We Were Sailing Along on Tampa Bay

We pulled out of our slip at Tarpon Springs about 8:30 a.m. Of course for us pulling out of a slip is hardly ever simple. We had two lines around pilings, one on either side of the bow and a stern line to a cleat on the dock. Close by us was a sailboat with a couple we’d seen stash away six cases of beer yesterday. We didn’t worry much about waking them too early, but we really didn’t want to slam into their boat, either. Fortunately, the wind was blowing in such a way as to push us away from them—which meant it was pushing us into one of the pilings at the bow. The line on that piling happened to be a short one and Gary had sort of “lassoed” it and pulled the end of the line through a loop on the end. My job, after he warmed the engine and released the stern line, was to quickly haul in the port bow line, then run to the other side of the bow, and while he tried to keep the boat steady and not crash into the piling—or the sailboat—unhook the lasso and pull the line aboard. I’m glad we don’t have movies of the process, but I did get it done. We pulled out into the Anclote River and headed for Tampa.

In order to get to Tampa we had to run out into the Gulf again. The same Gulf which had beaten us up pretty thoroughly Monday morning. It wasn’t quite as bad on Wednesday, but it still was pretty choppy. We bounced and flounced a good bit, but it was nothing like Monday, and at least we’d had a good rest. After about an hour we entered the Florida Inland Waterway and after that had a beautiful run on a chilly but beautiful day.I won’t say we’re a jinx, but the forecast for Tampa tonight is freezing weather. Still, the water was that beautiful green color that I remembered from my childhood trips to visit family in Nokomis, near Sarasota. If Sunday’s sunset water looked like lavender taffeta, today’s looked like green silk, the ripples showing like the silvery slubs you see in silk dupioni.

We cruised along through Clearwater, St. Pete, and then came Tampa Bay. More rockin’ and rollin’. We laughed at the fact we’d gotten so used to it that it seemed hardly noticeable any more. We saw gorgeous waterfront houses and boats to die for, but we love our little diesel-sipping single engine wonder boat—as in “wonder where they got that thing?” We had gotten to within an hour or so of Anna Maria Island, where we were heading for one of our favorite meals in the world—stone crab claws. Gary found a note in one of the cruising guides that told about a place called Moore’s Landing. The restaurant specializes in stone crab claws and, with a dinner of same, includes free docking for the night. No power or water, but a place to tie up and not have to worry about being run down by a ship.

We had seen a ship in Tampa Bay. It was headed for the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, as were we. It was going faster than we were and was a whole lot larger. It was a good ways behind us and Gary poured on some power so we could get under the bridge and ease over to one side of the channel, well out of the tanker’s way. We made it under the bridge, eased over to one side, and suddenly the engine lost power. Of course. A fuel line had become loosened and Gary knew almost immediately what it was.

Problem was to keep the boat out of the channel and get the anchor down. Our anchor has a nasty habit of hanging up so that it has to have some brave soul venture out on the bow and kick it loose so it will fall into the water. That brave idiot is usually me. I volunteered to do it, while quaking inwardly—suddenly those three- and four-foot waves looked more like ten and twelve–but Gary decided he could do it with the boat hook, sticking it out the center front window.

Now the only time Maggie has flown with her severely clipped wings was when she was frightened by the boat hook. That little incident took place last year when we were docked somewhere in Alabama. This time I had put her in her cage as soon as we stopped, just in case, but had apparently not latched it securely, because when I brought in the boat hook, there she sat, looking down from the top of her cage. Meantime, the boat is drifting. I finally grabbed her despite her biting me and more of less threw her into her cage. Gary, meantime, was poking at the anchor with the pole. No dice. Couldn’t reach it. “Here,” he says, “you can reach it if I hoist you up into the window.” Once again I’m glad there aren’t movies. I finally was able to thrust half of my ample body onto the bow far enough to reach the anchor and jab it loose. Ah! Now, to get my ample body back into the boat without falling into the hatch that gaped open below me.

There is a coaming about an inch and a half high that runs across the base of that window. A rather sharp coaming if one’s ample belly is squeezing down on it. I kept trying to feel something under my feet and Gary kept telling me to let go, he had me. Right! I had no intention of ending up sprawled across the engine, adding insult to injury. And injury is the operative word here. After having my bulging midriff dragged across that coaming and all but falling on my backside to avoid the gaping hatch, I felt like I’d had the cheapo version of liposuction. My poor belly will be bruised for a week. But the anchor was down.

And in jig time the captain had the line reconnected and we were back in the channel on our way to the stone crabs. Heh, heh, heh. Look out crabs! Here we come! They had various dinner sizes listed on the stone crab claw menu—which is on its own little card. Now, if you aren’t familiar with these delicacies, you need to know that they aren’t like regular crabs. Stone crabs have one large claw and one small claw. That great big claw is full of the sweetest meat you ever ate. And the great thing is that the claw can be broken off the crab, the live crab thrown back into the water and it lives to grow another replacement claw.

We decided that since we were getting free docking we’d splurge and get the one-and-three-quarter-pound order. Now we know that we could have made do with one-and-a-half pounds. It’s hard to judge because the shells are pretty thick and weigh a lot. So you suit yourself. Next time we’ll just get one and a half pounds.

Now we’re back on board, digesting all that protein, listening to the wind whistle across the bow and getting ready to be rocked to sleep. Hope you’re as full, happy, and warm as we are. We feel really blessed. As Gary said, “Things could have gone so wrong and, while we had a little inconvenience, we’ve been too blessed to complain about anything. And all those crabs are somewhere growing new claws. Yummm! Yummm!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 10th, 2010 at 9:31 pm and is filed under Great Loop. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.