CHAPTER FIFTY SIX: WHOOPS, HERE COMES ANOTHER RUBBER TREE PLANT!

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX: WHOOPS, HERE COMES ANOTHER RUBBER TREE PLANT!

Ft. Myers became even more interesting after I discovered that we are just a few blocks from the Edison Ford Museum, as in Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. These two guys became best buddies, even though Edison was 16 years older than Ford. By one account, Ford was working at Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit as an engineer, and in 1896 he went to New York for a company sponsored convention. Edison was the guest of honor at the convention. Ford was already a fan of Edison, and he gained an introduction to him. The friend who introduced him told Edison that Ford had made a gas car. According to Ford, Edison asked him a whole series of questions about the car. At the end of the discussion, Edison banged his fist down on a table and said: “Young man, that’s the thing! You have it! Your car is self-contained and carries its own power plant.” (Source: detnews.com -- Michigan History). Ford was thrilled by Edison’s enthusiastic response, because he claimed later that Edison was the first person to give him encouragement in his endeavor. He had already revered Edison as “the greatest inventive genius in the world”, and so Edison’s words of support put him in the stratosphere. He was also amazed by Edison’s words of praise for his gas car, because he knew, as the world did, that Edison had invented a car powered by electricity.

Just imagine for a moment what our world would be like today if Ford and Edison had put their brain power, money and mass production skills into further development and marketing of Edison’s electric car, rather than Ford’s gas-driven car. Clean air, anyone? Well, that didn’t happen, and Ford started kicking out millions of gas guzzlers a year. Think about more than a century of production of electric cars, had either one of these geniuses thought about the impact on the environment of Ford’s invention. But global warming was not a concern at the turn of the 19^th-20^th century, nor was there any worry about the United States becoming dependent on despots (read: the Saud family) and tyrants (read: the Shah) for oil and gas supplies.  Besides, another buddy of Mr. Ford, a man named Rockefeller, had a strong interest in supporting Ford’s gas and oil eating autos, as he built a little empire that grew into BIG OIL. Standard Oil – SO – Esso – stations cropped up everywhere to service the Model T’s and whatever other models came off Ford’s assembly line.

That’s funny too – funny in a strange way – because Ford was very, very concerned about becoming dependent on Asian countries for rubber for his car’s tires and the hoses under the hood. His buddy, Firestone, who made most of the tires for Ford, was also interested in developing an American rubber industry in order to gain independence from the vagaries of the Asian rubber markets. So Ford and Firestone turned to Edison for a solution. Each contributed the generous sum of $25,000 (not so generous, given their wealth at the time) to Edison to do research to find the best plant growing in America from which latex could be made. With that money, Edison built a research lab on his property at Ft. Myers and went to town growing plants known to produce various forms of latex. He also consulted Luther Burbank, the California seed guy, on the best plants to test for their latex richness. Edison’s property in Ft. Myers became a veritable botanical garden of latex producing plants that were indigenous to the United States or that would adapt to the climate in Florida and other agricultural states.

Edison was given a two foot tall banyan tree as one of his first test plants. That tiny tree now fills up a whole acre on the land of the Edison Ford Museum. But it was not the ideal solution for a local source of rubber. You’ll never guess what plant came in first in the native rubber contest – goldenrod – the weed that makes most of us sneeze. I am not kidding. There is a 12 foot tall framed dried goldenrod plant in Edison’s lab in Ft. Myers that still stands as a testament to the fruits of his labor. So why didn’t we just take off with the goldenrod into rubber production after Edison made this discovery? I was told by the guide that World War I intervened, and there was an immediate need for lots of rubber, so we went back to our Asian sources and kind of forgot about the goldenrod idea. THEN – tada – enter BIG OIL again – synthetic rubber was invented, based on, you guessed it, oil products. With that major change of events, we were able to create an even greater dependency on foreign countries for oil – to fuel our engines AND to make our tires. Alas, the poor goldenrod still makes us sneeze, but what greater glory she could have achieved as our primary source of rubber. Rumor has it that researchers are finally giving goldenrod another look as a source of latex and rubber, because, you know, it turns out that oil-based synthetic rubber is not so good for our environment. And it makes us even more dependent on despots and tyrants for the oil under their feet which has made them extremely rich despots and tyrants.

The moral to this story is to never give up on a great idea – bring on the goldenrod! Let’s get started with making our own rubber out of the latex gleaned from it. Make the United States the leading producer of natural rubber. At the same time, shut down the production of oil-based synthetic rubber. Move the rubber workers from synthetic to natural and increase their wages while we’re at it. Come on, we’re America, we dream big, and we can make this big change! One small step for the goldenrod, one giant leap for rubber AND energy independence. If it was good enough the Edison, the Wizard of Menlo Park, it’s good enough for the rest of us. So “we have high hopes, we have high hopes, high in the sky apple pie hopes.” Remember Frank Sinatra and that little red-headed kid elevating our mood with that song? “Whoops, there goes another rubber tree plant!” Let’s turn it around: “Whoops, Here comes another rubber tree plant!” We can do it! Si se puede!

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE: HOW ‘BOUT THEM ‘NOLES?

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE:  HOW ‘BOUT THEM ‘NOLES?

Here’s our history lesson for Ft. Myers, according to a little sign posted on First Street in Old Town Ft. Myers: The Caloosa Native Americans are the first known settlers of this area. A fort was first built in this vicinity during the Seminole War of 1841-1842. The fort was named for Lieutenant John Harvie (Fort Harvie, I presume). Something happened between that time and 1850, when the fort was “re-established” and renamed Ft. Myers to recognize Lieutenant Abraham C. Myers. The Seminole War ended in 1858. Okay, that’s what the little historic sign in downtown Ft. Myers says. It glosses over the fact that there were three separate “Seminole Wars”, also known as “Florida Wars”. It also fails to mention that the “Seminoles” were actually groups of Native Americans and Black people who settled in Florida in the early 18^th century. The Blacks who had settled in this part of Florida had been enslaved in Georgia and other southern slave States, but had escaped to Florida where they were free of slavery.

Battling these groups of Native American and free Black settlers was the United States Army. I know, it sounds pretty unfair to me too. The first Seminole War was from 1814 to 1819 (apparently not conducted in the Ft. Myers area). The second Seminole War was from 1835 to 1842, and the third Seminole War was from 1855 to 1858. That brings us right up to the Civil War, almost. But before we get there, let’s explore that first Seminole War a little bit and see what was really behind General Andrew Jackson’s 1816 assault on what was then called Fort Negro in the Florida Panhandle (now Fort Gadsden in Apalachicola, Franklin County).

A Black man named Garson and an unnamed Choctaw chief led the settlers at Fort Negro to conduct raids across the Georgia border to help free enslaved Native Americans and Blacks. Their actions, and their fort, were seen as a threat to Southern slavery. Here we go again. The U.S. Government was at that time predisposed to protect the institution of slavery and to put the full muscle of the U.S. Army behind destroying Fort Negro and killing its inhabitants. At the time the Savannah Journal wrote the following about the “evil” of Fort Negro:

“It was not to be expected, that an establishment so pernicious to the Southern States, holding out to a part of their population temptations to insubordination, would have been suffered to exist after the close of the war. In the course of last winter, several slaves from this neighborhood fled to that fort; others have lately gone from Tennessee and the Mississippi Territory. How long shall this evil, requiring immediate remedy, be permitted to exist?”

