The sun rose in the eastern sky as I sipped hot coffee and had my first smoke of the day. A passing boat off in the distance made tiny waves as they hit me broadside, causing a little rocking motion, not enough to require sealegs. I had anchored in a cove yesterday, no place special, but quiet, which is what I live for these days. I left the everyday world in my wake as I said goodbye to who and what I had, and stowed only what I would need on my boat as I plotted a course to points south.
I had purchased a trawler well known for its comfort, but not for speed, which topped out at twelve miles per hour. But I wasn't in a hurry by any means, and fuel wasn't cheap.
Friends told me I'd be lonely on the water with no one to talk to, but I had the voices of the mermaids and the sound of dolphins, which was better than any conversation with a man. I spoke to the seagulls and they spoke back. I listened to the waves lap against the sides of the boat, which lulled me to sleep every time I drifted off, and I woke every morning to the rising sun warm upon my face.
I left port on a stormy September morning with no one there to say goodbye, and I never once looked back at the life I once thought important. It would take me about three weeks to reach the Bahamas, a place I'd always wanted to go but never did. My journey was not always one of smooth sailing, and I sometimes had to seek shelter from high seas and hurricane-force winds that could damage my boat.
On one such day, I found an inlet on the charts that would get me to safety just before the storm hit with a vengeance. I set anchor and closed the hatches as the boat rocked back and forth, the winds in excess of fifty mph testing the worthlessness of my boat. Luckily, the storm passed quickly, and I was able to move ahead towards my goal of reaching the islands in a couple of weeks.
On a warm October day, somewhere along the Florida coastline, I came upon a cluster of boats anchored in a cove, which appeared to be a party in the making as kids swam and adults fished for their supper. I waved as most boaters do, and heard shouts of welcome to join them. So I slowly moved into the circle and dropped anchor. Perfect strangers, brought together by their love for boats and the water, waded towards my boat, with one happy boater holding a beer. He gave it to me, saying there was plenty more, so I should drink up!
As night began to fall, a group of people built a bonfire on a sandbar, where many gathered to share their journeys, some nearing completion, while others, like me, were just starting. Freshly caught fish were cooking on a cooking grate made for just that purpose, while kids made s'mores and chased bait fish around the sandbar.
It was a nice time, but come morning, I'd leave them to the rest of their weekend and continue on my journey. After a week had passed, my legs needed stretching, and fuel was getting low, so I pulled into a dockside marina where several boats were tied up, probably to have a well-deserved break from cooking on their small grills. Other boats were waiting their turn at the fueling station, so I motored in at the back of the line, knowing it was going to be a long night.
The restaurant at the marina was very friendly, and the people were dressed in their boating clothes, which cost more than the fuel. Their boats, some yachts, were million-dollar boats, probably steaming south for the winter, only to return in late spring to their home port. My mouth was watering for a steak, so even though I was underdressed, I ordered my steak, enjoying every little bite in my cut-off shorts and flip-flops.
Under way the following morning, I steered south, and the chart told me I had another week before reaching the islands.
Finally, the day arrived, and as I spotted islands in the distance, I had made it without any real difficult situations, which surprised me, I must admit. I contacted the harbor master on the radio, requesting a slip where I would stay for a month, and was told to proceed to slip number 120. Arriving, I was greeted by a young man who caught my lines and secured my boat perfectly between two much larger boats without as much as a scratch on anything. I tipped him as he began to tell me about all there was to do on the island, including day excursions to smaller islands, some loud and crazy, and others a quiet day of lounging on the beach and sipping margaritas.
The time on the islands flew by, and I found myself going over charts to map out my next adventure. I decided to motor west, where I'd pick up the Intracoastal and spend some time in the narrow waterways that offered scenic views of days past, with small fishing boats competing for a catch on one side and modern marinas with all the amenities I needed, such as supplies and fuel.
I followed the seasons, steaming South for the winter months and back north for summer. I discovered the life of a live-aboard and never once regretted my decision to pursue this lifestyle at this stage of my life. I truthfully wondered why I hadn't begun it sooner.
Mike 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment