Our day starts about 0730 when we get up and read the paper (on the internet) and have breakfast out on our back 'patio'.  I have noticed that since here, we are eating more 'fat' food than we did back in Ohio.  Pop tarts or leftover Key Lime pie seems to sneak into our meal plans anymore.  Good news is that we have lost weight since being here, so I guess we are okay on that front.

Promptly at 0900 there is a radio program broadcast over the marine radio channels.  It is a moderated - freewheeling account of the days happenings in and around Marathon.  New boaters in the marina introduce themselves and those getting ready to leave offer their goodbyes.  We are reminded that yoga classes are at 1000 or there is a pickup tennis league at 1100.  Today there was a briefing put on by some fellow boaters about making the trip to the Bahamas.  Anyone contimplating going was encouraged to attend and those who have been there, generously offered any tips that they might have.  Beyond that, there is the crap (I mean craft) group, basketball leagues, walkers and lots of parties.  A few weeks ago there was a Super Bowl party held at the main marina building where they had large screen projectors with the game on.  There must have been 200 people there, watching the game and enjoying a beer (or two).

So, we sit, glued to our chairs as we hear all about the day's events on the radio.  Additionally, part of the program highlights anyone who has anything to buy, sell or trade.  Someone looking for help rebuilding a pump (or whatever) can solicit help via this channel.  This radio program can also be a bit of a soap opera as some boaters are called out for making minor transgressions of the rules.  The highlight thus far was when an amourous young couple was asked to keep their... ummm.....'voices' down as their 'adventures' were making quite a racket at night.  As a matter of fact, the boaters in question were moored just down the way from Maya.  When I heard what was going on I thought they were watching porn on their TV and had the volume way up.  Anyway, this went on for quite a while that night and made great fodder for the radio show the next morning.

After the daily radio show (which last about 30 minutes) we generally putz around the boat.  There are always some project that need attention and for the next two hours or so, we look busy.  By then, its time for lunch.  See?  Isn't retirement grand!

After lunch we head to the beach.  There is the most perfect beach we have ever seen a short 10 minute dinghy ride from the harbor.  The sand is like powder and the views are spectacular.  There are lots of palm trees, which I like as I am not a sun lover.  Shade on a beach is great for me.  This beach is run by the city of Marathon and has first class facilities.  From volleyball to cookout shelters, you won't find a better place to enjoy the ocean anywhere.

We generally spend several hours enjoying the sun, sand and refreshments.  We are getting to know many of the regulars who also come to the beach everyday.  Everyone is so nice.

By 4 o'clock or so, we head back to the 'mothership'.  Once back on board Maya, we enjoy happy hour while getting ready for the evening's festivities.  Tonight for instance, we are headed out to the movies.  Sometimes we meet some other boaters for dinner or drinks or once in awhile we just go to Home Depot or Publix for supplies.

I hate to admit this, but by nine o'clock we are usually tuckered out.  There is no TV here in the harbor unless you have a satellite dish.  We have one but haven't hooked it up yet.  We really haven't missed TV so much and doubt if we ever will connect it.  So our ritual of watching the boob tube until we drift off has been replaced by reading a few chapters of a good book or straining our ears to hear the couple making all the noise on the mooring ball down the way.

Anyway, its all good.

The past several weeks have been just a whirlwind.  We have been working on the backlog of boat projects non-stop.  On top of that, we moved Maya from her temporary home in Stuart to her winter home in Marathon, FL.  What a wonderful trip it was.  More on that adventure later.

In the meantime, I wanted to share some photos of Maya's renovation.  We were able to, among other things, finally repaint her non-stick areas and she looks great!

Like any good paint job, the most work is put into the preparation of the surfaces.  We cleaned and scrubbed like there was no tomorrow.  Throw in a little acetone for the removal of any lingering oil or grease (and brain cells.... that stuff is strong) and we were ready to tape it off.  I think we must have used a mile of the blue painter's tape, but it was worth the effort.  Gone was the faded old blue decking, replaced with a lighter tan that was more in tune with our teak and bimini colors.

After a couple of weeks of boat projects, we were finally happy with Maya's condition.  Its been over two years since we bought her and we are now right where we want to be, the exception being the makeover of her fabrics, window treatments and furniture.  But hey, that is the admirals department.  My job is to keep the boat afloat.

So now, its off to the beach for some much needed R&R.  

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We had dinner the other night with our old friends Steve & Diane Koch and new friends Pat & Chuck Berry.  Both Defever owners, it shaped up to be a wonderful evening of food, drink and boat stories.  Steve & Di live in Stuart on their boat, and Chuck and Pat have been here a long time as well.  Both couples knew the area well, and when the decision on where to eat came up, they both zeroed in on the same restaurant.

A sushi bar.

