Last Tuesday evening we stopped by the Boca Ciega Yacht Club for a little bit. There were some folks getting the Catalina’s ready to go out into the bay.

Getting the Catalina's ready to go

The boats are stored on trailers and need to be hoisted into the channel. The task takes several people to accomplish, but is fairly easy to do. The boats are easily readied and out into the bay they go.

Dropping a couple of red buoys quickly sets up a race course. There is no official judges standing by, just some of the club folks having a great time, most of them anyhow.

There always has to be someone vying for special attention in every event I suppose… this one being not much different.

I don’t want to mention any names so Bill and Belinda shall be hereafter referred to as: The Swimmers.

Have you ever been preparing to do something and there is this nagging little voice that get’s you to thinking, ‘I shouldn’t be doing this, I should just go home?’

Using the hoist to drop another in the water.

When you try 3 or 4 times to push away from the dock in a little sailboat and the wind just keeps pushing you back against the dock… and all the other boats just glide away easily~ there is that little voice.

So the ‘Swimmers’ finally push off of the dock and get the little boat heading into the bay. We (Sheree and I) reposition ourselves to take some photos of the ‘race’.

We see why that little nagging voice should not be ignored in one of the videos below. For us Floridian’s it’s no big deal, when the water is in the 80′s. The water is only in the 60′s which is absolutely frigid for most of us. Bill, Belinda, and son, (I mean the Swimmers) are all recently from N.Y. so I would surmise that this was not as cold as I am imagining. (see the last YouTube video)

I shall have to wait for the full story. Until then, enjoy the videos.

Ahoy,

Larry

The Swimmers try again to get away from the dock!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThgIdaD3eD4

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vBwmu9WGbc

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5w-ijwulCk

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCPicbmLzXE

For those of you not old enough to remember, we used to have something called “Customer Service.” This was a grand thing. You would walk into a store and pay money, thus walking out of the store with your item. If it didn’t work when you got home and tried to use it, you would simply take it back to the store.

The person standing at the store would exchange it for one that did work, or make some arrangement with you to ensure that you became a ‘happy customer.’

This procedure was done so you would tell all your friends and they would tell their friends and everyone would want to shop in your store. The next thing you know there you are, a major force on the stock market making a zillion dollars with a helicopter on a mega-yacht.

Today is apparently much different. I have the magic of the Internet, heck, I’m using that magic right now.

The set up: There we were, sitting at anchor 2 am, sound asleep in the aft cabin gently rocking with the slow rhythmical ripples in the bay.

When you live on a boat your senses get tuned into it pretty quickly. A different odor (like a melting circuit breaker) or the way the boat rocks will wake you up. This time it was the shifting of the boat with the waves. I could feel the difference as we came around the anchor chain. I also could hear the wind generator winding up. You can pretty accurately guess the wind speed by the pitch of the generator.

Living on shore has several advantages. One of them is that when you go to bed at night, you can be fairly certain that your house will be in the same spot when you wake up.

Sailing is different. I have been suddenly awakened in the wee hours to discover that we were not in the same place. This is a process called ‘dragging the anchor’, which can have catastrophic results.

Anyhow, when you hear an increasing wind and feel it shifting your anchoring position, it gives you cause to wander the weather decks up top. This task has you wearing whatever you happen to be wearing, or not, to check the anchor.

Taking time to get properly attired is directly proportionate to where you are anchored. In a brightly lit anchorage with lots of other boats around you, well I probably want to layer clothing so as not to terrify anyone who may be up checking their anchor as well.

Lonely anchorages, well, you get the idea.

The wind had shifted and we were resting a bit differently on the hook. It’s time to wander the decks and check that we are secured as the goal is to wake up in generally the same spot we went to sleep in.

As I passed my new solar panel charge controller installation that I’m so darn proud of, I notice a slight problem. I’m low on battery power. Strange… with the wind up and having had the sun exchange rays for electrons all day, my battery bank should be much higher.

The wind generator should be making surplus power at this point as the only thing running is the 12 volt reefer.

