Chapter 9: We Flee Old Man Winter

After a well-appreciated breakfast of oatmeal, cream and sugar I sat watching the wind whipped snow outside the window.

I piped up with, "We can pick up and go wherever we want. What the fuck are we doing wintering-over in god-forsaken Boston?"

She replied "Hell if I know. I thought you were driving."

I face-palmed myself.

"Fuck. We're a team. If you catch me being an idiot, speak up, will ya?"

"Okay."

She didn't last over two minutes. "Hey, you idiot. It's freezing out there. Let's get the fuck out of here!"

I sighed. Well, I had asked for it.

"Okay, where to?"

I didn't hear anything but Jimmy Buffet singing the praises of Margaritaville for the rest of the week. Jesus God, woman. Don't you think I can take a hint? Key West, here we come.

We took on fuel at Ocean City, Maryland. The countryside looked interesting but Fucking Jimmy Buffet kept playing on the stereo. Insistent goddamned woman. There wasn't jack shit as far as services until we hit Port Canaveral. There we had the whole wash, wax, massage, check the tires, check the oil and fill-er-up routine. There was a local office there that rep'd our engines, so I picked up two spares of every pump, two sets of carbs and a bolt-on hi-torque electric motor with a manual throw-out clutch that would start one of the engines come hell or high water, as long as we had diesel, and a little electricity. Angie understood where I was going with the engines and approved with no hesitation. Nobody wants to be marooned somewhere up god's asshole with no engines. If I couldn't get either to start then I'd damned well rebuild her as a stern wheeler and we'd slap our way home.

We picked up some fishing tackle to try our luck. We never figured that we'd get out into the kind of waters where we'd need a fighting seat but I had fun figuring out how to make a 'side plane' work. It would hold a line out a hundred yards or so to the side then let nature take its course. We ran our baits shallow to keep from hooking into anything that we weren't ready for. Did I tell you about the time I caught a tern with rod and reel? The stupid fucking bird dove under the surface and tried to swallow my bait. It was the funniest thing you ever saw until you realized that the poor bird was fighting for its life. I reeled it in as fast as I could and held it in one hand while de-hooking it with the other. I used needle-nosed pliers. The little bastard tried to take a chunk out of my thumb but failed. I think we scarred his poor little birdie-psyche for life. He sure shat a mean streak as he flew away. Birds au-naturel stink to high heaven, and diving seabirds ought to leave little oil slicks, they're so greasy.

Fort Lauderdale hosts Port Everglades. I made a unilateral decision to bunker up and check our galley stores, as the prices would only go up from there. We spent a few hundred on victuals and booze, picked up a couple of beach chairs, topped off our diesel stores, bought a few sets of clean clothes and motored on.

We puttered around the whole island looking for a place to put up. South beach looked like a winner, near Seminole Street. I found it amazing to see all those commercial resorts with no beaches! What the hell were the tourists here for? Drinking? You could do that anywhere! I wanted to feel some sand between my toes. We took a room at The Reach beach resort which gave us access to their private beach. I hauled my old duffel bag out of storage and broke it down under Angie's watchful eye. I amazed myself that I had everything I needed to live in that thing. I ended up distributing everything from my old kit around the ship, be it kitchen, machine room, clothes closet or general stores for the tarps. I kept out my little pot, grill, charcoal, fatwood and charcoal burner. I put the cat-hole trowel in my back pocket to cover the evidence. We were going to have a picnic on the beach!

We packed a little cooler with drinks and chicken strips marinating in a baggie. I made sure that I had a butane lighter in my shirt pocket and a couple scraps of paper. We sauntered out onto the beach and set up for a picnic for two. My old wool blanket served as our floor away from the sand. It was a pleasant day of about eighty-three degrees (F) with a breeze coming off the ocean. After dinner we relaxed as we watched the rollers come onshore.