What a tragically ironic twist: the evil was not slavery; the evil was the effort to help people flee from slavery. While slavery crops up everywhere as the reason for killing people in the history of the South, it should be noted that one source reports that General Andrew Jackson attacked and killed almost all of the 320 settlers inside Fort Negro (yes, women and children were among them), only after a “garrison” of Fort Negro killed a “group of American sailors”. That’s as detailed as the explanation gets. It is clearly a fact that General Jackson entered Spanish Territory to attack Fort Negro and that he wiped it out. It is also a fact that the settlers of Fort Negro were a thorn in the sides of slave owners in the adjoining states.

Several years later, in March of 1818, General Jackson returned to the site of Fort Negro and established Fort Gadsden at the same location. From there he and his troops cut a wide swath of destruction heading south from Tallahassee, destroying settlements of Native Americans and free Blacks as they progressed. This area was still “owned” by Spain, so this war effort was designed to wrest Florida from Spanish control. The Native Americans and Black settlers were collateral damage during this land grab. At the same time, Secretary of State John Quincy Adams was peacefully negotiating with Spain for the acquisition of Florida. Guess what? Jackson’s invasion of Florida strengthened Adams’ diplomatic efforts, and eventually Spain ceded most of Florida to the United States. The only thing Jackson got in hot water for was the execution of two British subjects, Alexander Arbuthnot and Robert Armbrister, but it didn’t cost him the Presidency. Nor did his killing of hundreds of Native Americans and Blacks in his march through Florida in 1818 have any negative consequences for him.

We got Florida the way we got most of our States – by killing the people who lived there (either in violent conflicts or with European diseases). But why were there two more Seminole Wars, after we got what we wanted? We didn’t kill all of the Native Americans (as of 1822, there were around 22,000 remaining), so we had to devise some sort of plan to “contain” them. Does the word “reservation” come to mind? Generous to a fault, our government in Florida offered 4 million acres in central Florida from Ocala to South Tampa Bay to the Seminoles. And they could have this land so long as they didn’t cause any problems. Plus, they would be “protected” by the government if they were “law abiding”. That was in the 1823 Treaty of Moultrie Creek. Somehow, many of the 22,000 Native Americans were not grateful to the government for herding them into an internment camp/reservation, while taking all the other land they had claimed in Florida away from them. And things did not settle down. The State of Florida got a great boost from the election of Andrew Jackson to the Presidency in 1828 and two years later, 1830 Congress passed and he signed the Indian Removal Act. Now that’s a clear title for a piece of legislation, which dictated that the “Indians”, including those in Florida who had been “given” 4 million acres, were to be removed to a location west of the Mississippi River. Out of sight, out of mind.

Government officials asked to meet with the chiefs of the Native American tribes in Florida to discuss their departure from Florida. This meeting resulted in the Treaty of Payne’s Landing, which wasn’t ratified by the Senate until 1834. In that Treaty, the Native Americans were given three years to get out of Florida and move to designated land west of the Mississippi. The land that was designated for them was also identified as the new “home” of the Creek Indian tribe, a long time enemy of the Seminole tribes. Why not add insult to injury, if you’re the U.S. Government dealing with the indigenous population? Not surprisingly, this Treaty, while signed by certain chiefs, was not accepted by many of the Seminoles in Florida, including five of their most influential chiefs. When the Seminoles refused to be removed, the government resorted to force to expel them from Florida and move them to their new “homeland”. This led us to the second Seminole War starting in 1835 and lasting until to 1842. (And we think the war in Afghanistan has dragged on!)

One of the young Turks of the Seminole tribe in Florida, Osceola, was particularly adamant about not leaving Florida. He felt that he and his fellow Native Americans were being treated like slaves. He used the following colorful language:

"The white man shall not make me black. I will make the white man red with blood; and then blacken him in the sun and rain ... and the buzzard live upon his flesh."

There was a lot of blood shed in the second Seminole War. In December 1835, a group of Seminoles ambushed two companies of soldiers under Major Francis L. Dade, 110 men in all. All but two were killed in the ambush, and one of the two survivors died of his wounds. In late1836 Major General Thomas Jesup was put in command of the forces to drive out the Seminoles. He amassed over 9000 soldiers, half volunteers and militia, and he relied on a war of attrition to destroy the Seminoles. For the rest of the 1830’s Jesup and his successors, among them Zachary Taylor, burned the Seminoles’ crops and drove away their cattle and horses, causing them to starve to death or surrender. The officers also used bribes to get chiefs to surrender and turn in their tribal members. And they were not above offering a peaceful surrender to their enemy, but betraying them by seizing them and imprisoning them upon surrender. Since the Seminoles were proving to be such stubborn opponents, in August 1842 the Armed Occupation Act was enacted, giving free land to any settlers who agreed to fight off the Seminole Indians in their area.  That is the month that Colonel Worth declared an end to the war, satisfied that all of the Seminoles had been killed or driven out of northern Florida and that only a few remained on the reservation lands in southwest Florida.

And then there was peace, at the mere cost of $40,000,000 (real money in the 1800’s) and the lives of 1500 government soldiers and thousands of Seminoles and civilians. The federal government withdrew all troops, and the remaining Seminoles just tried to stay under the radar, so that they would not be expelled. Four years later in 1846 Captain John T. Sprague was put in charge of Indian affairs in Florida, and in 1847 he met with some of the remaining Seminole chiefs, Billy Bowlegs, Sam Jones and Chipco. At that time he estimated there were about 120 “warriors”, 100 women and 140 children. For reasons not given in Wikipedia, a band of Seminoles in Chipco’s group attacked a farm, killing one individual and then attacked a trading post, killing a Captain Payne. Billy Bowlegs met with the powers that be and told them he would bring in the killers. He did that, expecting to be left alone after that. But no, the Army was so grateful that it told him and the other Seminoles they were going to be removed from Florida. Some Seminoles left peacefully, but other still remained. And in 1850 when a boy on a farm in north central Florida was “apparently” killed by a Native American, the Secretary of  War said “Enough!” An ultimatum was issued that the persons responsible for killing the boy should be turned over to the government, or all of the Native Americans would be held responsible for this killing. Chipco turned over three members of his group, who proclaimed their innocence. Once in custody, they were found hanging from the bars in the jail. The jailer had a connection to one of the persons wounded at the trading post in 1849.