You know you are a boater when…

It’s 3am and I’m lying on the cabin sole (the floor) with the aft hatch to the engine room propped open. My head is buried into the engine compartment with my unpleasant side protruding in awkward positions holding me in place as the boat rocks at anchor.

Like a surgeon I simply reach behind me and say, “Alligator clips,” as they get slapped into my hand by my able assistant and ship’s Admiral.

“Multi-meter,” I request.

“Long Phillip’s head screw driver,” was next on the list.

“Knife,” is requested to cut open the wire insulation.

“Band-aid.” (self explanatory)

Hummm… the wind generator is producing 12.9 volts going into the charge controller, but nothing is going out. I suspect that the charge controller is not doing its job having passed away sometime after I installed the solar panel.

That is life on a boat. Here we are at the famous juncture of, ‘if it’s not one thing’ then this must be, ‘the other.’

Secure in the knowledge that the anchor is firmly holding we head back to bed. The sun will be up in a few hours and we will once again convert solar energy into battery voltage.

The morning cup of coffee is enjoyed while ordering the necessary part, hence the eMarine reference. I check the calendar and after giving it some thought, I choose the 3-day shipping option, and electronically pay for it. Fast as lightning, they have my money. I figure that if I give it 3-5 days from ordering, I should be in the same place as the part when it arrives after a 50 or so mile drive to get there. We will go ashore for a couple of days and take care of other business as well. So ends day 1.

Day 4. We are sitting ashore anxiously waiting for the part. As soon as it arrives we can return to the boat, effect the repair, and continue on our journey. The part should be here any minute now.

In place of the part (on day4) I received the following email:

Hi!

We received your order for a HRSi Controller.

We are currently out of town at the Annapolis Boat Show.

We can ship that out to you as soon as we get back. (Middle of next week)Sorry for the delays -

Jeremy

Dang it… I didn’t see anything on the webpage about delays in orders. Looking at the calendar it would appear that my part will get shipped sometime around 7-8 days after ordering. The webpage has a scrolling banner on it about the Annapolis Boat Show, but NOTHING about any shipping delays. Adding in 3 more days of travel time– and my original 3 day select shipping order turns into 11+ days. I’ve already paid with PayPal, so canceling the order and restarting is way too time consuming at this point. Let’s hope for a speedy arrival of the part.

Now I have to figure out where I might be when they decide to actually send my part.

Day 6. I hear from the company again after sending another email to them asking if they would overnight it when they ship it, or still send it via the 3-day route, here is the reply;

Middle of the week, so it should ship out Wednesday or Thursday. Let us know the address you would like this shipped to -

Jeremy

We work on the schedule and make necessary adjustments to try to get us in the same place as the part on the same day. The calendar shows Jeremy’s estimate of the middle of next week as day 9. I send the address of a municipal marina on the west coast of Florida and we start traveling again.

Day 9. I send them the address of the marina and get this reply;

Ok Larry. We will ship it to your new address. I just got back in the office, so that will go out tomorrow, and you should be able to receive Friday. Tracking will be sent to your e-mail.

Jeremy

Day 11. No part, no tracking number. I send the following email;

Good morning,

It’s Friday. I’ve not received a tracking number. Has the part been sent yet? (It was supposed to have arrived again today)

I receive the following;

Its shipping out today. tracking will be sent by e-mail from UPS once it ships.

My reply;

So I understand I’ll not receive it on Friday (today) as you advised.

Great.

Apparently I’ve offended Jeremy with my comments as his next email states;

Look – I’ve tried to work with you. I just got back into town with hundreds of things to do and demands from several customers over the past two weeks. Unfortunately you need a controller, and are not at a stationary location which is your problem. I am trying to accomodate to your needs and I am doing everything I can to catch up. Your 1 controller going out today is a part of catching up. Todays shipments are the first going out since returning. Tracking # will be sent to you, which you should receive the controller Monday.

I’m looking forward to receiving the controller on day 14 or 15. It would also appear that our moving about is my problem, which it is and I’m not sure how, a factor in actually shipping the part out. I’ve been enlightened to discover that it is actually I who is being less than accommodating in this transaction. It also appears that there are additional customers with ‘demands.’

