A Feeble Attempt at Windsurfing...Cabarete, D.R.

Well 'feller barstool sailors, contrary to prevailing perceptions I can and do gets' an occasional urge to do a little sailin' once in a whiles not 'dat I 'specs any of you fine folks to neccessarily give a rat's ass one ways or another.

And whiles my infrequent sailin' urges do be sumwhats akin to a "typin'-wit'-one-hand" kind of urge, it still be but an infrequent urge that one mights perhaps randomly indulge in jest' to proves 'dat one still cans.

So yep, 'dat was me out on the water one lovely morning while vacationing in La Republica Dominicana, and doing my darndest to do a little windsurfing 'jest to prove 'dat I could.

Unfortunately I be the first to admit 'dat I didn't do too good at my one and only attempt on the board. I'll also has ya'll know 'dat windsurfing ain't easy either. In fact, I'd say it was darn right hard keeping meself' upright on 'dat board.

No sooner would I'd get up on 'dat board when I'd suddenly lose my balance and plunge back on into the water. In hindsight my feeble attempt at windsurfing kinda-sorta reminds me of the time when I took Salsa Dance lessons a whiles back. And I also be da' first to admit 'dat 'dem Salsa Dance lessons was an ill advised whim resulting in unequivocal failure.

Nope, some things jest' ain't meant to be and windsurfing along wit' Salsa Dancing 'jest ain't be in da' works fer' me.

And I'll also has ya' knows 'dat I now be pushing sixty here shortly and ain't a kid no mo'. Yippers... I be a barstool sailor and it a suit me jest' fine. In any event I should probly' feel good about da' fact dat' I can raise my "mast" wit' hardly any effort whatsoevers which be a mighty fine thing now 'dat I comes to think of it!



Casa Mami's. Excellent local fare at a reasonable price. Cabarete, D.R.



Sosua, D.R.







Cabarete, D.R.

Finding Time for a Little Boat Maintenance...

Me do thinks dat 'der are plenty of wanna-be sailor fellers outs 'der dat do needs to be enlightened sumwhats 'bout livin' aboard a boat and how it ain't all frivolous fun n' games all da time either.

For ya see, 'der be mundane boat chores and maintenance to be done all da times whedder's one wants to do 'dem or not. And doin' chores jest ain't sumptin' I particularly likes doing, especially if I mights has had indulged in a few pitchers of cold beer da prior evening.

But dat feller sailors is another story all togethers and one dat I'd jest as soon rather not talks about at dis very moment if ya knows what I means.

First of all ders always dat small matter of dirty dishes in da galley in dire need of a good wash. Den der always da hassel of remembering to buy more gasoline fer the dinghy. Den ones needs to remember to make sure dat ya mix da gasoline and motor oil in da right proportion for dat two stroke outboard motor for otherwise ya jest might burn it out.

And of course one always gots to remember to refill ones water cans whenever goin' ashore and dat too can be a hassle as well 'cause sumtimes ya gots to go a sneakin' around and a borrowin' somebody's water hose when dey ain't be a looking... especially if ya be at anchor up somewheres up in Key Largo.

Den ders dat small matter of havin' to remember to top off da marine battery wit sum distilled water of all things before da dang thing up and croaks on ya.

Yet nevertheless amongst' da least tolerable chores as far as I'd be concerned was a havin' to scrape barnacles and smutz off da hull of de boat.

Don't knows why, but jest da thought of gettin' in da water to scrape off barnacles seemed all too laborious of a chore fer me and was always a chore best left fer another day.

Anywho, I'd eventually come around to scrapin' Blondie's hull whedders' I wanted to or not. I'd slip on my mask and fins but not before a spittin' in my mask and swirlin' da spit around so dat my mask wouldn't fog up on me once in da water.

Presumably spit does has sum' magnetic properties or sumsuch dat keeps da mask from a foggin' up. What can I say other thans' it worked fer me everytime.

And I'd also be sure to wear some thick work gloves while diving on da hull and while zealously scraping away all dem frickin' little critters a clinging to da bottom of da boat wit an ordinary metal paint scraper.

'Cause if ya don'ts wears any gloves, den yor sure to wind up wit sum scraped up, bloody knuckles and dat ain't necessarily a good thing considering dat it be sumptin' dat could of been avoided in da first place. Jest trust me on dis one feller sailor, cause I do speaks from prior experience in dis matter.






And nope feller sailors... dat ain't a drop cloth wrapped around Blondie's boom with white paint spilled all overs it in case ya might has been a-wonderin'.... but rather insteads it be a sail cover wit bird poop splattered all overs it.

I did eventually attempt to clean dat bird poop off the sail cover. I followed some advise dat I'd previously come across somewheres and tied dat thing off of  Blondie's transom.