In 1854 Secretary of War Jefferson Davis (yep, that one), devised a plan that was destined to lead to another war with the remaining Seminoles. He placed an embargo on their goods, gave their land to European setters, and beefed up the military presence in the areas where they still remained. Finally, he said that if the Seminoles did not leave Florida, he would use force to remove them. Troops went in search of the Seminoles, who started to fight back. In December 1855 Billy Bowlegs and 40 warriors attacked a small camp of soldiers and killed and scalped four of them, while seven soldiers made it back to Fort Myers. In 1856 small groups of Seminoles attacked various farms and settlements in the central Florida area, including what is now Tampa. Federal troops returned to Florida and worked with the state militia to search for Seminole settlements, destroy their crops and kill the ones who had remained in Florida. The third Seminole War continued until 1858. Billy Bowlegs and Sam Jones were still actively trying to protect their settlements. However, a group of representatives from “Indian Territory” came to meet with Bowlegs and somehow he and his warriors were convinced (starvation and death are particularly strong convincers) to accept cash payments to move to their very own reservation (separate from the Creeks). In May 1858 163 Seminoles were shipped to the Big Easy, and the third Seminole War was declared over. Some members of Sam Jones’ band and of Chipco’s band remained in Florida, but the federal government withdrew its troops, declared victory and left.

I’m not sure what happened to the remaining Seminoles during the Civil War, but they were not forgotten by the Republican run legislature which adopted the 1868 Florida Constitution. The Seminole tribe was give one seat in the house and one seat in the senate of the state legislature. These positions were never filled. And in 1885, when Democrats regained political power, they passed a new constitution, which removed the Seminole seats. Furthermore, they established barriers to voter registration that effectively disenfranchised most Blacks, Native Americans and other minorities. These groups were essentially denied the right to vote until passage of the federal civil rights and voting rights laws in the mid-1960’s.

Whew! I learned a lot as I delved into the history of the Seminoles in Florida, particularly in the area known today as Ft. Myers. That little sign in the center of Old Town left a lot out. One more thing: the world “Seminole” is supposedly derived from the Spanish word “cimarron”, meaning “runaway” or “wild one”. They started out as part of the Creek tribe, but either decided to leave or were exiled. They described themselves as “yat’siminole” or “free people”. True to that phrase, they strongly resisted every effort by a foreign power to conquer them or convert them. They were not dominated by the Spanish and they fought against the English who tried to take their lands. They were one of the last Native American groups to sign a treaty with the United States. Theirs is a very long, proud history of resistance. Blacks who had been enslaved and who escaped from their “owners” fled to Florida and were accepted by the Seminoles. They were called Black Seminoles.

I have not done a thorough exploration of Ft. Myers, but so far the only sign I see of the Seminole heritage in this area is a Seminole casino, which will have a big fireworks show on January 26. I hope there is more to the Seminole people than those who sponsor the casino. I’m sure there is. However, if you come to the United States from another country not knowing the history of our decimation of native American groups over the centuries, you might think that gambling is what the native Americans know best, as you travel from the East Coast to the West Coast and see one gaudy casino sign after another, each announcing an “Indian” gambling mecca.

And that would be a shame. As we celebrate the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. today, January 21, we should be mindful of the titanic struggles of the Seminoles and other native Americans to maintain their identity, to hold on to their land (mostly a lost cause), and to assert their sovereignty against a government that has relentlessly pursued its “manifest destiny” to control all the land west of the original colonies to the Pacific Ocean. Keeping this history of our own country in mind, we may also develop a better understanding of deep schisms in other countries, like Iraq, between groups like the Kurds, the Shiites, and the Sunnis, each of whom fears losing their identities to a central government determined to elevate one group (like the Sunnis) over all other ethnic and religious groups. How many Native Americans did we have to kill in order to set up our state governments and our federal government? And how many more have we forced into dependency on “reservations”? When we start to get all full of ourselves and extol the virtues of our democracy, let’s remember that we were not always so “democratic” in our treatment of many groups in this country, particularly Native Americans. That’s all.

This history lesson is over. Time to eat. The Admiral is cooking something up, and I can’t wait to enjoy his latest concoction

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR: THE LAKE, LOCKS AND BIG AG

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR: THE LAKE, LOCKS AND BIG AG

Sunday, January 13, started with a smooth early departure from Indiantown Marina at around 7:30 a.m. The rest of the boaters were sleeping in, after a night of bacchanalia under the banyan trees. Just kidding. There was a marina potluck that we were invited to, and they held it on an open patio under some trees still covered with bright sparkly white lights. Slow Motion was about fifty feet away from the party, and I have to say I didn’t hear anything after about 9 p.m. The cruising days of getting up by 7 a.m. in order to leave by 7:30 a.m., then navigating Slow Motion down the waterway for the next 7 or 8 hours, are surprisingly fatiguing. It’s not that we’re busy every minute of the cruising day – I can read several chapters of a book up in the flying bridge, as the Admiral sits at the helm. Most of the time that we have been on the Okeechobee Waterway, Slow Motion has been on autopilot, so steering is not an issue. Still, we have to be constantly on the lookout for objects in the water that could dent a propeller and for shallow water that could force us to run aground. And while we’re looking for those hazards, oh by the way, is that a bald eagle over there in the tree without leaves? Why yes it is! How about that aqua blue bird with the long legs and huge wing span? Ho-hum, just another magnificent blue heron. More snowy egrets? Can this really be happening? Are these gorgeous birds here all the time on the OWW, or did they just show up on January 13 and 14 to give us a private showing? Observing natural beauty never gets old. And the OWW has more than its fair share of natural beauty.

The OWW also “treated” us to falling ashes from the fires set in the nearby sugar cane fields. As we were cruising along looking for the all-white pelicans, suddenly all-black flakes of ashes came raining down on Slow Motion. We had the side windows open on the flying bridge, and they started pouring in from the sides, landing on the controls, the floor and the cushions. They were also landing all over Slow Motion’s lily white decks. What, no Environmental Protection Agency at work in this part of Florida? The Admiral muttered something about “Big Ag” being in control, and nobody messes with Big Ag. I guess the Florida Governor and the Senators have not taken a boat ride on the OWW recently – or perhaps ever. Clean up your own house, first, Florida, before you start telling the rest of the country how to create jobs, or balance a budget – anyone can do that if they ignore luxury items things like clean air.

There are headlines about big changes afoot to save both Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades, which have been diminished in size for years and years, as agriculture and urban development have both taken their toll. More than 700,000 acres of the original Everglades that were located immediately south of Lake Okeechobee have been converted to the Everglades Agricultural Area. Way to go, Big Ag! And areas along the eastern border of the Everglades are now urban. Half of the original Everglades wetlands of 2.9 million acres has been converted for human uses. And there are a lot of humans now living in Florida, more than 19 million. The prognosticators in the 1940’s and 1950’s predicted that Florida would have 2 million people by the year 2000. Turned out that Florida was/is an over-achiever when it comes to attracting people to live here – and an under-achiever in protecting the Everglades, Lake Okeechobee, and the natural environment needed to keep the State flourishing. According to the South Florida Water Management District, the health of Lake Okeechobee “was threatened in recent decades by excessive nutrients from agricultural and urban activities in the lake’s watershed, by harmful high and low water levels and by the spread of exotic vegetation.”