When a company takes care of nickels and dimes, dollars will surely follow.

Okay then, we are back to traveling and changing plans. I suppose that I’ll just have to settle back with a refreshing beverage while I continue to wait for my part. I’ll spend this time contemplating on why eMarine kept my payment for the 3 day shipping and wonder at the logic of how poorly they treated my nickels and dimes with a lack of customer service.

After all, I may know people with dollars…

I know, very traumatic if you are not expecting it.  You’ve been enjoying the evening and now the black cloud of depression begins to set in… but wait!  There is hope!

You spot a bunch of coconut trees on the next island just ahead.  There they are, nature’s mixers, yours for the taking.  Salvation looms just above the rum bottle.  All you have to do is open the coconut.

The finished, and ready coconut

You break out your knife and start hacking.   Twenty minutes later you grab a flat headed screwdriver.  Next comes the hammer.   Checking the width of the coconut , you determine that the vise will not open large enough to insert the now mangled and tattered coconut.  Vise grips, pliers, I’ve even tried cutting with a keyhole saw.  The hacksaw was simply too much work.  I was ordered, by the Admiral, to just put the skill saw back down or she would cut the cord.

Frustrated, you toss the coconut into the water where it makes an ungainly ‘kaploop’ as you toss it over the side, unopened, devoid of any rum flavoring.

Aha! There is hope.  Here is the step by step guide on ‘How to open a coconut’.  You shall never again be faced with having to consume your Rum Sundowner without the sweet fresh coconut just waiting for your drinking pleasure.

There are several common tools needed to accomplish this task.   Once you have managed to open a few, you will quickly become an expert and amaze all your friends with your natural survival instincts and abilities.  You could also become very popular should you get selected for the Survivor T.V. series.

If you intend to make a machete one of the tools, and plan on hacking off a once usable limb, you can stop reading now and check your insurance policy.  This is the process your kids can utilize. (sans the rum)

1. Place the coconut on the ground.  It will have three or so semi-flat sides.  Remove toes from the immediate area.

2. Take a small pointed shovel or spade.  Stab the coconut with the convex (outwardly curved portion) toward the inside, or middle, of the coconut.

3. Do the same in reverse order with another shovel.  The object here is to have the back of the shovels against each other.  You do not have to get tremendously deep here, just get a good ‘bite’ into the husk.

4. Now, with the backs of the shovels touching, use the handles to pry open the husk a little bit.  Make a couple of good ‘stretches’ in the husk.

5. Roll the coconut onto another side and repeat.  Then roll it, and repeat.

6. The nut is now exposed and you can easily tear it from the husk.

7. The husk works for your small beachside campfire, as a planter for the pretty orchids, or air plants you may have hanging around (you can sell them to your friends, or they make great gifts).

8. Shake the nut and listen to the milk sloshing around in there.   That is what we are after next.

9. Hold the nut so you can see the top.  There are three plugged holes.  Some folks call this the monkey face.  The ‘mouth’ will always be the softer of the three holes.

10. Poke this hole with the screwdriver you had earlier.  Just kind of dig it out.  If using a knife, be very careful… really, it will hurt, trust me.  I know of such things.

11. Once the plug is dug out, pour the clear rum mixer into any handy container.

Here is the tricky part: deciding if you want to eat the coconut now, flavor it, or save it.  So, to flavor it, pour some rum into the hole and plug with a leftover wine cork you have whittled.   (There is lots of time on a sailboat for these sorts of activities.)  You can decide to cut it in half and make a really cool drink cup out of the lower portion, or any other manner of really extraordinarily cool neat things.  But for now, let’s assume you have an anxious parrot wanting to get at the sweet white meat inside the nut and we need to cut this thing open.

12. Grab that hammer you had earlier and give the nut a couple of easy whacks.  It will crack fairly easy now that the little hole has been dug open.   Whack it into manageable pieces.

13. Get that knife you had earlier.  This will allow you to pry the white meat off of the brown nut shell.  Be careful, you can get cut, trust me, I know of such things.