One would have only thunk dat submerging dat sail cover in the water would have done da trick but it didn't. Dat bird poop steadfastly refused to dislodge itself until I took it ashore and put a pressure hose to it alongs wit a stiff brush and a good amount of elbow grease.




Oh... I's almost forgots to mention dat occasionally cleaning da bilge is also a part of da deal insofar as boat maintenance be concerned. And do remember dis feller sailor.... bleach is a good thing... the more 'da better... jest don't lets any marina nazis see ya using da stuff 'cause den ya will be sure to get an earful of some unsolicited environmental commentary.





Unfortunately howevers, evens though I now be off da boat, I stills ain't been able to completely avoids havin' to do sum occasional mundane chores around da house.

Yep, dat be me a scrubbing smutz off da sides of my lady-friends pool. So much for the so-called concept of "friends wit benefits" dang it. Der jest simply ain't no gettin' away from a havin' to do maintenance of one sort or another whedder' one be on a boat or otherwise.

Howevers I jest can'ts complains too much cause my lady-friend do has a Haitian feller come on over to da house every other week to mow da grass and dat certainly be a good thing as far as I be concerned.





Yep, when I ain'ts a workin' at da office, I be a cleanin' da pool. Well heck... I got's to earn my keep sumhows'.

Wiping Out Along the Bow in the Middle of the Night...

Thank goodness for the change in seasons and that winter is almost a thing of the past. And it ain't just because of any chilly weather that might blow down to the Keys but rather because Garrison Bight simply doesn't offer much protection against northerly winds.

All of which means that northerly winds can and will invariably kick up some nasty swells for days on end. And believe me when I tell ya that it ain't no fun dinghying out to one's boat late in the evening after having indulged in a few cold ones for it can be a long wet ride.

Well just the other evening I almost met another untimely demise while aboard my boat. Winds had been gusting some 25 to 30 knots when I just had to climb up on deck in the middle of the night for whatever compelling reason to check on my mooring lines.

And that's when my little toe happened to snag some volleyball netting that had come unfastened and was now violently swaying in the gusting winds thereby sending me into a full and complete head first sprawl along the pitching deck.

In but an instant I was crashing across the bow of the boat and had it not been for the toe-rail that I happened to brace myself against at the last moment, I would have most certainly gone into the drink for an unscheduled swim in the middle of the night.

I did somehow manage to slightly bruise a knee and my other foot during my brief and unforeseen little incident yet I gotta believe that I got off rather easy if the truth be told.

It goes without saying that the volleyball netting that had been previously fastened to the lifelines by the boat's previous owner was unceremoniously removed and disposed of a few days later once the swells finally laid down.

I Hear Voices Calling Me...

Dadgummit! I knows dat it ain't my imagination that be running wild but der are times when I do swear to hearing voices a talking to me when I least expects it.

Invariably I hear da voices late at night when I be by me-self aboard my boat wit nuttin' to do but piddle around and gaze up at da distant stars.

It usually be the same soft, soothin' voice tellin' me that there be a whole world out der awaiting for me and dat it be high time that I give up da ghost of any more sailing adventures.

It also be da same voice a telling me dat companionship is da key to happiness and not sum remote, illylic, tropical island awaiting to be rediscovered.

In any case it could simply be dat I just mights have a bad case of island-fever and that hiking da Appalachian Trail just might be da cure for whatever it is that be ailing me...

An Early Morning Oh Crap Moment...

PROCEED WITH A LITTLE BIT OF CAUTION...MILD ADULT CONTENT AHEAD...

Not that I've ever been told otherwise, but I do know that I'd be somewhat remiss if I were to only ever recount my "adventurous" sailing exploits while conveniently omitting any mention of the occasional, inadvertent sailing screw-up.

SOooo... against my better judgement, I will indeed 'fess up to an inglorious, "oh crap, sailing moment" which just so happened to occur the morning following my uneventful seven hour sail on down from Bahia Honda and on into Key West.

And yep... Ya'll heards' me right 'cause ya'll did indeed hear me use the phrase "screw-up", a phrase commonly used to describe a careless, poorly thought out action or inaction for that matter resulting in a bit of misfortune.

So... after sailing on in to Key West a few months ago, I dropped an anchor just offshore of Flemming Key among a number of other sailing vessels at anchor. And as previously narrated in a prior blog entry, I was indeed quite exhausted yet most relieved to have sailed in without further incident.

Well I must have been blissfully sound asleep soon after sunset and after chowing down a simple yet satisfying meal of steamed rice served along with a tin of salmon cooked with sauteed onions, and capers.

In fact, I gotta believe that I was so hungry that I inadvertently scarfed that meal down faster than how a hungry stray-dog might gulp down an errant hot-dog... I was that hungry.

And before ya'll turn your collective noses up at my concoction, kindly remember that I be on a boat and that one must make sacrifices and make do with whatever one might have stowed within one's tote-box that serves as the boat's pantry.