I love sushi and all things seafood.  Kim does not.  I will eat anything that swims in the sea.  Kim will not.

For the entire time we have been married, Kim would not sample, not even nibble anything from the ocean other than fish (cooked).  Being from Ohio doesn't help as the seafood we get isn't exactly fresh.  My guess is that the most popular 'pescado' dish eaten in our neck of the woods is the Filet o Fish from McDonald's.   (BTW, the filet o fish and the hash browns are the exact same food item.  They simply add tartar sauce and cheese to make it a 'fish' sandwich.) Now that we are boaters and will be near the water, there is a whole new world of seafood delicacies awaiting us.

So when Kim found out we were headed for sushi, she kinda wilted.  Always a good sport, she didn't say, "let's go somewhere else" or "I hate sushi", but rather "sure, why not?"  Usually she can find some kind of food alternative when we get into a situation like this, but that night, my intuition told me otherwise.


The group decided to get the house specialty, the sushi 'boat'.  I must say that is was beautiful.  It was arguably the best seafood display I have ever seen and boy did it taste good.  Kim did manage to find something else to order, however midway through the meal something magical happened.

I don't know if it was the wine, our table mates or the "new" Kim in charge, but she decided to take a whack at some of the sushi items.  I am not just talking California rolls here.  She was trying octopus and crab.  I think I even saw her take a bite of her long time nemesis, shrimp!

I wish that I could report to you that she loved all of the things she tried and that a whole new world of restaurant choices was now open to us.  Such was not to be the case.  She really didn't like anything she tried.  But hey, this whole cruising thing is about trying new things and Kim started things off with a bang.

A few days later we swung by the Golden Arches for a quick breakfast.  As Kim dived into the hash browns, I couldn't help but smile.




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When I was younger, I like reading about Greek Mythology.  All those tragic heroes were interesting to me.  I often wondered how those folks managed to get themselves into so much trouble and why the punishment for their infractions was so swift and severe.

My favorite character was Sisyphus.  Sisyphus was a bad dude.  His crimes included murder, incest, avarice and deceitfulness.  Interestingly enough however was that his eventual punishment was for hubris against the gods and not for the other awful things he did.  The thing that most people remember about Sisyphus however was his punishment.  For eternity, he was sentenced to roll a huge rock up to the top of a mountain, only to have it roll back to the bottom before he could ever complete his task.  Talk about your exercises in futility!

In some ways, I think that Poseidon, the god of the seas, is looking down on us from the Pantheon, delivering his own brand of 21st. century discipline to boat owners around the globe.  What is that punishment you ask?

Any boat owner can tell you without missing a beat that the punishment I speak of is cleaning.  Like Sisyphus, we have been relegated to spend the better part of whatever 'boating years' we have to scrubbing, polishing and shining our ships.  It never ends.  Once we have gotten the boat all spiffed up, the process starts over again.  Round and round the hull we go,  endlessly removing dirt and grime and salt and filth.  

To add insult to injury, Poseidon has hackled us with no ordinary dirt.  No, the scum that we must deal with won't come off with ordinary soap and soft rags.  The super race of mold and mildew boaters face is unlike that of mere mortals.  It is industrial strength.



A few weeks ago, Kim decided to tackle a job that we have both been dreading.  It seems that our fenders have seen better days and the time had come to bring them back to new life.  I don't know exactly what had overtaken their once resplendent luster, but the fenders were now stained in an ugly gray brown hue that refused to come off.

We tried every cleaner, polish and soap known to man.  We had Comet, SOS pads and even steel wool at work on these bad boys at one point.  After several hours on just one fender, Kim achieved moderate success.  However, the price was high and her determination was low.  We still had three or four more to go and I could see the energy waning from her soul.

Ah, Sisyphus.  How did you survive?

An hour or so later, I noticed Kim on the computer.  She was busy looking up prices for new fenders.  A few clicks of the mouse later, she was free from the bondage of fender duty as four new fenders were on their way to us.  I can't say that I blame her.  Those fenders were nasty.  This isn't something that we would normally do, nonetheless, it did feel good to drop the old guys in the dumpster.  It felt like we were cheating the gods.

Then I remembered back to my friend Sisyphus.  His punishment was for hubris.

I can't imagine what Poseidon has in store for us now.

I took the plunge.  For years I have been talking about getting my SCUBA certification and last week I finally did something about it.  

The main reason I wanted to do this was so I wouldn't have to pay a diver to clean the bottom of our boat every month or so.  Lots of barnacles and 'junk' accumulate on your bottom and if you don't get them off, it can affect your boat's performance.  The cost of the course was equal to about two cleanings, so I thought this experience would pay for itself in a few months.