14. Share the coconut with your parrot.

15. Flavor to taste and then sip the rum as the sun sets.

Enjoy the fresh juice and meat. While you’re at it, tip your drink my way and give us an ‘Ahoy’!

Footnote: In response to readers comments I’ve linked the photos so you can view a larger image. Double click them and there you have it~magic!  And while your at it, leave some comments, or share the link with your friends. It’s all FREE!

By: Nat Manning

Leaving Nassau Harbor consists of a rapid transition from the quiet calm of the seaport to the deep ocean swells of the Tongue of the Ocean. From calm to six foot waves in just a few minutes. From the forty feet of the ship channel through the cut, to over three thousand feet of the Tongue in less than a mile. From inshore to blue water in less time than it takes to make a grilled cheese sandwich. 

While sailing through plunging six foot waves and 25 knots of wind broad off the starboard quarter, I didn’t pay as much attention to Nassau growing smaller and sinking astern as I wanted to.

Leaving port always divides me between the regret of leaving the safe port that I’ve grown to love, and the excitement of sailing off the edge of the world, over the horizon, to a new and exciting destination that promises magic and mysteries waiting to be discovered. I was abruptly snatched from my reverie by the Skipper screaming, “Stop that driveling before I nail your lips to the boom again!”

Though rough, the forty mile voyage from Nassau to Chub Cay in the Berry Islands went very well and quickly. The barren ruggedness of the rocky islands perched at the north edge of the deep abysmal tongue was not lost on the Skipper as we skirted past the famous landmark islands of Whale Cay, Fraziers Hog, Moma Roda, and Diamond Rocks. 

Approaching The inlet at Chub Cay, the Skipper cranked the engine and furled the sails only moments before I crapped in my pants. Though the charts indicated waters to shallow, we followed some of the few navigation aids in the Bahamas into the canal of the marina without ever seeing less than nine feet of water. It has been so long now since we’ve been aground that we are discussing looking for a sand bar to plow into.

Entering the canal into the marina, the sailors world transpires from rugged natural to smooth modern manmade protection as you inter the marina basin from the concrete wall lined canal. Inside, the modern marina has new floating concrete docks and slips with all the class of any three star resort facility. Looking around at the nicest marina we have seen this whole trip, the Skipper got a real dreamy look on his face that frightened me a little bit. In a choked, raspy voice, he said, “We’re staying over here an extra day!”

Chub Cay Marina is a true hurricane hole that would provide complete protection in any weather except a hurricane. Though the wind howled outside and heavy surf pounded the harsh rocky shore, we spent the stillest and quietest night I think of our whole trip. The next day, the Skipper rented a golf cart for the day and we explored the whole island, even visiting the international airport located at the north end of the island. I didn’t get pictures of the airport, but just insert the pictures of the Bimini Airport, it’s close enough.

We became good friends with Harry, the bartender in “Harry’s Bar” and enjoyed the beauty and hospitality of the island. I took lots of pictures, then found a brochure book of the island with better pictures than the ones I took, go figure. Chub Cay is a beautiful place and comes highly recommended for it’s beauty and secluded beaches. 

Remember, step 1… double click the photo to enlarge and then step 2, sign up for your free updates. You will recieve an email asking you to confirm your address, just click it and your all signed up. No spam, no ads, just great stories!

The marina view from the Tiki Bar

While setting up my boat for the next few days of resting at anchor, I sent my small pirate flag up the starboard spreader. It was a simple skull and crossbones, very tasteful for an aging tired out pirate of the Gulf of Mexico.

Without hesitation, the skipper of the SNAP ONE  hoisted his pirate flag in response. Following procedures, his was up the flag halyard on the starboard spreader. I chuckled a bit as Nat’s pirate flag was quite intentionally one size bigger than mine.

I continued my chores on-board my boat and happened to run across another skull and crossbones in my flag locker. Interestingly enough, and by pure happenstance, it was a little larger than the one Nat hoisted. So, with prideful diligence, I ran that flag up the halyard.