 And so, as we crossed Lake Okeechobee this weekend, which was at a near record depth of 15 feet, we were mindful that there are efforts, begun with legislation in 2000 (Lake Okeechobee Protection Act), to protect the second largest freshwater lake in the United States (next to Lake Michigan). And we know that we were fortunate to be able to take advantage of the above-average rainfall last year in this area of Florida. If the Lake goes below a certain level, no crossings are allowed, the locks are closed, and everyone goes somewhere else. Maybe other cruisers got the memo about the raining ash flakes and are already staying away from this waterway. Most of the time that we cruised from lock to lock and marina to marina, we did not see other boats. For three of the locks we were the only boat inside, when the lock master closed us in and released the water. When we tied up at Moore Haven City after going through the Moore Haven Lock, we were joined an hour later by Jeannine and Richard in their cruiser, Chez Nous. But that was it. Otherwise, the Moore Haven City Docks, 400 feet of face dock, were empty. The 200 feet of face dock of a private marina right next door were also empty. And there was one restaurant open on Sunday – a Burger King. This does not look like a prosperous area. It appears that the residents know that the days of the OWW are numbered. And who knows what the sugar cane industry will do, when (if) a substantial part of their acreage is returned to its natural wetlands status? LaBelle, Florida, a little town at mile marker 103 on the OWW (25 miles west of Moore Haven), has a backup plan. They have the Harold P. Curtis Honey Company, which maintains 1000 bee hives and has earned La Belle the sobriquet “Honey Capital”. It would be nice if the bees and their hives were allowed to remain, if this area goes back to wetlands.

Before you get to LaBelle, there is one more really exciting lock, the Ortona Lock at mile marker 93.5, where your boat is lowered eight feet, as the OWW starts to return to sea level. The lock master at Ortona is a great guy, who tells you exactly what he wants you to do and makes sure that you have the perfect length of your line to adjust to the eight foot drop. A really dorky guy with a partner and another couple came toodling up to the lock as we were waiting for the green light. He was in one of those jungle boats like you ride in in Disneyland. He ignored the fact that we had been waiting, and when the green light came on, and the gates started to open, he puttered right into the lock ahead of us, then proceeded to grab the first line he came to, effectively blocking us from entering the lock. The Admiral sounded Slow Motion’s horn, and the lock master took the line away from Mr. Dork and directed him to keep moving – it looked like he wanted Mr. Dork to move right up to the exit gates. At any rate, he made sure there was plenty of room for Slow Motion, and we were grateful. Okay, we had the eight foot rush, the gates opened and we left the lock. The lock master told us that Mr. Dork was a regular, but still clueless after many years. He never called the lock master ahead of time. He always grabbed for the wrong line. And he had no interest in learning the proper protocol for locks. He was only interested in manatees. Lo and behold, as we left Ortona Lock, who was waiting for us, but Mr. Dork, who had turned his toy boat around and was heading BACK into the lock, to experience the rising of 8 feet of water. The lock master did not look happy. Hey, it’s free entertainment. The lock master said that this rude fellow also has a 60 foot houseboat that he likes to take through the lock – in the same discourteous manner he enters the lock in the toy boat. I expect that there’s not much going on in this area; however, Mr. Dork, couldn’t you find SOMETHING else to do with your guests (fishing?) and someone else to abuse besides this amiable lock master?

I will mention the last lock, the W. P. Franklin Lock at mile marker 121.4. The lock master had no personality. He was a cypher, a term I used as a prosecutor to describe a potential juror who revealed nothing about herself/himself during voir dire. You didn’t know if “still waters run deep” or if there was actually nothing there. I’m pretty sure with this lock master, there was nothing there. At least, the waters in his lock were not deep. Like the lock, he appeared very shallow. A friendly, knowledgeable lock master can make your day. A cypher cannot ruin your day, but why bother coming to work if you can’t find any joy in it? A lock master gets to ride around on a cool little ATV, he/she gets to play outside nearly all day, and he/she gets to meet people from all over the world. What’s not to like?

As we left the last lock, we headed into the Caloosahatchee River on our way to Ft. Myers and Legacy Harbour Marina, our home for the rest of January. It was a longer day than usual for us on the water. We had started at 7:30 a.m. and had intended to stay at Jack’s Marina on the OWW. As we cruised by it, Jack’s looked pretty rundown. I’m sure there are lovely people who manage the marina. We spoke with them on the phone. But we were really, really tired of our one night stands, as it were, going to a new marina every night. I know we’re transients, but sometimes even transients need a little sense of permanency. The Admiral and I decided to press on to Legacy Harbour, knowing that this would extend our cruising until 3:30 or 4 p.m. We arrived at Legacy Harbour, and Lana had chosen a slip on Dock B for us. The Admiral, who is getting very, very good at maneuvering Slow Motion in small, tricky spaces, somehow squeezed her into this tiny slip, in between two sizable boats that were already tied up. Once again, the Admiral received kudos for his masterful turns and twists. We set about tying the lines and attaching our power line to their power stand. We were soooo happy that our cruising day was over – we thought. It turns out that the power on that dock is at best 208 volts, and we need 220 volts. It also turns out that Legacy Harbour has power stands with 220 volts – but on other docks in the marina. The Admiral was shown Dock D (for “distant”) and we elected to save our generator, our air conditioner and all our electrical appliances, so we undid the power cord, untied all the lines, slowly backed out of the B dock slip and set our sites for D 19, another narrow slip, but not surrounded by big boats. I still can’t believe that the Admiral, who must have been seeing double at this time ( I know I was ready for bed.), backed into this slip without even coming near the free standing piling on the port side of the slip. Believe me, this is an extraordinary feat. So finally, about 5 p.m., we were “home”.

Today, January 15, I have walked about 3 miles, going back and forth from Slow Motion to the shore. The Admiral measured the distance and says it is one quarter mile each way. I walked more than ½ a mile to take a shower at 7:30 a.m. I walked more than a half mile to get a rental car and return to get my standing order for blood work. I walked more than a half mile to get the blood drawn and return with Americone Dream for the Admiral. I walked more than a half mile to take the trash to the trash cans. I walked more than a half mile to drive the Admiral to the Ft Myers Yacht Basin ships’ store to get hardware for our searchlight and return from a second trip to Publix to get Caramel Cone ice cream for the Admiral (and other groceries).  In the meantime, the Admiral spent the day crawling on top of the boat, trying to install the searchlight from above, using every muscle in his body, including some from his college soccer days that he didn’t realize he still had. But success is sweet – we have a bold, super bright searchlight atop Slow Motion, thanks to the Admiral’s sacrifice of his body.

Tomorrow we start the exploration of Ft. Myers.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE: OW-WHEE OKEECHOBEE – IT’S A LOCK!

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE: OW-WHEE OKEECHOBEE – IT’S A LOCK!

It’s alligator country again. Swamp people cannot be far behind. We’re heading west! Today, January 12, we started our journey on the Okeechobee Waterway. This is a cool 140 mile channel, which cobbles together rivers (St. Lucie, Caloosahatchee), Lake Okeechobee, five locks, and canals (St. Lucie) that take you from the East Coast of Florida, around Jensen Beach, to the West Coast of Florida near Ft. Myers and Cape Coral.  What an exciting first day we had!

