And so, with rain once again on our tail, we enter our final body of water for this journey: Tarpon Basin. The place Spun Key sailed in her prime (before Phil gave her that sex change in Feb which turned her into a power boat). As we arrived we couldn’t help checking on the neighbors: Mark’s duplex, our fishing hole triad of boats, Royce’s boat, Chris’ boat, all present and accounted for!
That is when it happened. In that moment when we were both most relaxed, that is when we slammed into that giant, flat coral head along outside corner of the point. We felt it lurch us forward, and then rock us backwards. Then we floated across and held our breath. I’m staring at Phil (who is casually piloting back into the channel) and being still as a mouse. Listening, waiting for another bump. But that was it. Nothing more. Just that one little reminder to us both that being “at the helm” means to always be watching and alert.
Although we had done our research on the ICW, we never had gotten around to finding the deepest hole in Tarpon Basin. So now we had to set temporary anchor and take Spun Key and our lead weight out to chart the bottom. It only took about 40 minutes to find the one 50’ area that is deeper than anywhere else. By then the drizzle had arrived with rain was surely soon to follow.
As Phil told me to head back to Our Tern, he squatted on Spun Key’s little cabin and started to spin around to move back into the cockpit. But the deck under his flip-flops was wet from the drizzle. In that split second he spun - right off the deck and into the water. I’m reducing engine speed, steering clear of him, and to start my circle around to collect him. Although I can see him, I’m beginning to wondering why he hasn’t come up yet. Then he arrives… clenched fist first, holding that lead weight straight above his head! And we’re both laughing aloud. He’s laughing so hard he can barely sputter something about his silly pound of lead. I’m telling him this count as our Man Overboard Drill. Quickly he hops up over the side, pours a gallon of water into Spun Key’s cockpit and I’m powering up to plane.
Within three minutes we were back at Our Tern and Phil was climbing aboard to shower off and change clothes. But before I could even tie us up, our neighbor Chris was along side wanting to be the first to tour our boat. Since he lives on a 28’ sailboat (without ac), he was mighty impressed by the wideness of our beam and the size of our AC. But it took about 30 minutes of hostessing before we got him to shove off so we could move anchor.
About 7:30 pm we had finally pulled anchor and motored over to the pool we selected for our mooring. If the clouds had cleared, we would have had a front row seat for sunset. Instead, it is raining again and the wind rose as the temperature fell. I’m at the helm slipping the engine into neutral and Phil is kneeling at the bowsprit with his hands on the anchor. And that is when the lightening struck and the thunder clapped. In unison, we looked at each other in horror. And then our eyebrows rose as we felt the hair on our arms rise as the wave of electric current flowed over us! Right over heads! Not a boom all day and not we’re not only sitting ducks, but we have a 56’ lightening rod pointed straight at the cloud. But not another thunder clap did it bring. My Saint Barbara just saying farewell as she moved on out to sea.
One thing for sure, that was the quickest anchoring we’ve done to date. In minutes we were inside the cabin with Cuka. Trying to sort out what stays aboard and what goes ashore on the first run… maybe only run tonight if the weather settles in. Cuka and her cage for sure. The GPS and electronics. We sure don’t need the dirty clothes. And there are no more perishable foods on board to worry about. I elect to leave behind the peanut butter and half loaf of bread (for the days ahead when we start tackling that rather long to do list). The next two days are for cleaning and settling back into land life. The onus of which is the 12 hours day - driving one final trip to Ft Pierce (in a one-way rental to collect my car, Spun Key’s trailer, Phil’s truck and all the tools and other items we left in that storage unit).
But for now, all is well. Our first adventure was fine. A little challenge, several classes in the school of hard knocks, and hours of sailing along peacefully admiring the sun, the marine life, and the gentle rock of the ocean. Yep, a sailor’s life for me!