Perhaps it was his dignity being questioned with a smaller less manly flag that boiled the blood of the challenged vessel. Maybe it was just Nat’s competitive nature bubbling forth. (He has never completely recovered from losing the great helicopter/airplane race to me some 15 years ago) Nevertheless, there he was, hoisting a larger flag up the main mast. Attempting to secure his short held victory, the code signal flags had come into use and his choice of words was not very pleasant…

The guilty party in action.

Sheree, without prompting, tossed my code signal flags up on deck demanding that we shall be victorious!

I had run up my best flags, called Nat colorful names in reply with the code flags, and had all my pirate flags flying proudly.

Alas, Nat managed to hoist several more, and larger, flags. I was being heckled across the bay. I could see his smug grin through my Nikon 12X50 binoculars.

I felt defeated. A grey cloud had formed over my boat…

Later that evening as Nat was rubbing his victory in my face was when Ellen (wife and boat Admiral) had told me how happy she was that I had ran out of flags.

“Why would you be happy I lost,” I queered.

“Nat was pulling off the bed sheet, he was going to draw a skull and crossbones on it and run it up the mast if you had any more flags left.” Ellen seemed relieved. “I didn’t want to sleep on a sheet-less bed tonight.”

So then, as with all things, time slipped by.

One day we had received a package in the mail from Nat and Ellen. Inside was plain white flag for me to signal my surrender with…

Enraged, Sheree was shaking the white flag at me. “You’re not going to fly this, are you?”

Nat's boat

Time once again passes. Work schedules, dates, places, UPS delivery, the planets… everything must be in correct alignment which would subsequently lead to my ultimate victory.

I tied up in Nat’s marina yesterday evening. We enjoyed several cocktails at the Tiki Bar knowing what would transpire in the morning. My loss would be turned into victory. Harrr me matey, harrr!

With Nat presently sailing aboard another vessel in the Bahamas, this flag would proudly fly for the next several weeks awaiting Nat’s return. Take a look at the top picture; double click it for a close up view. This is what everyone will get to look at from the Tiki Bar for the next few weeks. Nat’s happy pirate boat… he-he-he-he—

Colorful victory is smiling down at me…

The pirate scourge of Land's End Marina arrrrrrrg!

By: Mike Blanchard

Good morning Governor Crist. I know that you are a very busy man with many important issues to oversee so I will try to maintain brevity in this letter.

My name is Mike Blanchard and I currently reside in Vero Beach, Florida. I am 41 years of age and had worked in the fields of security & law enforcement in several states (including Florida) for almost 18 years. I have since changed career paths and am now working as a private sector historical shipwreck researcher, recovery diver, and artifact conservator.

I am writing to you to express some serious concerns that I (as well as many other citizens) have in reference to the State of Florida Division of Historical Resources (DHR) and their intentions to present a Rule Change to state legislators this month (November) which mandates the rules and regulations pertaining to the “private sector” research and recovery of historical shipwrecks in Florida’s coastal waters. The rule I am referencing is 1A-31.

I, along with many other professional/amateur “treasure hunters” and concerned citizens, attended a state hearing at the Guana Tolomato Matanzas Auditorium in Ponte Vedra Beach on October 21st, 2008 in which both the State DHR and the people of the State of Florida were fairly represented. The hearing was set forth to discuss Rule 1A-31 and this was an opportunity for the public to present any comments or recommend changes to the proposed rules content. I will not take up valuable time to reiterate the entire content of the meeting and the details of the specific points that were addressed as it was well documented as a matter of public record and I am sure you have access to the transcripts from said meeting and can review them at your discretion and convenience.

My Father always taught me to stand up, speak strong and true, and when you can’t affect change on your own, address the person(s) who can help your cause… hence my letter to you sir.

I just wanted to take a moment to request that you familiarize yourself with the State DHR’s Rule 1A-31 and address the grievances that were presented at the meeting on October 21st as it will have a strong impact on this great state on many levels and has a direct correlation to revenues generated for this state through tourism, employment opportunities, and media/film/tv events.