Last night we docked at Nettles Island. We had been promised our “old spot” from our stay last June, alongside one of their docks. But when we arrived, we were told it was taken and we could come to a “very safe, very large” slip inside the marina. Well, the slip was very safe, but it was NOT very large. In fact, it was very small. And we barely got our 15 plus foot Slow Motion in between the pilings. We had also been told that it would be easy to just back out in the morning. Wrong – there were big boats very close to us that presented great bump ‘em car opportunities, had we done as suggested. Naturally, the Admiral stayed awake most of the night thinking of the 100 possible ways to get out of that slip without hitting another boat. We were up at dawn to try to way he had decided upon. And miraculously, we got out of the slip and out of the marina without hitting any neighboring boat, or even the cement wall that was also dangerously close. It was partly a miracle and partly a tribute to the developing skills of the Admiral that we extricated ourselves without a scratch from that very congested marina.

We cruised down the Indian River until we reached the cutoff to enter the Okeechobee Waterway about 10 miles south of Nettles Island. And as we entered the St. Lucie River, everything changed. We were in the tropics within an hour of turning westward. We were also in a very quiet channel with very few boats. Keep in mind this is a Saturday, when most jet skiers are out terrorizing the cruisers and other jet skiers. We haven’t seen one jet skier on the Okeechobee Waterway – yet. As we came to Stuart, Florida, we saw two beautiful marinas and a lot of manicured lawns in front of some very large houses, most of which had “Florida rooms”, the metal mesh covered posts which are constructed over outdoor swimming pools to protect the swimmers from mosquitoes and other summer biters. Stuart is at about the 8 mile marker on the OWW. We were headed to Indiantown, which is at the 29 mile marker.

Between Stuart and Indiantown, the tranquil mood of the waterway continued. We made a stop for the cheapest diesel fuel on the OWW, or maybe anywhere, at the American Yacht Basin. And then we moseyed on along the waterway past what appeared to be a jungle. There were lots of palm trees, yes, but there were also lots of other trees that were so thick, you could not see through them to the land behind. The Admiral kept looking for alligators, and he thought he saw one ahead of Slow Motion in the middle of the channel. At the last minute we realized it was a wooden post, probably at one time much taller with a day marker on it. And we were able to save Slow Motion’s propellers by veering around it. Last night pelicans stood watch over Slow Motion at the dock. They were perched on the pilings right next to us. But today on the OWW they did not get up close and personal with us. There were plenty of hawks flying overhead at one point, circling around some kind of prey, but no dive bombing pelicans to entertain us.

Now here’s the really cool part of the day: the St. Lucie Lock. We had been through one lock in Virginia, heading both north and south, and the water level difference was minimal, not much more than a foot. Not so, St. Lucie – she raises a boat 13 feet higher than when the boat enters the lock, THIRTEEN FEET HIGHER. What a thrilling ride. We entered the lock, and the lock hand gave me a line and told me to hold it at the bow. The Admiral got a line to hold at the stern. We were supposed to hold the 20 tons of Slow Motion next to the southern wall of the lock, as gallons of water came gushing in from the west portals. This was fun!  The portals opened, and Little Niagara Falls came tumbling through the gates, heading toward us. Slow Motion was the only boat in the entire lock, which is 250 feet long and 50 feet wide. All of that rushing, gushing water was coming for us! As the water encircled Slow Motion, I kept tightening the line around the bow cleat, because we were indeed rising – and at a rapid pace – so I needed less and less rope, as we got closer to the top of the lock. By the end of this water surge, we had been raised out of the cavernous “basement” of the lock to the “penthouse”. The portals opened and we cruised smoothly out the western end. What a ride that was! Tomorrow we have two locks to go through. I can only hope that we have to climb higher and higher to get to Lake Okeechobee, because it’s really neat getting a “lift” from thousands of gallons of water in a matter of minutes.

Nothing was going to beat the “Lock Ride”, so we returned to our serenely calm cruise on the OWW. Sure, there was a 7 foot railroad bridge that had to open for us, but when the day is going good for you, it keeps going good – the bridge was open and stayed open for us. About ten minutes after we passed through, we heard the train coming. This was a day of good luck, and we were enjoying every minute of it. Shortly after we went past the railroad bridge, we saw a tiny entrance to something on the north side of the waterway. Having been used to big marinas with big signs, we were not at all sure that this small canal led to the Indiantown Marina, our destination. But we eased the prow of Slow Motion into the opening, and I noticed a small sign for Indiantown Marina on the hill next to the water. We entered a world of liveaboard boaters, who appeared to be the original fan club for Jimmy Buffett. We could be in the Bahamas, or the Keys. No one really runs this marina, as is apparent by the haphazard docking of several large transient boats. We were told by Theresa, who is “new” here, to “park” next to “Dixie”. I’m sure she knew what Dixie was and where she was, but we didn’t. And Debbie had promised me when I called that we would be able to tie up at their “long facedock”. So I called Theresa back and said that we were promised the facedock. She seemed a bit flustered, but said we could “try”, “there might be room”, she just didn’t know.

As you may know, the Admiral loves a challenge, and when we are promised a facedock, by gosh, we are going to get to tie up at a facedock. So we crept slowly past the facedock to size up the situation. A transient boater had tied up right in the middle of it, in front of the fuel pumps, and disappeared. There was a space in front of him and a space behind him on the facedock. The Admiral opted for the space behind him, which was the end of the facedock. He took Slow Motion back into the bowels of the marina, where there was just enough room for a rowboat to turn around. And somehow he turned around Slow Motion and headed back to the end of the facedock. The liveaboards looked in amazement. One of the guys told the Admiral that he really knew how to handle this big boat. Then a few of the folks helped us tie up. Even the sailboat guy on the right angles facedock moved the bow of his boat back, so that we could use the end of the facedock. The folks here are really friendly, except for one lady who complained to Theresa that we had pulled into the fuel dock and were preventing a 20 foot motor boat from getting fuel. The Admiral overheard this complaint and said that he had offered to help that boat get fuel, but the guy decided to head for Stuart. And so, Ms. Busybody was mollified. Is everybody happy at Indiantown? Yes, we are. Barbecue on the patio at 5:30.

These days of cruising from one marina to the next, getting up at dawn, tying up at 3 p.m., are draining. We are really looking forward to several weeks in one place, Legacy Harbour in Ft. Myers. Did you hear that? If you are getting tired of winter and you would like to join us in 80 degree sunny weather sipping iced tea and eating crackers and cheese, please come visit us any time during the rest of January at Legacy Harbour. But if you think you can make it through January and don’t really get tired of winter until February, then hold out for a visit to us at the always fascinating town of Key West. We’ll let you know as soon as we know where we’re staying. But we promise to take you fishing, and we are reasonably certain that you will have a good time. Come on down, you Sunbirds, you know you want to!