It also goes without saying that the gentle rocking motion of the boat at anchor after indulging in a full-blown meal had the effect of making it feel as if I were snoozing in a shaded hammock. So yeah, I slept blissfully throughout the night and well on till sometime before daybreak.

So it was around four-thirty in the morning or so that I eventually awoke feeling completely rested and wide awake. Sunrise wouldn't be happening for at least another hour or so and even then some.

And since it was still dark outside and because I wasn't in any particular hurry to pull up anchor and set sail just yet, I did the only sensible thing at that hour of the morning and that was to brew myself a pot of coffee.

I'd have all day to pull up anchor and scoot on up around the north end of Flemming Key and back on down to the Garrison Bight Mooring Field. So yeah, indulging in a pot of Folgers finest 100% Colombian Coffee was indeed in order at that very moment as I settled back in for a bit of quiet time.

I suppose that if I had any misgivings at that particular moment, it was that there wasn't an attractive Colombiana to be found anywhere aboard my boat so that I might have someone to share my coffee with.

So yeah, sharing my coffee with an attractive Colombiana early that morning would have suited me just fine if you know what I mean.

But alas, it was just me aboard my boat with but a robust pot of Colombian Folgers Coffee at that hour of the morning and no one there to share it with.

So that is how I spent the next hour or so while waiting for daylight... sipping on a comforting pot of coffee while perusing over a few Grandmaster chess games that I'd previously downloaded onto my laptop.

Hey... what can I say other than that we all have our "secret pleasures" and that I for one happen to be readily captivated by the cold logic of chess. Much like how an art critic might perhaps find them self captivated by the visual beauty of some random oil painting.

Well heck, while I'm thinking about it, I suppose that chess could perhaps be defined as an "artistic expression of logic". But that my dear friend will have to be a topic for another day.

In hindsight it is the "quiet moments" such as this that one relishes the most while cruising aboard a boat and this indeed was such a moment for me. Nevertheless it was while relishing my quiet moment when I unexpectedly heard and felt a gentle thump followed immediately by another thump.

But the reality of it all is that there is no such thing as a "gentle thump" insofar as boats are concerned for a gentle thump can very soon escalate into a loud THUMP and then possibly further escalate into what sounds like a CRUNCH.

And if one were to have the misfortune of striking a reef, then one might even hear a sickening CRACK followed by the gentle sounds of gulp, gulp, gulp as the boat takes on water.

So no... there is no such thing as a gentle thump while one is aboard a boat.
Needless to say, that unexpected "thump" had me immediately scampering up on deck to see who in the hell might have incautiously set their anchors only to then have their dang boat drag on into mine at that un-gawdly hour of the early morning.

Yet it was while assessing the situation and valiantly straining to fend my boat from bumping yet again into another boat that was quietly at anchor, that I reluctantly concluded that it was none other than my own anchor who had been grossly negligent and at fault.

Not only was my anchor remiss in not doing what I had specifically instructed it to do but it also had the temerity to drag during the night only to then snag onto another boat's anchor rode.

Well heck, it wasn't my fault that my anchor didn't stay put as I had emphatically instructed it to do... and it also wasn't but a moment or two later when the captain of that other boat also suddenly also sprung up on deck to assess the situation as well.

And I must be getting old or something 'cause that captain seemed to be but a kid and couldn't have been much more than half my age. He did however appear to be rather unfazed and remarkably composed now that I come to think about it.

Nevertheless it was while assessing how to untangle the anchors that his female companion also appeared up on deck while still showing obvious signs of being half asleep.

But what made her sudden appearance up on deck rather memorable was the fact that she happened to be strikingly attractive and was wearing but an ordinary pair of white cotton panties along with a skimpy top... yet protruding just beneath that skimpy top were her "girls"... eagerly pressing out from within and inadvertently disconcerting me to no end.

So yeah... I was indeed unnerved at the sight of that attractive young lady idly standing up on deck in the soft moonlight while she rubbed the sleeppies out of her eyes with her balled up hands.

And after much effort I eventually did divert my attention back to the task at hand and together, the other captain and I successfully un-twined the anchor rodes without much ado.

Blondie-Dog was now adrift as I apologized for the mishap while scoping out the anchorage for an open spot to re-set the anchor.

Unfortunately my early morning sailing woes didn't end quite there. In my haste to unfurl the jib and get underway, I did a half-assed job of cleating off my anchor rode as my anchor rested just above the water line.

It wasn't like I'd be sailing far to re-set the hook. Besides I simply didn't want my anchor sliding about the deck as I easily sailed what was to have been a short distance.

Yet unbeknown est to me the anchor rode had been slipping all along and by now the anchor had snagged itself yet again onto another boat's anchor line and Blondie now definitely wasn't making any headway what-so-ever against the swift Key West Channel current.