The basics of the issue are as follows:

The State of Florida Division of Historical Resources and its respective representatives are employed by and have been entrusted by the people of this state to record and preserve our historical resources for our present and future generations. They have an obligation to educate the public about our cultural heritage through the responsible use of media, museums, and hands-on presentations. Furthermore, the State DHR has been entrusted to protect those historical resources from any harm including deterioration caused by the environment, pilfering, and irresponsible handling.

Currently, the State DHR does not have the funding nor the staffing necessary to fulfill these obligations and rare historical artifacts that have been remanded to their care are misplaced, mishandled, and sit decaying in boxes in warehouses, storage units, and probably even garages. Furthermore, as we “speak”, the many historical shipwrecks which remain in the high energy environment of our coastal waters are being subjected to a constant state of ongoing deterioration. The state has not endeavored to save these sites and once again, does not have the funding or nor the staffing to do so.

AND YET… the State DHR demands through its own rule making process, the ability to control all of our historical resources and they have embarked on a campaign to make it impossible if not illegal for the private sector (the people of the state of Florida) to even search for its rightful historical heritage. I would like to know who gave these individuals the right and ability to make up laws without any public input or redress? These individuals work for the people of the State of Florida and their jobs are publicly funded. Why are they making rules to breakdown the very relationships that can strengthen efforts toward the common goal of preserving our historical resources?

Private sector shipwreck recovery has been the foundation for a good 90% of the projects that marine archaeologists and state agencies have had the opportunity to work on and most of what is in the “state’s collection” and public museums were recovered by and contributed by “treasure hunters”.

There should be a spirit of cooperation and every effort should be made to work hand in hand between the DHR/archaeologists and the public/treasure hunters. Private sector shipwreck salvage groups have always endeavored to follow the rules and regulations set forth by the state (and in some cases sustained great personal loss through those efforts).

I don’t know if you are aware of the impact that the DHR’s rule changes will have on Florida, but here’s something to consider sir:

- Private sector shipwreck salvage groups (aka: treasure hunters) were responsible for making the majority of the historical shipwreck discoveries along our coastline to date and the revenue that these discoveries has generated has been immense! Tourists flock to the “Treasure Coast” to meet famous treasure hunters, see the museums that are filled with our contributions, and go to the beaches to “pursue their own dreams of finding some buried treasure”. Outlawing metal detecting and regulating professional private sector treasure hunting intonon-existence would definately be detrimental to the state’s tourism based economy. Not to mention the fact that many newspapers, news programs, documentaries, feature tv shows and motion pictures have been generated by our endeavors and brought revenue to Florida.

- Private sector shipwreck salvage groups are funded by contracts with private individuals and operate with little or no cost to the taxpayers unlike the State DHR which relies upon tax dollars and grants to operate. Clearly the public supports us in our endeavors as we can only continue to work through their personal financial support & faith in our efforts.

- Private sector salvage operations stimulate the economy and generate employment opportunities in this state by employing everyone from historians, researchers, marine archaeologists, artists, photographers, conservators, divers, crew and support staff, marine mechanics, marina personnel, computer technicians, and even electrical/mechanical engineers. We also generate income for numerous metal detector companies and survey companies. And our contributions to the state has ensured job opportunities for state positions like the DHR and state museum personnel. It amazes me that during a time of war, political uncertainty, and economic hardship, that the State DHR would see fit to put forward a rule that would cause many folks to lose their source of income!

And just a last note… the majority of the private sector shipwreck salvage groups operate in a professional and ethical manner and have a strong respect for the natural environment in which we work. We have also endeavored to meet professional standards in our application of marine archaeological techniques during the course of our operations and have contirbuted a great deal to the advancement of underwater technologies.

I ask you, what has the State DHR created, advanced, or done for the people of Florida?

They have denied exploration and salvage permits to the private sector for the last 15 years and hindered progress with regards to the recovery of our historical resources yet they have granted excavation permits to their friends in the universities within two weeks! Why is that?

They have endeavored to make both the amateur metal detecting citizen and the professional private sector treasure hunters out to be “grave robbers” and “shipwreck looters” despite the fact that they perform exactly the same activities using the same techniques as we do to recover historical artifacts. Why is that?