 

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO: BLUEGRASS IS HOT, BUT FLORIDA IS HOTTER

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO:  BLUEGRASS IS HOT, BUT FLORIDA IS HOTTER

One last vignette from Jekyll Island:

We went to the 37^th annual bluegrass festival at the JI Convention Center on January 3. The Admiral noted that we were the youngest people there – by far. This was somewhat of an exaggeration, but what do you expect from a captain who calls himself The Admiral? I saw at least two people in the audience of several hundred who appeared to be younger than we are. And at least a few of the musicians were too. But most of the musicians were up there. That could explain why they sang a lot about “the next life” and getting to heaven to meet God. One of the groups would be great at revival meetings. I love Gospel, and so I enjoyed Amazing Grace and Go Tell It On the Mountain. I even sang along, as my Moravian upbringing taught me to love sacred music. Sure, it was Bach and Handel that the Moravians doted on, but Amazing Grace can hold a torch to those classical guys. Oh yeah.

One of the most extraordinary parts of the bluegrass festival was the nonagenarian who painfully walked on stage, barely staying on his feet, who then proceeded to pick the hell out of the “claw banjo”. He is apparently one of the few claw banjo masters left on this earth, and he has not lost a beat. His fingers and hands were so nimble, and the younger guys who invited him on stage to join their group could barely keep up with him. He played a few numbers, got a standing ovation, then slowly and painfully shuffled off the stage.

Not all of the groups had a Gospel bent. The “Nothin’ Fancy” group, comprised of 5 phenomenal instrumentalists (guitar, mandolin, banjo, fiddle, bass electric guitar), played its biggest hit: I Met My Baby in the Porta John Line. This tune is all over YouTube, if you want to hear it and see it performed. It was introduced as their most popular love song. It has great lyrics and a catchy tune – what did they say on American Bandstand? I’d give it a 4 out of 5. Of course, that was probably a Porta John line at a tent revival meeting. Still, it wasn’t overtly religious.

Dailey and Vincent were the last act. They have been performers of the year for 4 years running in the bluegrass circuit. They have a total of seven incredible musicians in the group. And one of them has the deepest bass voice I have ever heard. The banjo picker moved his fingers so fast, it looked like he wasn’t moving them at all – just blurs. The mandolin player was a ham, but virtuoso. The fiddle player more than held his own. Dailey played a lot of instruments, and also sang a cappella. Vincent played the bass and the guitar. The last part of the act was their rendition of the Grand Ole Opry, as each band member took his turn to be Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, or some other country great. Who knew that bluegrass musicians were mimics too?

There were some fine women in some of the groups too. The Gary Waldrep group, which had invited the claw banjo player to join them, had two women (guitar and fiddle) in the group. Paul Williams and the Victory Trio had a woman playing bass (who was not introduced – how rude!). Some of the biggest blue grass stars are women – check out Rhonda Vincent and the Rage. They were not at Jekyll Island. The first group that we heard, the Crowe Brothers, were indeed brothers, and they had a very tight group of four musicians who played fast and furiously. If you are into bluegrass, go hear this group wherever and whenever you can. You can hear them every Thursday night at their home in the hills somewhere in North Carolina during the summer months. Or buy their CDs. You will not be disappointed.

Before there was Sarah Palin dropping the “g” on every gerundive, there were the bluegrass musicians speaking entirely without the “g”. And their favorite word (if it’s a word) is ‘uns’, as in “you’un’s”, “young’uns”, and get this, “grandyoung’uns”. That’s really a word in Georgia, and not just at bluegrass festivals. I heard a woman at the Brunswick, Georgia Labcorp say that she had to work from midnight to 8 a.m. because her co-worker had to care for her sick grandyoung’uns. No lie. We have been in the State of Florida for the past 4 days and to this date, no one has used any version of “’uns” yet. The young dock master at the River’s Edge Marina in St. Augustine, responded “Right On” to every statement we made. Talk about a time warp. Power to the People, Right On! One of the pleasures of travel – anywhere – is learning the idioms that are popular. In Berlin, Germany many years ago, everything was “dufte”, meaning “cool” or “neat”. I bet if I returned there I would be dated immediately if I used that word from the sixties.

Okay, back to the present. Today, January 8, post-BCS debacle, we cruised from Daytona Beach to Titusville, the land of Cape Canaveral. To our amazement, some porpoises, two of them, decided to race Slow Motion again. They had come up to the boat, and the Admiral noticed that they both did a quick U turn to position themselves at the bow of the boat – and the race was on! I ran down to join them and I talked to them in a high, squeaky voice (like the one grownups use with kids). They turned sideways and looked at me like I was crazy, but they kept racing Slow Motion. And I got some more outstanding videos. Keep in mind that our top speed at that time was about 8 miles an hour, so we were not abusing them. Besides, they have free will, and if they want to work out by swimming seven minute miles next to Slow Motion, we can’t stop them. The Admiral is busy making lassoes, in case some other porpoises join us. He figures we can hitch Slow Motion to them and save on diesel fuel. Just kidding!

No socks as I write this Blog! No shoes! No sweatshirt! It’s warm, finally, it’s warm. The low tonight is around 65 and the high tomorrow, drum roll, is going to be 80. Goodbye long pants, hello shorts. The Admiral and I both got wicked sunburns on our faces today. We were not prepared for this heat wave after so many months of cold, damp, rainy weather. The water here is still too cold for the manatees, according to the Titusville dock master. That’s odd, because they are so blubbery. You would think they could hang out in Arctic waters with all that fat on their bodies. But nothing about manatees makes sense. Have you ever seen one? If you have ever seen the cult film Tremors with Kevin Bacon, then you know what a manatee looks like – just like those giant worms that roared under the earth and came up to suck down whole people and their cars.

This Space Coast (what they call the area around Cape Canaveral) is the home to 330 different species of birds. If you are a birder, come on down! Birds dominate whole islands in the Mosquito Lagoon and the Indian River. This fishing must be great right now. Or they just got tired of the cold temps up north and flew here for the warm rays. There are the full time dwellers, like the pelicans, herons, egrets, and cormorants – not to exclude the ubiquitous seagulls. And there are the visitors from the south, the roseate spoonbills and other exotica. While the porpoises are a rare treat, the birds never fail to entertain us, as we cruise along. They fight over space on day markers, they dive bomb recklessly into the waters from dizzying heights, they effortlessly glide about 2 feet above the waterway, and they perch themselves right next to people fishing, just waiting for them to hook and pull in their next meal.

This part of the waterway is not nearly as challenging as the wild rivers and inlets in the Carolinas and Georgia. For the past two days, we have been traveling down a narrow channel, sometimes through a manmade cut, with Slow Motion on autopilot. The winds have been decent, and the currents only get tricky around the inlets. There are lots of houses on both sides of the waterway for long stretches. Today there were mansions on one side and modest bungalows on the other. I picture two star-crossed lovers jumping into the waterway from their respective shores and meeting in the middle to consummate their love, as their parents and friends yell at them to come back and resist the “forbidden fruit” of the “other” shore. But that’s just my imagination running amok. Still, who can’t resist a story about a man or woman falling in love with a person who is in a different class from them? That’s what sells tickets to Les Miz, right? And you thought it was about the French Revolution?