And that's when I decided that I'd had enough of this "noise" and proceeded to hook up the gas tank to the outboard motor. I was now rather annoyed about my circumstances and most intent on demonstrating to that swift current that I was boss of it and that would be the end of that.

So after cranking up the outboard motor, I turned the throttle wide open in an effort to prove once and for all that Blondie would be plowing straight on through that swift current whether that channel liked it or not.

Well to my incredulous dismay, my boat still couldn't make any forward progress with or without the motor running. I hence proceeded to shut that motor down in an attempt to figure out whether I'd inadvertently run aground or something.

Yet running aground didn't make any sense either for there was plenty of depth in that anchorage and by now Blondie was slowly yet surely drifting yet again on into another boat that was quietly at anchor.

Only this time I'm intently being watched by a small dog up on deck. That small mutt couldn't have been much larger than your typical marina dock rat. Before long that mutt starts to barking its little yappy head off announcing to one and all in that quiet anchorage that I've somehow managed to screw-up yet again.

A moment or two later, the boat's captain emerges from down below to see what all the fuss was about. It's the same fellow, with the same unkempt stringy long hair I'd seen the previous day when I first sailed in.

It was he who quickly noted that my anchor line had slipped off the bow cleat and that my anchor had snagged onto one of his anchor lines.

And after retrieving my anchor, I apologized yet once again for the inconvenience that I had caused at that early hour of the morning.

His response was direct and to the point... "There's no such thing as one anchor in this channel" and with that he went on back down below along with his crappy little mutt.

I'm still somewhat amazed to this day that I didn't have a bunch of F-bombs hurled in my direction. I knew better than to set but one anchor out but heck, I'd only be anchoring out for one night before picking up a mooring ball in the morning.

So after purposely stowing my anchor in its proper place I unfurled the jib yet once again. And although it was still dark outside, daybreak would be occurring at any moment now so I elected to simply get on with it and motor-sail on over to the Garrison Bight Mooring Field.

Besides that, I certainly didn't want to be the object of ridicule and derision in that anchorage and preferred instead haul my ass on out of there under the cover of darkness.

But it was at that very moment when I suddenly heard a brief yet ear-piercing air-horn blast emanating from the U.S. Coast Guard station. That air-horn blast was promptly followed up by a spotlight lighting up my jib.

It goes without saying that I immediately took a hint and scrambled down inside the cabin to flip on the switch to my running lights and with that, the spot light was turned off.

In hindsight my anchor got what it deserved for causing me so much grief... it got bent beyond repair when I had opened up the throttle to my outboard motor thus putting one heck of a strain on it.

Within the hour I had sailed around Flemming Key and had picked up a mooring ball much to my relief and without further incident.

I later disposed of that bent anchor under the cover of darkness less anybody see me carting that thing around and wondering how it had gotten bent out of shape in the first place.

I certainly didn't want to have anybody yucking it up at my expense and I'm pretty sure that you would have done the same thing had you been in my place.



Google Map of Key West courtesy of Capngeo aboard "Happy Days".



I found myself a decent anchor lying around unclaimed in the Historic part of Key West. Now all I need is someone with a pick-up truck to help me cart it away.



Oil painting entitled "El Traje de Boda" by my mother at an art exhibition... awarded third place in the classical art category. Old San Juan, Puerto Rico.

I well remember when this painting was hardly more than a blank canvas resting on a large easel with but a charcoal outline of the dress lightly drawn on it... Off to the side could be found what seemed to me an old faded dress that could very well have been pulled out from the very bottom of a cedar chest and had now prominently re-emerged on a dress stand...

My initial unenthusiastic and unsolicited commentary of the subject at hand was readily dismissed with a "áh... tu eres un huevo sin sal" as my mom intently continued mixing her paint colors...

I was later to learn that what made this painting so challenging were the subtle changes in light contrasts found in the folds of the dress...

A reknowned French artist, invited to be a part of the judging panel, was later quoted to have stated, "Esta artista pinta con su alma"...

Turbulent Weather and an Unexpected Flare Sighting...

Contrary to prevailing perceptions, the weather here in the Keys isn't always nice and sunny. And when I say nice and sunny I mean bright blue skies, warm temperatures, gentle breezes and calm blue waters with lots of sunshine.

I'm talking about the kind of weather that will make an unabashed beer drinker want to set his beer aside and indulge in a few colorful mixed drinks with little umbrellas sticking out of them while listening to Jimmy Buffet and not give a rat's ass who might be looking on.

But no, the weather here in the Keys can indeed get lousy as so happened earlier this past week when a tropical storm system developed and sat offshore for days on end.

That weather system went on to dump copious amounts of rain throughout the Keys and put a huge damper on everybody's party spirits. (Ouch... sorry for the pun... I couldn't help myself.)