The dive shop where I would be taking the classes sent me a very large package in the mail with all the course materials inside.  It also contained several DVD's and workbooks we were to complete before the training began.  All in all, I spent about a week going over everything.  The course itself was a three day classroom/pool event.  We went over the course material one more time and then headed to the pool for some hands on training.

There were five of us in the course:  three 20 something year olds from south Florida and two fifty-ish guys from Ohio.  

We met on a Friday afternoon, the first of three days of 'scuba' immersion.  The first thing the instructor asked was whether we had watched the videos and completed the materials.  The two senior citizens of course had done everything.  The young turks hadn't even taken the plastic off the books yet. Sipping his Red Bull, youth #1 asked if the test at the end was a 'take-home'.  It was.

The ads for the course highlighted that everything was included.  Instructors, pool time and open water certification were all part of the price.  What wasn't included was any equipment needed to actually dive after you completed the course.  For that, I found out, one would pay dearly.  The dive shop did provide some rental gear if you wanted, however I didn't relish the thought of putting a regulator in my mouth that had been previously used by another customer.  

Of course, you could buy all you needed right there. It was all on sale.  I had no idea you needed so much stuff just to go underwater.  Here is a what a basic diver needs to have before he jumps in.

These are just the basics, mind you.  When it comes to the water, the sky is the limit.

I bought the bare minimum I needed to complete the course and get my certification.  I figured I could always add things later on after I had a feel for what was really necessary.  Even so, I was going to have to clean the bottom of Maya many many times in order to break even.

The in-water portion of the training was a real blast.  We started off with the fitness test which consisted of swimming 16 laps of the pool and then treading water for 5 minutes.  Old guys smoked the young guys (who probably smoke too much).  After that, we practiced using our equipment, getting used to the fit and feel.  It was all very cool.

The next three days consisted of practicing emergency procedures, equipment malfunctions and diving techniques.  At the end, I really did feel confident and prepared to tackle this new hobby.  Our instructor constantly reminded us that our certification was only a 'license to learn' and that we only knew enough now to not kill ourselves in the water.  As Clint Eastwood would say, "a man has to know his limitations."

The last day as we were packing up our gear, one of the young turks asked me if I wanted to race him and his buddies in a few laps of the pool (apparently they were hung-over the first day and were a little embarrassed at their performances).

In my best 'Clint' voice I responded....  "sure".   "Are you feeling lucky?   .... punk."

They didn't get it.  I am not sure that they even know who Clint Eastwood is and I would bet that they have never seen a Dirty Harry movie (and hence didn't recognize his famous quote or my wonderful impersonation).   What they do know however is that the second thrashing I gave them, "Made my day."




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When I was in college, I did my fair share of bar hopping.  It wasn't unusual to go to three or four bars in one night, taking in the 'ambiance' of spilled beer and sloppy drunks.  To make the evening a success, all I needed was a pitcher (or two) of beer and a good supply of quarters.   Happily those days are behind me now as I would much rather spend the evening in one spot, quietly contemplating the finer points of the local cuisine while sharing a bottle of wine with 'The Admiral.'

Okay, so I will admit it right off the bat.  I am boring.  There.  I said it.  Give me a comfortable place to sit for the evening and I am happy as a clam.  I don't need to work the room anymore.  I hate being in a place where you have to shout to be heard and where everyone there is so much younger that you look like you are visiting your college kids during Parents Weekend.  Its quality over quantity for me.  I can nurse a 10 year old Pinot all night long and never get up once.

That being said, a significant amount of our 'on shore' boating experiences have either begun or ended at a local establishment.  I am not sure why that is so.  I would like to think that when we first arrive on the scene, a quick drink gives us a chance to chat up the bartender a little so we can find out if anything is happening in town.  Maybe we are just thirsty from all the work of dinghying ashore.  Who knows?

Anyway, we go to a few bars now and then.  Who cares right?  We are old enough.

There is just one small problem.... and its with me.  I have started this slightly strange habit of photographing our food and drink.  I know its weird.  I know its embarrassing.  Kim doesn't particularly like it either as flashbulbs going off inside a quiet and darkened bar seems to draw attention to us.  But, I like it anyway.

 

I think this all started when I was flying the international routes at Delta Air Lines.  We went to a lot of pubs/bars/cantinas/beer-gardens back then and I wanted to share the experience with those back home.  Every bar had its own personality.  Unlike the places we have in the States, European bars have a lot of character.  Visitors can get away with almost anything over there.  You can do the dorkiest things and the locals will just look the other way and mutter to themselves, "toursits!"  I routinely would take a few shots (photos) at every place we visited and now have a pretty good collection of my favorite hot spots.