For any Notre Dame fans reading this Blog – no, that just wouldn’t happen. Now that college football is finally and ignominiously over for a while, we can turn our attention to America’s sport. Spring training is a month away. Go Giants! 

 

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE: CRUISING WITH A PORPOISE (OR BETTER YET, FOUR)

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE: CRUISING WITH A PORPOISE (OR BETTER YET, FOUR)

The Admiral and I have been shivering in the mornings, shivering in the evenings, and shivering at supper time. Florida has not been kind to us so far. As we crossed the Georgia line into Florida yesterday, heading for Fernandina Beach, storm clouds loomed everywhere. It was supposed to rain last night. It didn’t. It just got colder and colder, until we got up to check the weather for our 60 mile journey to St. Augustine today. The Admiral was up at an ungodly hour, proving once again he is merely an Admiral, not a God. He got me up at 7 a.m. And it was cold, and cloudy, and not at all what the Sunshine State promises.

The first question was: Should we risk torrential rains for 60 miles and head to St. Augustine? The question had to be answered before 7:30 a.m., if we were going to do it, because this is at least an 8 hour trek for Slow Motion. Now that we are in Florida, we have entered the “no wake zone” world again, where the folks on the waterway don’t cotton to cruisers rockin’ their boats. With every “no wake zone”, we slow down to about 6 miles an hour. Yes, that’s a ten hour trip to St. Augustine. Well, never ones to shirk from the difficult decisions, we left the dock at 7:30 a.m. and put-putted into a fairly calm waterway, with tons of rain-laden clouds overhead.

We had a fallback position, if the rain became unbearable, and that was to cruise 30 miles or so to Jacksonville Beach and stop for the day. As luck would have it, when we got to Jacksonville Beach around 11 a.m., we saw a little blue sky, a very little blue sky, but the rain was still holding off. What to do, what to do? Here again, not ones to shy away from challenging the Weather Gods, we continued past Jacksonville Beach on our way to St. Augustine. And I am so glad that we did!

At about 45 or 50 miles into our cruise, we were joined by four porpoises, two on each side of Slow Motion’s bow, who raced us for the next few miles down the waterway. From time to time, as I leaned over the bow with my camera, one of the porpoises would turn on his/her side either to get a better look at me or merely to rub my nose in the fact that our big, powerful boat could not outrun them. Not that we were trying to. These animals are the most fun. Don’t think I didn’t have thoughts of jumping on the backs of two of them and riding down the waterway – yee-hah! The Admiral was sure they were going to grab my IPhone/camera and start taking pictures of us! I think that thought crossed the mind of one of them who jumped pretty close to me. I took some action videos and we have transmitted them to a lot of people. If you would like to see the video, just let us know, and we’ll send it to your email. It’s 32 seconds long.

The whole time the porpoises were racing with us, I had no concern whatever for the weather. It was a glorious break from all of our weather worries. And as the fearsome foursome bid us adieu, I swear to God the sun came out almost at the same instant. I knew there were going to be porpoises in our future, when we saw the porpoises come say good bye to us at Jekyll Harbor Marina, and then again, yesterday, when a porpoise greeted us as we docked at Fernandina Beach. They were portentous of our close encounter today with the Fab Four. The Admiral says this happens all the time with the lobster boats in the Keys, but it was my first experience and it was exhilarating. I can’t wait to go to the Keys to experience this as an everyday event. I will never, never tire of it. Porpoises just make me happy.

Something else that makes me very happy is the beef barley soup we have been eating. This hearty meal is sustained us through many a chilly night. We put half of the soup stock in the freezer and we took it out and added barley and lentils tonight. I can only say that, after the race with the porpoises, two bowls of homemade beef barley soup are about as good as it gets.

And what is the weather doing out there at this moment? It’s threatening rain, again. As we head farther south tomorrow, a cold front is supposed to be going through, bringing the temps down 10 degrees. Tomorrow will be another day in the 50’s, with a high in the 60’s. Just a few days ago, Mike K. told me it was in the high 70’s and sunny at Vero Beach, and he and Mary Lou spent the day at the beach. We are not that far from VB, so I’m beginning to worry that we are bringing the cold, rainy weather from the north. However, when the Admiral checks the weather charts, it looks like most of the rain is coming from the west. Nevertheless, it will be a cold north wind that buffets us about in Slow Motion tomorrow, blowing at 10 to 20 miles an hour. I may have written this once before, but never again will I complain about the hot, humid weather of the summer time. Sticky hair is still “better” than being chilled to the bone. Those of you who are shoveling your driveways are saying about now: “What wimps! They’re complaining about temps in the 50’s and 60’s? Are they nuts?” Yes, we are, but that’s beside the point. The point is that when you expect sunny weather in the 70’s, and you don’t get it, you tend to get a little querulous about it. And if you who are shoveling snow and driving on black ice want to join us on Slow Motion, you know you are welcome any time – even when it’s raining.

We cruised past Kings Bay yesterday, our premier submarine base on the East Coast, and for those of you concerned about our national defense, it appears that the submarines are doing a great job defending us. We saw not a one, and that’s a good sign, right? I wonder if the porpoises ever race the submarines. Now that would be a great video! Slow Motion was clearly not a challenge for those swift swimmers. Can you picture them tonight swimming around in a circle laughing as only porpoises can laugh about the slow motor boat they lapped again and again? And about the crazy woman with the IPhone hanging over the bow, who didn’t know how close she came to losing it? I hope we brought them as much laughter and joy as they gave us today. And for those of you who received the video, enjoy! It’s perfect for a cloudy day – or any day.

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTY: SLOW MOTION’S TOP TEN LISTS

CHAPTER FIFTY: SLOW MOTION’S TOP TEN LISTS

The Admiral and I are taking stock of the highs and lows of the past year and we’d like to offer a few Top Ten Lists (I know, I know, how original…). Here they are:

Top Ten Phrases of 2012 that Must be Retired (better yet, Banned):

1.     FISCAL CLIFF (FISCAL PRECIPICE, or any similar phrase) – Push all the commentators and the legislators off this cliff and be done with it.

2.     BUCKET LIST -- No. 1 on our “bucket list” is to get rid of this phrase.

3.     NO PROBLEM (NO WORRIES) – misused when “You’re welcome” is appropriate

4.     LOL – If it’s funny, you don’t need these letters to point it out.

5.     DOUBLE DOWN – yuck – How about “repeat the same behavior”?

6.     BREAKING NEWS – Use this maybe once a week, not once a minute, please.

7.     FAIR AND BALANCED – Let the viewer decide. Don’t advertise what you can’t deliver.

8.     PUSHBACK – This should not be a word, ever.

9.     JOB CREATOR – Can we get back to saying “employer”?

10.  “LIKE” – Like, every year this needs to be on the list, like, you know what I mean?