And so it was the other evening while dinghying back to my boat, with winds continuously gusting some twenty or so knots, that I happened to observe a flare go off in the distance and briefly light up the night sky.

That flare couldn't have been more than a mile away but with the weather being what it was, I elected to instead do the prudent thing and proceed on out to my boat and report the flare sighting to the US Coast Guard.

Along with the gusting winds there had been a good amount of chop in the water as well and the last thing that I needed that evening was for my dinky two-stroke outboard motor to run out of gas and then for me have to start rowing.

It was also one of those moments when I questioned my judgement of not having bothered to have a life jacket along with me. (Memo to self... store a life jacket in the dinghy at all times.)

So after motoring on out to my boat and then securing my dinghy and climbing aboard, I reached for my handheld VHF radio and hailed the US Coast Guard. I then proceeded to give the officer on duty a full account of the flare that I had seen just minutes earlier.

Well to my surprised bewilderment, that flare hadn't yet been reported in spite of the fact that it had certainly gone off in the vicinity of Wisteria Key,(aka Christmas Tree Island),and among a number of other boats at anchor.

Nevertheless after ten or so minutes later, the US Coast Guard came on the radio with an all bulletin alert requesting that all boaters "keep a sharp lookout for a male swimmer with dark complexion and dark hair and wearing blue-jean cutoffs" and to assist if at all possible.

Shortly afterwards a US Coast Guard Search and Rescue helicopter could be seen off in the distance hovering and circling Key West Channel for a good ninety minutes while the same Coast Guard officer would periodically come on the radio and repeat his request that all boaters in the vicinity "keep a sharp lookout".

Somehow I found the subsequent Coast Guard radio requests to be somewhat distressing after that helicopter eventually stopped hovering with its search light on. It then flew almost directly overhead on its way back to its base on Boca Chica, a nearby key.

Incidentally I somehow gotta believe that if a US Coast Guard radio operator wants to effectively communicate numbers, whether they be an emergency phone number or GPS coordinates, then he or she needs to slow down their delivery and clearly enunciate each number.

It's virtually impossible to comprehend what's being said while they rattle off the information as if announcing a NASCAR car race.

Having said that, thank you US Coast Guard for what you do.

The following news accounts of the incident were copy/pasted from the Keysnews website.

Sailboater went missing off Wisteria
BY TIMOTHY O'HARA Citizen Staff
tohara@keysnews.com

Authorities are searching for a man who reportedly dived off a sailboat near Wisteria Island Monday night.

Donald Roller, 45, last was seen swimming toward the island after he jumped off the Quest wearing jean shorts and no life jacket, his girlfriend told authorities.

Roller's girlfriend, who was in their dinghy beside the sailboat, was experiencing mechanical difficulties and was drifting. Roller reportedly dived into the water either to help her or to get in the dinghy, Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission Lt. Dave Dipre said.

The girlfriend notified the Coast Guard at 7:30 p.m.

Authorities searched Wisteria Island Monday night and used helicopters and several boats to continue searching the area Tuesday, Dipre said, adding they also "went boat to boat" searching for Roller.

Roller's 25-foot sailboat was anchored 100 yards north of Wisteria Island, which is in Key West Harbor, an area known for strong currents, Dipre said.

"Even in strong currents, there were plenty of boats in the area that he could have swam to," Dipre said.

The agency has passed the case to the Monroe County Sheriff's Office, which is treating the disappearance as a missing persons case, sheriff's spokeswoman Deputy Becky Herrin said.

The couple had bought the sailboat recently, Dipre said, and were arguing when he disappeared, according to the Coast Guard. It was unclear whether the argument was about the dinghy or something else.

Coast Guard Sector Key West asks anyone with information regarding Roller's whereabouts to call its operations center at 305-295-9700 or the sheriff's dispatch center at 305-289-2351.

***********************************************************************************

Body found floating
May be missing sailboat resident
BY ADAM LINHARDT Citizen Staff
alinhardt@keysnews.com

A body believed to be that of a missing live-aboard was found Wednesday by salvors who were rounding up boats and dinghies displaced after a waterspout ripped through Wisteria Island and the surrounding area late Tuesday.

The body, believed to be 42-year-old Donald Roller, was in about 5 feet of water on the Gulf side of the island, between it and Roller's sailboat, the Quest, said Capt. Arnaud Girard, who owns a private salvaging company. The body was about 60 feet from the Quest and 100 feet from where Roller's girlfriend told authorities she last saw him alive Monday night, Girard said.

"My mate, Jeff Sundwal, actually found the body and called me over," said Girard, who was in a separate boat.

After they pulled the body onto Girard's 23-foot salvage boat, the Magic Penny, the Coast Guard arrived and took the body ashore, said Coast Guard spokeswoman Lt. Kara Lavin.

