The Beginning of the Last Leg of the Loop
On the Water Again
We had a long, long ride in heavy, heavy rain to get back to the short, short boat. She was a sight for sore eyes! After thirteen months of knee replacements, even having had the privilege of driving across the country and seeing all the sights we saw, there was something really special about getting back to the boat and, hopefully, finishing the Loop. So she had a little mildew here and there. That’s why God made Clorox. Gary had actually gotten a lot of wiping down and Cloroxing done the previous weekend. Maggie seemed to be as excited as we were. She started almost immediately doing the beeps and whistles she used to do mimicking the autopilot and other electronics.
We unloaded the truck, kissed Bill goodbye and got busy putting things away. We had a lot less stashing to do this time. We’d learned that we didn’t need about half or more of what we’d brought before. For one thing this part of the trip will only take a few weeks, whereas when we left Holden Beach in April of 08 we left prepared to stay on the boat for most of a year.
While we were away from Carrabelle the bottom had dropped out of the real estate market and a lot more. The condo complex next to the marina had apparently gone under. The restaurant was closed and we saw only a couple of trucks in the parking lot—and quite a few “For Sale” signs. In fact, there are a lot of vacation homes for sale along “The Forgotten Coast” as the area bills itself.
When we saw we were going to have to be in Carrabelle for more than a couple of days Gary got someone from the marina to drive him to Apalachicola to rent a car. This enabled us to restock out pantry and drive to Eastpoint, about 15 miles away, to the nearest laundromat. The main advantage of the car, though, was being able to get to seafood restaurants.
One was definitely less than four-star, but had delicious oysters and homemade potato chips. It was only a couple of miles from the marina. On Thursday nights they play trivia and the tiny place was crammed with locals, each table with its pad of sticky notes and a pencil. We didn’t stay long enough to see who won, but wondered what would happen on Friday night. We didn’t see how they’d be able to cram a live band into the place, that being the only thing we could think of that would top a trivia contest. We must have gone too early on Friday because there were only two other couples there and no games or bands.
Saturday, after the strain of doing three loads of laundry and folding it all, we decided to go “uptown” to Apalachicola and some serious seafood. I hadn’t eaten any lunch so opted for the platter. Oh, man! Calabash has nothing on Papa Joe’s! We had a table overlooking the water and more than we could eat. Those who know us and our appetites know that’s enuff said.
Sunday morning we squared away things, tied down what we remembered bouncing around previously, and Gary put Rain-X on the windshield. He returned the rental car and settled up with the good folks at Dockside Marina, cast off our lines and we were off again.
We ran across the river to the fuel dock, took on about 80 gallons of diesel and headed out to the river mouth and the Gulf beyond. It was the Lord’s Day and He had lent us a most beautiful piece of it. We left about 3:30 in the afternoon, the idea being to leave Carrabelle in daylight and arrive in Tarpon Springs in daylight. The approach to Tarpon Springs is littered with crab pots. We have nothing against crab pots, but they can royally mess up a prop if you get tangled in one of their lines.
The Gulf looked more like a lake than the infamous Mexican Ocean you hear so many stories about. It was a perfect day for crossing and we were very thankful. Later, as the sun got lower in the west, the water looked like someone had spread a piece of rumpled lavender taffeta around the boat. Where it was rumpled the rumples appeared pink, shading to orange as you looked from east to west.
As soon as it got really dark I succumbed, as I usually do to an overpowering urge to nap. The water was not choppy at all, but the gentle swells, the bane of those prone to seasickness, lifted the boat gently, rolled it slightly, then passed the stern with a swish. It’s like being rocked by yo’ mama in a cradle or rocking chair.
While I sawed zzz’s Gary kept an eye on the radar, autopilot and depth finder. The faithful old Cummins, juiced up on diesel fuel and fresh new oil just purred. Maggie helped Gary keep watch for awhile, then she tucked her head behind her wing and dozed also.
Throughout the night we took turns watching the gauges and screens, although Gary slept a lot more lightly than I did. It’s not that he doesn’t trust my seamanship, he doesn’t trust anyone really except himself and Lorenzo when it comes to handling the boat. But he did get a few winks of sleep and I diligently watched the dials, gauges and screens. At one point during the night we watched a boat or ship cross our path several miles behind us on another course. It was the only contact we had all night.
It was fun to watch the water also. We saw phosphorescent creatures, we assume were squid pass by a couple of times. But most of the 160 miles just flowed by, pun intended.
And then came the dawn! It was as if someone flipped a switch. We crossed some invisible demarcation line and the Gulf decided we didn’t need any more naps. Instead of the slow rolling swells, it became three- to four-foot chop. And chop it did. The chop doesn’t roll under the boat, it lifts the bow, hurries to the stern, then drops the bow just short of the next wave, which then splashes over the windshield. This started about 6:30 and didn’t stop until we were almost at the mouth of the Anclote River.
We found out we hadn’t tied everything down. Every time something fell I had to lurch to where it was, holding on to something to get there. I was very thankful for the overhead rail in the pilot house and every other piece of “holdable” stuff in the boat before this thing was over.
Maggie’s favorite word of the day became, “Bad! BAD!” She was a tired bird when we finally pulled into the Tarpon Springs City Marina. We were tired birds too. Gary is still aching from just holding on to the windowsill board. We did the minimum tying up and crashed into our bunks for a couple of hours.
We noticed an immediate improvement in the weather when we woke up and put on a pot of coffee. It is a lot warmer in Tarpon Springs than it was the whole time we were in Carrabelle. It didn’t take too long to spruce things up, repack some of the things that had fallen off shelves in the head and Gary hooked up a hose and washed off the salt spray that covered everything—even my sunglasses which had been left under a leak around the windshield.
Tarpon Springs is an interesting place and very friendly to boaters. It used to be the sponge fishing capital of the U.S., if not of the world. The bottom has dropped out of the market for natural sponges, but the resilient Greeks who settled the place haven’t let that stop them from making lemonade out of their lemons—as well as a delicious sauce to top off their dolmades. The streets at the foot of the docks are full of shops of all kinds, especially all things Greek. They even have Fisher-Price toys that teach the Greek alphabet and language to toddlers. There are boats for harbor tours and boats for sponge diving demonstrations.
We showered, dressed and headed for Dodecanese Street, right at the foot of the dock. Greek food! Oh my! I had eaten at a really good place here on vacation many years ago and we asked a lady at a store across the street which way to go. She told us that place was closed, but recommended a place down the street. Oh my! We got a sampler platter and became Greeks for a day. Pastitsio, moussaka, dolmades, gyro meat (the stuff you see on the vertical spits in the windows of Greek restaurants), oven roasted potatoes, and a small Greek salad—with bread and olive oil, of course. On the way out the waitress stopped us and gave us two pieces of baklava for a midnight snack. Actually, we ate our take-out plates for lunch this afternoon. I couldn’t say when the baklava disappeared.
The second night we ate at a different place, but the food was excellent and the atmosphere very Greek. When we finished the waitress brought an apple half, cut side down on a plate, sliced in quarter-inch slices and drizzled with honey and cinnamon. Very simple, but yummy and refreshing when there’s no room left for dessert.
My friend Betty said this trip sounds like we’re just boating from restaurant to restaurant. Cruise and eat, cruise and eat. Yep, that’s about it. But we do eat on the boat a good bit also. In fact we plan to anchor out a lot on this leg of the trip—but first an appointment at Moore’s Crab House, just south of Tampa, for stone crab claws.
More about that later.