 

Top Ten Spots of Natural Beauty that We Experienced this Year:

 

1.     Harper Canyon, California

2.     Waccamaw River, North Carolina

3.     Jekyll Island, Georgia

4.     Pfeiffer Beach, Big Sur, California

5.     Sunrise and Sunset at the Casper Marina, Swansboro, North Carolina

6.     Calvert Cliffs, Chesapeake Bay, Solomons, Maryland

7.     Botanical Garden, Norfolk, Virginia

8.     Botanical Garden, Tucson, Arizona

9.     Live Oak and Spanish Moss Mile Long Arch, Wormsloe Plantation, Isle of Hope, Georgia

10.  TIE: Charleston, South Carolina (not all natural, but too much beauty to ignore)

              St. Augustine, Florida (ditto)

 

Top Ten Marinas on ICW between Ft. Lauderdale, FLA and Solomons, MD:

 

1.     Dozier’s, Deltaville, Virginia

2.     River Dunes, Oriental, North Carolina

3.     Calvert Marina, Solomons, Maryland  (but please upgrade the showers)

4.     Rebel Marine Service, Norfolk, Virginia

5.     Jekyll Harbor Marina, Jekyll Island, Georgia

6.     Seapath Yacht Marina, Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina (our shelter from Sandy)

7.     Atlantic Yacht Basin, Chesapeake, Virginia (great boat yard and marine store)

8.     Thunderbolt Marina, Thunderbolt, Georgia

9.     The Harborage at Ashley Marina, Charleston, South Carolina

10.  Casper’s, Swansboro, North Carolina (could improve the shower)

Honorable Mentions: Isle of Hope Marina, Isle of Hope, Georgia

                                        St. Augustine Municipal Marina, St. Augustine, Florida

                                        Nettles Island Marina, Jensen Beach, Florida

 

Top Ten Meals/Dishes prepared by the Admiral:

 

1.     Rib roast, fresh corn, mashed potatoes (not too much starch, really)

2.     Pulled pork, fresh corn and potluck dishes of HC neighbors

3.     Spaghetti with meat balls/ sausages and homemade sauce (from scratch)

4.     Beef and barley soup and fresh green salad

5.     Steamed clams in white wine, , fresh corn, green salad

6.     Beef Stroganoff

7.     Shrimp stir fry

8.     Barbecued ribs/ chicken, fresh corn, cole slaw

9.     Five alarm chili

10.  Breakfast omelets with peppers, ham or sausage and cheese

Too many honorable mentions to mention

 

Top Ten Most Challenging Cruising Days with Slow Motion:

 

1.     Hell Gate, Georgia (MM 601.4 – 602.4), low tide, heading north on the ICW – depth reader 1.5 feet

2.     Albemarle Sound, North Carolina (MM 65), heading north, watching looming thunderstorm and waiting for storm to go ahead of us

3.     Calibogue Sound, South Carolina (MM 565 – 576), heading south in dense fog

4.     Tropical Storm Debbie hit our marina in St. Augustine, Florida (MM 777.7), sinking a boat two slips away from Slow Motion – up all night checking the lines

5.     Gale force winds on trip south from Two Way Fish Camp to Jekyll Island, Georgia (MM 664 – 685)

6.     Mud River, Georgia (MM 650 – 660), heading north on ICW, with depths of 3 feet

7.     Getting away from the dock at Dudley’s Marina, Swansboro, North Carolina (MM 229), without any help, with extremely strong winds and currents – moving to Casper’s

8.     Trying to fit into tiny slip (short AND narrow) at Soverel Marina, Florida (MM 1011.9) – backing in with no rear view mirrors and dinghy blocking  rear view

9.     Trying to tie up at Georgetown Landing Marina, South Carolina (MM 402),heading north, with strong currents and winds and inexperienced dock hands

10.  Our first day leaving Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, (MM 1063), dealing with 23 bridges, 11 of which had to open for Slow motion

 

Top Ten “Moments” of 2012:

 

1.     The first day we cruised away from Ft. Lauderdale in Slow Motion starting our adventure

on the Intracoastal Waterway

2.     Butch’s successful  surgery with the quickest recovery known to man

3.     Dinner with Bethlehem Babes at Bay Wolf’s and follow up bonding at the Inn

4.     Angel Ruelas’s plea of guilty to the murder of Kris Olinger and his agreement

to meet with Kris’s brother, Travis

5.     Sonja’s visits and Sabina’s visit with their Daddo on Slow Motion

6.     Visits to Slow Motion by the Andersons and the Shipmans

7.     Hitting 12 on the hemoglobin scale

8.     Meeting Dr. O’Shea in Chapel Hill and Dr. Baer in Baltimore

9.     Spending a day visiting parks with Mary Jane in Calvert County/Eating crabs with

Mary Jane and Mike on their deck

10.  Dinners at the Calkins/Moore house, especially the November potluck

             Honorable Mentions: Exploring forts up and down the Atlantic Coast with the Admiral

                               (Moultrie, Sumter, Pulaski)

                                Riding my bike – anywhere (Charleston, Jekyll Island, Swansboro, Solomons)

                               Sunrises and sunsets on the ICW

                               Pre-Christmas with Sue and Butch in Tucson and my birthday with Rusty, Lois and

                               the Admiral in Pocono Pines as the leaves changed
 

Top Repair Person:

Bill, Charleston Boat Yard, Charleston, SC

Top Marina Office Person:

 Mary Ellen, Calvert Marina, Solomons, MD

 

Top Dog:

Violet, Washington, D.C.

Top Cat:

Midnight, Calvert Marina, Solomons, MD

 

Top Movie:

Lincoln

 Top social event:

TIE:      1. Sue and Doug’s 50^th anniversary, Dilworthtown, PA

1. Potluck at Calkins/Moore’s in Harper Canyon, CA

             1. Potluck at Calvert Marina, Solomons, MD

Top Book:

All the murder mysteries that Jake Leishman gave me, especially the ones by Lisa Scottaline

Second place: The Impeachment of Lincoln

Third place: Team of Rivals

 

Top BLOG Follower:

Vivian

         

We’re celebrating the New Year at Jekyll Harbor Marina in Georgia. The Admiral is playing nonstop with his new IPad, courtesy of Sonja. The first day of the year is overcast and moderately warm (high 50’s). The Happy Warrior in Washington did the deal, which probably makes nobody happy. That’s why they call it a compromise. Of course, no guarantees that the House, which will soon be in foreclosure, will go along with the Joe and Mitch Show. We’re sending thoughts and prayers to Hillary, who clearly needs a more balanced life. Listen to me, Hillary, it’s time to abandon the “all work and no play” mode -- do you know anyone who, on her deathbed, mouthed the words:  “Gee, I wish I had spent more time at the office?” Thanks, Glen Nolte, for that bit of sage advice. And I promise you, if you exercise and eat well, and sleep a lot more than you’ve been sleeping, then you will be refreshed to take on the greatest challenge of your life – First Woman President. If I can’t be the one, I’ll support your candidacy wholeheartedly, because it’s way past time for this country to have a woman in charge. On that note, have a New Year full of happy surprises and unbounded joy. Live your cruising dreams vicariously through the Admiral and me for another year, as we go to Key West, the
Bahamas and north to the New York Harbor.