Hey guys! I haven't dropped off the
face of the earth, I promise!
I haven't updated since before we left
for Sanibel, and for good reason. The last few weeks (months, really)
have been a complete whirlwind. Shortly after we got home from Sanibel,
we booked a flight to Iowa for a family emergency. Since returning from
Iowa, the whirlwind continues; trying to catch up at work, seeing family, and
keeping up with the never-ending list of errands and to-dos. It already
feels like eons since I've had my toes in the sand, but then I look at the
calendar and sadly realize it's only been a few weeks.
As you may or may not know, we bought
our boat in early June. We named her Pretty Dang Sweet, because by all accounts she really was. The first time we dropped our boat in the water,
I was terrified. I had never really been on a boat, much less owned
one. We took her to one of the few lakes in our area that has no
horsepower restriction- our 85hp Evinrude didn’t quite fit the “10 HP or under”
profile. I was absolutely convinced we were going to sink. The guy
at the boat place had convinced me that she would float, but I was still
wary. We cranked her up to full power and glided across the lake, and in
that moment all the reservations I had were gone and I was in love. The speed,
the freedom, the fishing- it was a small piece of heaven.
Fishing has always been one of my
favorite activities. Nearly every summer night growing up my dad would
take me down to the pond on the property of the trailer park we lived in, and
we would fish until dark. My dad had been married before he met my mother
and had three strong boys. I’m not sure he knew what to do with a girl,
so I’m sure he was relieved when we found something in common.
It was no surprise when we were
planning our annual trip to Sanibel that Mr. Flamingo wanted to drive down so
we could bring the boat. Finding a place on the island that had a dock
(that we could afford) was more than challenging. There are lots of
places that have water access, but we couldn’t exactly afford the $8,000 per
week price tag. After an exhaustive search I found one place that stood
out; it was called The Lazy Hideaway. I was fond of the name, and the
pictures online were breathtaking. It was an “Old Florida” style cottage
situated on the back waters, just 100 or so feet across the street to the Gulf
of Mexico. Whenever we go to Sanibel, I spend every waking moment
searching for seashells, so to have the best of both worlds was the biggest
selling point.
After a long and hot 20 hour drive from
Pennsylvania (our AC quit working in North Carolina), seeing our boat tied up
to the dock was quite a site.
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| Mr. Flamingo bringing our boat to the dock for the first time. |
The property was gorgeous- shore birds all
around, Mullet jumping out of the water, and a freshly fallen coconut resting
near the porch steps. Not 20 minutes after arriving we ran next door to
the marina and purchased 2 dozen live shrimp, grabbed our fishing poles, and
hopped in the boat to go explore. We promptly got stuck on a mud flat 3
minutes later. The marina guy had warned us to stay close to the docks
and apparently he meant it. We were close, but apparently not quite close enough. Given the age of our boat and the motor,
there was no automatic trim. Hubby hopped in the water which turned out
to be only knee deep and attempted to lift the motor out of the muck. A
man on a stand-up paddle board floated over and offered to help. He
warned us to get as close to the docks as possible next time where the water is
deeper, especially at low tide later that day. (I was incredulous that THIS was
high tide!) Once we were free, we (slowly) followed the man’s
instructions and hugged the docks on the way out to the channel.
An hour later, we were stuck again,
this time in a new location. We had drifted just past the channel markers
while we were fishing and didn’t realize it until the depth alarm on our fish
finder started singing. By that time it was too late- we were in 12 inches
of water and going nowhere fast. As Shane again lifted us out of the
muck, I watched jellyfish and stingrays float by and grew increasingly
nervous. He made it back in the boat unscathed, and we decided to go back
to the cottage—after all that, it was time for an adult beverage.
The next week was absolute
paradise. The nature in the back waters was absolutely
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| A manatee plays peekaboo, but my camera wasn't quick enough! |
stunning. I
saw manatees for the first time in the wild as they swam 2 feet from our boat. I
cried the first time we saw them, marveling at their grace. We saw them every day after; swimming under
the bridge at Blind Pass, gliding in the back waters out to the channel, and
swimming along the docks on the same route as our boat, almost knowing that the
middle was too shallow. We saw stingrays
jump straight out of the water, almost 3 feet in the air. We saw pods of dolphin with their young
calves playing near our boat in Pine Island Sound. I felt like a nautical
Snow White, surrounded by all of nature’s precious animals that seemed to be
welcoming me home.