The Monroe County medical examiner will conduct an autopsy to determine the cause of death, and the Monroe County Sheriff's Office is investigating the circumstances.

"It is currently a 'death investigation,' " sheriff's spokeswoman Deputy Becky Herrin said, adding there were no obvious signs of foul play on Roller's body. "We will have to see what the autopsy reveals."

Girard also said there was no obvious sign of trauma, only a cut on Roller's shoulder.

Roller's live-in girlfriend, Beverly Anderson, had reported him missing at 7:30 p.m. Monday, saying she saw him dive off their 25-foot sailboat as she drifted toward Wisteria Island in a dinghy with a dead engine, according to a sheriff's report.

Anderson told authorities she had left because she and Roller were arguing. Anderson initially couldn't get the dinghy engine started, so Roller got into the dinghy and started it for her, then got back on their boat, and she left, she told authorities. When the engine quit, Roller asked if she wanted him to swim over and help her, but she never saw him after he jumped into the water, she said.

Key West Harbor is known for its strong currents, but Girard said there was little movement Monday night between the high and low tides.

Authorities searched Wisteria Island Monday night and used helicopters and several boats to continue searching the area Tuesday, and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission went boat to boat searching for Roller.

Anderson has been arrested five times since April 2007, including twice on battery charges, according to Sheriff's Office records.

She was convicted of a felony for stabbing a man in the back three times with a paint scraper while her then-boyfriend held him down on Wisteria Island in May 2009, according to a Sheriff's Office report. The man, who Anderson accused of stealing her dive gear, suffered only a superficial cut near his shoulder blade.

In July 2010, a different boyfriend told authorities Anderson cut his wrist with a filet knife as he defended himself from being stabbed by her during an argument on a boat near Wisteria Island, according to a sheriff's report. Though he didn't want to press charges because she was on probation for the previous stabbing, authorities charged her with misdemeanor battery, instead of felony aggravated battery, but the charges later were dropped.

alinhardt@keysnews.com


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WEATHER NEWS (click to read more)
A large waterspout blew across Wisteria Island at 10 p.m. Tuesday, sending dinghies flying and causing some minor damage to boats in the area, but no one was injured, according to Arnaud Girard, a salvage company owner who was called to do cleanup in the area.

While working, Girard found the body of a man who jumped off his sailboat and last was seen swimming toward Wisteria Island Monday night.

The Lower Keys was under a flood warning until 12:45 p.m. Wednesday, according to the National Weather Service. At 11:30 a.m. Wednesday, the heaviest showers and thunderstorms were over the Middle and Upper keys, leaving the Lower Keys with only light rainfall.

tohara@keysnews.com


Christmas Tree Island, May 1989.
S/V BratCat

I Was Just Kidding!! ...

Ya'll remember a few postings back when I claimed to have taken on a new identity and of giving up the clean-shaven look in favor of that of your typical, disgruntled, mad-at-the-world, liveaboard sailor?

And that henceforward I'd make myself known as Willie-Jack, the unenviable character in a charming novel written by Billie Letts?

Well it was all a flat-out lie! I never had any intention of keeping that facial hair. Not only was it a gawd awful look but it also adversely affected my public demeanor as well.

That damned scraggly beard made me feel as if I were perpetually scowling at all those passing by. Well heck, I even found myself scowling at my own self whenever I might happen to look into a mirror.

So yeah, that facial crap came off after but a day or two of me sailing into Key West. For you see, I had already been working on a two day growth when I set sail from Miami and since it was just me out sailing by myself throughout the intercoastal, I simply elected not to bother shaving.

It was only later that I resolved not to shave until I had sailed on down to Key West. And with Hurricane Irene setting me back more than just a few days, I inadvertently took on an unkempt, menacing appearance.

Truth is I wouldn't want to sport a scraggly beard anymore than I would want to have a moronic tattoo inked somewhere on my body.

As far as I am concerned, not that anybody gives a rat's ass, tattoos are but an unsightly expression of personal insecurity. It also occurs to me that the more obese a person happens to be, whether they be male or female, then the more tattoos they are sure to be sporting.

And if you don't believe me, go check out your typical tourist strolling along Duval Street some afternoon and see for yourself.

So dude... stop persisting in showing off your moronic, zodiac tattoo because nobody gives a flip. Not only is your tattoo meaningless but any claims to the effect that it somehow empowers and enlightens you is all bullsh*t and is sure to make everyone's eyes glaze over.

Incidentally my lady-friend from up on Marco Island is fond of quoting the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffet song... "A tattoo is but a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling"...

So yeah, I shaved off that scraggly beard but a day or two after dropping anchor in Key West. Ain't no way I was going to go strolling about town looking like a disgruntled boater.







 

http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2011/09/willie-jack-my-new-and-improved-boater.html

Seeing the Lower Keys on My Hands and Knees...

