Work Wanted

I know you get tired of hearing from me. So here is a post written from Jake’s perspective (how he’d have written it if he has time/inclination/interest in sharing).

Spending time with my parents is ok. Dinnertime, that is. I like spending dinnertime with my parents particularly on those occasions when steak or shrimp is on the menu. But the rest of the time? No thanks. Which is the problem with cruising. So I’ve spent the last week scouting for a job in Brunswick. I’ll walk in a restaurant and ask if I can fill out an application. “I don’t have enough work for myself,” is the frequent reply. I even showed up at the library to volunteer. “We only have paying positions,” was the response. “Ok. Can I get an application?” “Sorry. We don’t have any paying positions right now.” Librarians. They are such practical jokers. My parents keep saying small towns are like that and I have to be persistent to find anything. But I have the feeling I’ll finally land my first choice job at the busy pizza joint downtown and it’ll be time to leave. Maybe I can break through at the library and have them create the first unpaid position in the history of their institution. I think they kind of like abusing me.

Cheers Mate

Michelle often describes herself as a gypsy. She travels. She avoids buying stuff, opting instead for a life of experience rather than things. She works intermittantly, saving furiously for the next trip. She is drawn to new people everywhere she goes and takes up with them as old friends. Her lastest experience - 53 days with the Fuchs family - has been a sea trial of unique proportions. She had to have her hair groomed daily by Lily. Jacob was her frequent shoreside companion and told outrageous lies about her land activities such as, "She keeps trying to take me to bars," and "She tried to set me up with a 8 year old." She was asked numerous times if she was my sister. And when she started mentioning she needed to go home, the Captain quit sailing to towns with airports. I picture her at home tonight, thinking that experience is pretty darn overrated. Yet, we know her well, and know that she is remembering every moment in the best light. She had her own special relationship with each of us and we are all missing our gypsy mate and hoping her wandering path leads here again someday. One of her most used expression was "Cheers Mate" and she never took a drink of anything, from beer to a tall glass of water, unless she'd first offered to get others a drink. So tonight, "Cheers Mate" to Michelle. We will miss you! It was a great way to start our voyage.

Eating watermelon in Brunswick, GA

We have been making our way up the Florida coast, overnighting in Cape Canaveral and Fernandina Island. Jake caught the biggest waves yet at Fernandina Beach and the marina is right at the heart of the quaint little island tourist town. It was very nice but we decided to continue North as Florida has that Hurricane Bullseye sitting on most of its coast. We pulled in to Brunswick, GA, yesterday, sailing past islands which look great for exploring. The Dockmaster, Sherrie, met us at the slip to catch lines and announce that we were at the best Hurricane Hole on the east coast. Her chihauhau, Killer, pranced about in a pink dress and gave Chewy a few high pitches warnings. Sherrie pointed to the free laundry, gave us a map of the many restaurants within walking distance and asked us if we wanted a free watermelon that another cruiser left at the office (we did). We may be here for awhile.

Fort Pierce, FL

We made great time from Marathon Key to Fort Pierce Fl thanks to the Gulf Stream. It is strange to go 7 knots in 0 knots of wind. All night long we coasted, listening to the Coast Guard broadcast a message to area vessels to be on the lookout for another sailboat, Pisces, which was overdue on its trip from Miami to Key Largo. Unfortunately, the Coast Guard does not broadcast info when a lost vessel is located so we never get any closure after thinking of all the various things that might have caused another sailor's delay. Hopefully, the Pisces crew is now accounted for and enjoying a "It coulda been worse" round at the local bar. We would have kept going North another day but the cool front that has broke the Oklahoma-Texas heat wave is making its way down here creating some thunderstorms. We are glad so many of you are finally getting a break even though it sounds like every blade of grass, flower petal and even Dad's black-eyed peas are past rescue. May the rest of the summer be cool and pleasant!

Something ate half of this Barracuda before we could get it reeled in.

This one didn't get eaten...what's with all the Barracuda?