So, we are in Saint Augustine and we stumbled upon the neatest place.  It was styled as a Spanish Tapas bar but decorated in early Ernest Hemingway.  Sort of Antonio Banderas meets Old Florida.  I thought it was really neat, as did Kim.  On top of that, it was 100 degrees outside and they had the a/c on full blast.  It was heaven to be inside.

We could sit anywhere we like as the place was deserted.  It had just opened for the evening and we were the first to arrive.  I immediately saw these huge overstuffed couches that ringed the lounge area.  Those soft cushions had my name all over them.  I was going to settle in for the long haul at this place.

They had a terrific wine list, lots of imported and local brews and a menu that was out of this world.  On top of that, they had live music scheduled for later in the evening.  It doesn't get any better than that.  So we worked our way down the menu ordering a little of this and a little of that.  Being a tapas bar, it was set up for little portions meant to be shared.  Perfect.

So the server starts bringing out all this wonderful stuff and I can't help myself but whip out my camera and take a few shots with every new dish.  Each plate was more interesting than the last.  The colors were vibrant.  The presentation was a work of art and the taste... well you'll have to take my word for that.  I am not sure what they were thinking back in the kitchen.  Was I a food critic?  .... an author researching his next cook book?  ... a chef, scoping out the local competition?  They didn't know.  All they could tell was that there was a strange person out there, taking lots of photos of the food. 

We spent three or four hours there that night and I must have rolled off about 30 pictures.  I was like 'Rainman' with that camera.  No crouton got off digitally uncaptured.  Finally Kim told me to knock it off as I was becoming a pest.  Enough was enough.

"One more picture," I said.

"Tourists!".... must have thought the waiter.

There is the old adage that says there are "those who have and those who will".  Now I know that saying can apply to a lot of circumstances however in the boating world, it concerns running your boat aground.

Up until last week, we were part of the group that "will".  Unfortunately now, we are part of the group that 'have'.  Yes, I am here to say that we ran our boat up onto a sand bar in Saint Augustine harbor.

We were having a wonderful day cruising from Palm Coast northbound towards Saint Augustine.  The plan was to spend a day or so there, taking in the sights and enjoying the oldest city in America.  We made it to the anchorage that is just off the city's sea wall and were looking for a place to drop anchor.  There are a lot of boats parked here as it is a popular place to go.

We found what seemed like a good spot:  not too close to the other boats, but close in enough to the dinghy dock that we didn't have to trek a mile or so to get there.  Anyway, we were getting set to drop the anchor when at the last minute, we had a small problem with the chain tackle.  (one of the bridles was stuck).  I ran down to the engine room to get a tool to fix it and by the time I got back up on deck, the current had moved us a little closer to the boat parked next to us.

Not wanting to be elbow to elbow with our neighbor, we put the boat in gear and swung around to get back to where we were.  Now the navigation instruments told us we were in 13 feet of water, and that is a lot for us.  We have two of these gizmos and they both said the same thing.   However, in the short time we were moving the boat, the depth went from 13 feet to 3 feet and the next thing I knew, we were not moving anymore.

Astonished, I checked out the depth finders and they confirmed my worst fear.  We were stuck.

I am not really sure how we went from 13 feet to 3 in such a short distance, but we did.  Apparently the harbor has a lot of bars hidden here and there and we caught one.  Okay, so it is no big deal.  Besides our pride, there wasn't any damage done.  The key was not to make a bad situation any worse.  How do you do that?  Well, many boat pilots might try to power their way off the sand bar.  Not knowing exactly what you are caught on or how far forward it extends makes this a bad idea.  Other pilots will try and go backwards (from whence they came) and while this is a plausible game plan, you really don't know how far up on the bar you are and you certainly don't want to damage the props or rudders.

The safest and least expensive way to go is to determine if you are at low to mid tide and simply wait for high tide to lift you off the obstruction.  This was certainly an option for us except it was hot out and we wanted to get into town as soon as possible.  Option two is to pick up the radio and call for help.... which is what we did.

In the boating world, there are a couple of "Triple A" type organizations that will come out and help you in these situations.  They are really great to have.  If you run aground, run out of gas or your engines simply quit working, they will come out and tow you back to safety.  One tenth of a boat unit a year is cheap insurance in my mind.  Anyway, we have always subscribed to this service but have never used it.  I thought now might be a good time to cash in on our annual benefit.

So I picked up the radio and gave them a call.  I told them what had happened and where we were located.  They said they would be there in 20 minutes and they were.   After a bit of paperwork and some small talk, the rescue boat operator tied one end of a line to one of Maya's stern cleats and attached the other end to his boat.  A few minutes of soft backwards pulling and we were off the bar.

The guy was very nice and he took great care of our boat and our egos.  Neither was damaged beyond repair.

In some ways this was another rite of passage for us.  No longer newbies, I think we can safely say now that we are part of the ones that 'have'.