It goes without saying that there is indeed a certain amount of risk involved in sailing and that one's safety is always on one's mind while underway... or at least some of the time as it is in my case.

All kinds of bad things can happen while on a boat whether it be weather related or otherwise.

Incessant lightning strikes can make a non-believer into a believer in but an instant...

Slipping and impaling one's heal onto a rusted keel bolt can leave one hobbling about for a week or more...

An errant boom crashing onto the side of one's head can leave permanent visions of Mike Tyson relentlessly pursuing after you...

... and so on.

So it was a bit of a surprise to me when I genuinely feared meeting an untimely demise the other day while off my boat no less.

For while seated at a local sports bar and while sipping on a few cold ones, I placed an order for some tortilla chips and salsa.

Well of course I ain'ts in Texas no more and that bland salsa needed a tad bit of heat and flavor so I reached over for a brand of hot sauce that I hadn't tasted before and then proceeded to stir some in.

I then sprinkled a few drops of that 357 Hot Sauce along with some salt upon my chips as well. Soon enough I'm chomping down on those chips and salsa when I'm suddenly feeling a bit of discomfort.

My mouth is suddenly aflame and my taste buds are screaming in pain. I'm now doing my best to neutralize that gawd-awful pain by chewing on a few dry chips.

Unfortunately my attempt to remove the hot sauce off of the remaining chips was not completely successful for some of that sauce had already soaked on through.

The result was even more intense pain only this time I'm feeling that pain all throughout my stomach.

I then call out to the ding-a-ling bartender and request some water and tell her that I'm in some serious pain while also emphatically telling her that serving that hot sauce at the bar was a reckless and stupid prank.

The water only exacerbates the intense stomach pain. Drinking that water has the effect of spreading that hot sauce all throughout my stomach and I'm now writhing in pain as I make my way to the men's room.

I see the manager while on my way to the men's room and utter to him that I'm not feeling well hoping that he takes a hint and follows me on in. He does not.

I feel no relief while in the stall. I'm now writhing in pain feeling as if my stomach is going to burst at any moment and no one would know otherwise. I'm wanting to collapse upon the floor and pass-out but instead laborously gather myself and stagger on back to the bar.

I feebly call out to the ding-a-ling bartender and mouth the words, "Call an ambulance" while leaning and supporting myself on a counter with a cash register.

The manager is upon me in but an instant. "Sir! I can not have you leaning up next to the cash register! ... You need to take a chair"! ...

He emphatically repeats himself. I peel myself away from the cash register and immediately collapse to my knees. I start crawling away from that register.

"Sir! Grab my arm! I cannot have you crawling around the bar!

"I can't I desperately reply".

I do somehow later manage after a few minutes to help myself to my feet and stagger to the bar.

I've got the manager in my face now and he's cutting loose with a barrage of questions...

"Where is the pain"? ... In my stomach I reply.

"Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions"? ... No I answer while writhing.

"Have you eaten any breakfast this morning"? ... Yes! I respond.

"Have you been drinking today?" ... Yes!, it's all on my bar tab... (All three draft beers with the third almost completely full.)

"When did you last have a bowel-movement"? (only that he used the S-word) ... This morning I reply.

"Have you ingested any illicit drugs today" ... No! I don't do drugs, I'm too old for that crap. It was the hot sauce I'm telling you!

"Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions"? ... I already told you no! It's the hot sauce that did me in!

I'm now being informed that an ambulance will soon be on its way but that I'd be incurring a $500 charge for the service. I'm asked but yet again whether or not I still wanted the ambulance service.

Thirty minutes or so have now transpired since eating those chips and the intense writhing pain has started to subside. I inform the manager to go ahead and cancel the requested service... and it wasn't because of the prospect of incurring a $500 ambulance charge either.

Soon thereafter while still seated on that barstool, I'm perspiring like never before. My face feels flushed and I'm constantly wiping off huge droplets of perspiration with paper napkins.

The bar owner now sets upon me and he too starts asking the same questions I'd already previously responded to. Once again I'm having to respond no as to whether or not I had any pre-existing medical conditions.

For the umpteenth time you little prick, I think to myself... "No. It was the fricking hot sauce that did me in. That crap doesn't belong on a bar counter."

I finally tell him... "I'm a solid citizen and I don't do drugs" and with that he turned and strode away without so much as uttering a kind word of sympathy for my discomfort.

Hey Ass-h*le... I was on the floor and writhing in pain for a compelling reason. Perhaps I ought to sue your scrawny-happy-ass.

So that dear readers is how I spent an hour or so of my time "Seeing the Lower Keys on My Hands and Knees".

I suppose that it could have been worse had I'd "Seen the Lower Keys while on my hands and knees" after consuming too much alcohol. But over-indulging simply isn't my thing since for one, it's too expensive, two- I'm too old for that crap and three- it's just not any fun to get stupid and then sick.