Salute to Richard Gordon Pixley

Larry Joe is an outlaw. What laws have been compromised, we didn't ask. His stories were too enthralling to interrupt. Most of the time, you hear a stranger's stories and must picture the characters involved. But Larry Joe carries a little photograph album in his back pocket. He pulled out the tattered little album proudly to show us his ex-wife and her husband, whom he is friends with, his son and daughter-in-law and two grandkids, Bubbette 1 and Bubbette 2. His dog was there and his previous inlaws too. There is also a black and white picture of a handsome young man with dark curls. Pixley was the only guy he ever fought naked and you don't forget a fight like that, he says. The fight started in the military shower when Larry Joe called Pixley a Yank and Pixley retorted with all the Southern slurs he knew. The next day they went to Vietnam together with black eyes and bloody noses that they had given each other and, from that fight on, they were brothers in arms. They watched each others' back. They shared their fears and lived out those fears daily. Pixley never came home. He is buried in Franklinville, NY, a place Larry Joe would normally have had no reason to see, it not being in the south or on the coast. Larry Joe goes there every year on Memorial Day. He sits by Pixley and drinks until the local cops come by to check on him and suggest that he'd better not drive. They offer him a ride. He accepts because he likes to tell the people of Franklinville NY about their soldier. I'll never forget, he says. Just think of those guys. Just remember. They didn't want to give their lives. Their lives were taken. And we are here.

Bahia Honda State Park

Lily is shown above singing and hanging out her laundry. I know you think we are always doing laundry but today we actually swam, snorkled, walked Chewy on the Bahia Honda State Park trails and shared a pint of ice cream in the cockpit. Chewy got thrown off the no-dogs-allowed beach and pouted in the shade while we swam. Apparently, swimming with dogs is considered unhygenic in Florida. I am sure Chewy was thinking, "You can't tell me they are all holding it for this long" as we swam and swam. We saw an iguana on our walk and a sting ray in the water. Pork chops on the grill are planned for tonight. We are planning to sail the short distance to Marathon Key tomorrow. Jacob spent all his free time in Key West pricing skim boards. One broke toe just isn't enough.

Keep Key West Weird

Key West is surprisingly tacky yet refreshingly unrefined. At Naples City Dock, we were politely discouraged from hanging the laundry on the lifelines to dry. Not that they mind, of course, but there is a steady stream of locals who come down to the dock and like to see the city keep a respectable appearance. We’re anchored at Key West instead of berthed at a marina. However, I get the impression that the locals here can accommodate both the washing-optional or the clothing-optional lifestyle. If you prefer to wash, by all means, hang the laundry wherever and expect a friendly wave if the display includes sexy undergarments. The street performers offer a lot of insight into the town at their until-sunset variety show. The Great Rondini mentioned that if you’re straight, that’s OK at Key West. If you’re gay, that’s OK at Key West. If you are bi, that is just being greedy. In short, local color abounds here. They’d readily understand Austin’s “Keep Austin Weird” motto but they don’t seem to have all those tech nerds threatening their weirdness. If we get a chance to visit the sidestreets, maybe there will be guys wearing laced shoes in the shadows discussing Steve Job’s health. (Scott & Sherrie, if you’re out there sign up as followers and we’ll lay off Austin tech nerds. Lily so misses O and Anna). On the medical front, we are currently foregoing Jake’s toe surgery. We got vastly different opinions from the Naples ortho and the podiatrist who treated Jake. Since we are on the boat and on the move, we are opting for the old-fashioned tape-and-hope approach which has worked so well on the knee and finger. I suppose we could have consulted the palm reader last night regarding whether the toe will ever look normal. We didn’t even think of that question after learning that Jake would not be supplying us with any future grandchildren! Hopefully, it is not the crooked toe that scares the women all away.

This Little Piggy Went Skim Boarding

Jake's toes have always looked a little, well, funny. Today at the beach, he took a crack at skim boarding and wipedout. He looked down and the fourth little piggy was standing straight up. He calmly limped to Dad to show him the damage. Dad tried to push the fourth little piggy into his proper place and that is when the excruciating pain set in. A doctor was consulted after Dad's medical services were deemed unacceptable. X-rays revealed a fracture at the growth plate and surgery is imminent. Apparently, little piggy needs a pin in order to assure proper alignment. Wee Wee Wee Maybe We Should Run Home. (Just joking, grandparents, don't get all excited)