They have scheduled meetings and hearings pertaining to rulings affecting the salvage community in locations that were inappropriate for the majority of the salvage community to attend and during times that were inappropriate for most to attend. Get the picture?

I ask that the Rule Changes for 1A-31 not be passed into legislation without a more substantial evaluation by both the State of Florida and the people of the State of Florida to ensure that it does not contain wording that would make continued private sector historical shipwreck salvage impossible to continue.

I also ask that the State take a good hard look at the DHR’s motivations behind the suggested rule changes and that their tactics for getting the rule change submitted with minimal public scrutiny be investigated.

Well, all that being said, it is my hope that my comments were clear and well stated and I hope that I will have the opportunity to thank you in person sometime in the near future for any efforts that you may extend on the behalf of the private sector shipwreck salvage community and the people of the State of Florida. I hope I never have to ask the question, “Whatever became of the Treasure Coast?”

If you have any questions about my comments or would like to reach me in person, you are welcome to contact me at: home phone 772-569-XXXX or cell phone 772-713-XXXX.

Kindest regards, Mike Blanchard

Editors note:

The phone number for Mr. Blanchard was edited out. If you desire contact with him please submit your request through the main webpage @ www.southerncrosses.com

There is not much to this story, nothing really new, or too terribly exciting. It’s my way of mentally escaping every now and then. Sometimes I can actually make it to the beach, sometimes I have to do the ‘zen out of body experience’ and just look at pictures.

1600's Nautical navigation chart

In any event, I’m going to the beach now. The sights and sounds are amazing if you slow down long enough to take a look. Most of the beaches I’ve found are terribly crowded. Some however, are amazingly desolate for being so close to civilization. I much prefer the desolate beaches. They are mostly the ones I have to get to by boat, during everyone else’s work week.

We were walking along on Anclote Key one day and found this little crab in a shell. He appeared to be doing nothing more than idling away his day waiting on the tide to come back in. He was in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything. I envied the crab a little. So relaxed and peaceful, well, until I came along and disturbed him.

The beach I’m on has been here literally hundreds of years, and has changed only little. Hurricanes come and go, shorelines shift and change, but this is like it was in the 1500′s. I found a nautical chart at the Library of Congress that showed Anclote Key as an anchorage for the explorers back then. There is a little anchor symbol in just about the same spot I anchor at. (Click on the chart for a closer view, look near the upper center) French, Dutch, English, Spanish, everyone that had a chart stopped here. It was listed as having fresh water up the Anclote River, along with game and fruit.

No hurries back then, just basic survival. It was without question a tough way to live, hunting your food down in something other than a grocery store isle, where gasoline prices determined what your tomato cost. But then again, they didn’t have to worry about failing economy’s, what to wear to work that day, or why did my retirement fund simply vanish.

They spent a lot of time on the beach. Here was most of what they needed. Fish, oysters, clams, and inland was the fruit, deer, and fowl.

I stand on this beach sometimes and try to wonder what the early explores felt when they looked upon the unspoiled land of unlimited opportunity. Spanish Galleons simply used this as a stop over point to replenish their fresh water and food stores while transiting from Cuba to Mexico and back. The native Indians looked at the odd people and were happy when they sailed on.

Waiting for the tide to come in

I’ve anchored my sailboat in the same place they anchored their wooden ships. Sailors of that time only knew a compass and the sun for time and speed. I have a GPS that keeps me within a tenth of a second, and 7 feet, anywhere on earth. I don’t know if I would brave the journey they did, even with my wind generator and solar panels. It is remarkable what the explorers accomplished, especially considering what they had to work with. One such visionary stood on this beach over 400 years ago. He looked at the same stars I am looking at, he listened to the same relentless surf washing the shore I hear today. We were both barefoot. Many years have drifted into the eternity of the cosmos. Many souls have pondered the past and the future from this beach. They were brave indeed, and here they stood, in the very same spot I am today. Perhaps he was looking at a crab, just like mine.