So I'll just leave it up to all the young, senseless tourists to over-indulge in any shot-drinking while I sip on a few cold beers.

Those tourists are free to do the Duval-Crawl as often as they like and "See the Lower Keys on their hands and knees" while puking their guts out for all I care.



Yep, The Sports Page... this be the place where I almost met my untimely demise.

Ran Out of Gas... Again...

Well it was bound to happen and it did indeed happen. Again I might add...

I ran out of fuel while motoring ashore in my dinghy the other day and had no viable option other than to pull out the oars and start rowing away.

One would think that I'd be a little more diligent in periodically checking the fuel level in my two-stroke outboard motor by now but that simply ain't the case.

Perhaps I'll just have to make me up a little sign and tape it up to my dinghy as a gentle reminder to check the fuel level before leaving the boat.

It will simply state, "Those Who Don't Remember the Past are Condemned to Repeat It"... a sign not unlike the one that the Reverend Jim Jones once had prominently on display at his Guyana Compound.

Yeah, that oughta do it.

(memo to self: no matter what, don't go drinking anybody else's kool-aid)

Car Shopping in Key West...

Hey... what can I say other than I did a little car shopping the other day and bought a Rolls off of some dude named Goldfinger.

Seems like he might have run into some recent financial difficulties with the economy in the tank and all because he sold the thing to me at a heavily discounted price.

I did check out some other cars before buying my Rolls but these all seemed to be in need of a little mechanical work. And since I'm not all that mechanically inclined, I took a pass on these.

Besides, I've got a new high-maintenance girlfriend and only the finest of cars will suit her for tooling around Key West.

But I won't be telling my lady-friend up on Marco Island about any of this... What she don't know won't hurt her.

And as she is often prone to say, "Don't Ask a Question Unless You Want To Hear the Answer." So I doubt whether she'll be asking about the stick of lipstick rolling about the floorboard of my new car.





My new high-maintenance girlfriend.

Piddling about Bahia Honda Before Setting Sail for Key West in the Morning...

My evening at the Bahia Honda State Park concluded with me gingerly walking about barefoot for reasons previously explained and with me taking in the sights. That quaint little Park was a delight as far as parks go and even had me somehow wishing that I'd had someone along to share in the experience.

The Park is somewhat renowned as a safe haven for butterflies of all things and I can assure you that there were quite a few butterflies fluttering about. Also scattered about that park were a number of placards all with a brief historical narrative of the place. I took my time reading these for lack of anything else to do at that moment but was nevertheless pleased that I had for some odd reason.

So after later snapping a few pictures with my cell phone camera, I headed on back to my dinghy and rowed on back to my boat. And with the sun just starting to set, I saw little reason not to pull out my conch shell from down below, climb back up on deck and then blow the hell out of it.

...especially since I hadn't blown that thing in a while and because I'm on a boat and that's what's expected of boaters and because I didn't have anything better to do at that particular moment.

So yeah man.. that was me blowing the hell out out of my conch shell for three long, loud blasts which undoubtedly could be heard all the way down to the Saddlebunch Keys and on up to Key Largo.

I'm sure that I put on quite a show for all those German tourists settling in for the evening out in the Park camp grounds. I'm also pretty sure that I gave them something to talk about with their friends and family once they get on back home.

I can hear it now... "Oh wow... our vacation was a delight... we even saw this guy sail his boat right underneath the old Flaggler Railroad Bridge and later blow a conch shell as the sun was setting... it was a most amazing spectacle"!

Then yet again, we're talking about easily-annoyed German tourists here and for all I know they may have even been contemplating reporting my ass to the Park Rangers for making a little noise. For sure it would have likely been that previously mentioned German tourist... the one with his big gut spilling out on over the top of his Speedos.



Oh gasp! What the heck was I thinking?
Me aboard my AMF 21, wearing Speedos which I have long since censored.
Isla Palominos, Puerto Rico

Living Aboard and Bored Out of My Mind...

Me thinks that the "Cruising Lifestyle" may perhaps be a tad overrated... Days of doing little more than piddling around the boat will turn into weeks and before you know it weeks of not having done much more than idling about will then turn into months and soon enough you've burned a year doing little more than contemplating an exit strategy off the boat.

Day-Sailing on the other hand is fun! What's not to like about taking the boat out for a day sail while sipping on cold beer and returning to the docks later in the day to tie the boat off, shower down, and head on home for some A/C, cooked food and a few ballgames on the TV.

And it's certainly not unusual for single live-aboard cruisers to start losing their mind after awhile. The mind starts to play tricks on you and you find yourself sticking out your tongue for no apparent reason. I'm hoping that this doesn't ever happen to me.













Me sailing my AMF 21 back in the day... East coast of Puerto Rico.