After a few days we got a bit braver,
and headed out to Pine Island Sound to visit Cayo Costa Island, which was about
an hour boat ride. We snorkeled for hours, finding beautiful sand dollars
and Sunray Venus shells. Once the water started getting choppy we headed
back, knowing that a storm could pop up at any time- we are well versed in the
weather
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| Cayo Costa as seen from our boat |
patterns of SWFL in the summer. Once we were back in the cove
near our place, we dropped our lines in for a while. Shane caught a nice
redfish, and lost another when the line popped after an exhaustive fight. I was
hoping for a fish to show him up. (My competitive side comes out when we go
fishing.) Just after I had a nibble, my eyes widened as I witnessed a
cloud-to-ground(water?) bolt of lightning just beyond the mangroves we were sitting
near. A horn sounded in the distance and we flew (read: 5mph) back to the
cottage.
Over the week we were there, we caught
so many fish so exotic and different than our freshwater fish back home.
Redfish, Mangrove Snapper, Sea Trout, Catfish, Crevalle Jack, and one very
large Spanish Mackerel that we decided to put back (a decision I later
regretted upon learning what delicious eating they are). We didn't have a
charter or a guide, just the two of us and our boat. I even managed to catch
the biggest fish of the trip, a 25” redfish. We had found two
perfect honey holes, one of which we didn’t discover until the day before we
had to pull the boat out of the water. That day’s trip was cut short when
the horns sounded again, and I could have sworn I saw a small water spout
forming in the distance. We vowed to go back to that spot the next
morning, and fish all day until it was time to pull the boat out before the
marina closed at 4:30. We were leaving the following day at sunrise, so
it was unfortunately what we had to do.
The next morning is a blur, punctuated
by events that even now don’t seem real. We woke up before the sun rose,
and I decided to lie in bed just a few minutes longer while Shane made
coffee. Suddenly I heard him yell expletives that would make a sailor
blush, and then silence. I slowly crawled out of bed, puttered into the kitchen
and saw what I never wanted or expected to see. Through the picture
window looking out to the dock, I saw Shane waist deep in mud, muck and
saltwater desperately trying to right our listing boat. I ran out to the
water, barefoot and still in my pajamas and immediately began trying to help
him. We tried everything we could think of to keep it from completely
sinking, but the back end was already flooded and our belongings floated around
us. We started bailing water and throwing all the items we could
onto the dock and onto shore. The seats I had just reupholstered started
to float away, tools that were a Christmas gift to Shane sank to the bottom,
and 20 dead bait fish from our bait bucket floated around me. (Apparently before
all this happened our bait aerator also died).
Once all the belongings
were out of the boat, I ran to the Jeep to back it up to the shore line to
attempt to pull it out. It wouldn't budge; the muck was like a
suction cup, pulling it under. Soon the engine slipped under
the water and I thought she was done for. A minute later, the man
from the marina and one of his fishing charter guides frantically came running over to help
us. With their assistance we were able to lift the engine from the mud
and pull the boat onto shore. They instructed us on how to clean out the
engine and said that if we couldn't get it started that they would
tow us to the ramp. I am convinced that
without the help of these two gentlemen we would have never gotten the boat
free, and to them I am eternally grateful. We were eventually able to
get her started and took her over to the boat ramp. While Shane was
loading her in the trailer, the Jeep started to slip backwards down the ramp
towards the water. I frantically ran to hop in to step on the brakes, and
slipped on the slimy, algae covered ramp. I twisted my knee and blood was
spilling from a large gash in my foot. A short time later the boat was on
the trailer on dry land, and the events that had just transpired left us in
shock. We spent our last full day in paradise hosing down our equipment,
scrubbing the boat, and generally not doing anything fun. That night we
ordered pizza and watched TV, licking our wounds and too sore to do much else.
I was certain that the boat was cursed;
that maybe we should have performed that goofy naming ceremony to appease
Poseidon. But now, as I look back, it doesn’t seem as earth-shattering as
it was at the time. It was a learning experience above all, and now a
really great story to tell. We hope to someday live in SWFL, and will
take the many lessons we learned with us. We still don’t know what caused
her to sink. It hadn’t rained that night, and she had no problems with
taking on water that whole week. Over the winter Shane plans to track
down the source of the leak, as well as install an automatic bilge (or two… or
three…)
Even with the few "speed
bumps" we had, this vacation was one of the best I've ever taken. We
joked that Florida was trying to reject us, but I refuse to believe that. My spirit feels alive there; my soul complete. There is no doubt in my mind that this winter
will be one of our last in Pennsylvania, and that soon the place that feels
like home will actually be home.
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| The best $6 you'll ever spend! |
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| Our cottage as seen from the dock |
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| Such a welcome sight! |
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| The Lazy Hideaway |
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| The view of the back waters from the dock |
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An army of Fiddler Crabs greeted us every day. They cracked me up!
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| How is this for cute?! |
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| It opened up to reveal a mini bar & glassware! |
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| I have never been in love with a table set...until now. |
