Boca Grande Breeze by Ed Robinson

Author:Ed Robinson [Robinson, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leap of Faith Publications
Published: 2019-10-23T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

I had a nice easy ride in the Gulf the next day. While several miles offshore, I cut loose the fully deflated dinghy and set it adrift. It was no good to me any longer. North of the Ten Thousand Islands but south of Cape Romano lies Gullivan Bay. Coon Key sits in the middle and marks the entrance to the channel leading into Goodland. The entire town consists of two marinas and several restaurants. During the heat of summer, most everything is closed. It was past Labor Day now, so I expected the sleepy little village to be coming to life soon.

Calusa Island Marina has a tight inner harbor for small boats and visitors. The long-term vessels are tied to piers that stick out into the river. I didn’t like the close quarters inside, but I needed to get to the fuel dock. I hailed them on the radio to let them know I was coming in. They sent a man down to help with lines. With no wind and no current, I docked without difficulty.

“Fill her up,” I said. “I need a pump-out and some water, too, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, man,” the guy said. “Will you be staying with us overnight?”

“If you’ve got a spot for me.”

“Give me your name, and I’ll go see where the dockmaster wants to put you,” he said.

“Clay Mills,” I told him. “Fifty-four feet.”

“Watch that hose for me,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

I grabbed the water hose while he was gone and filled up my water tanks. I put a bag of trash in the garbage can too. He came back before the diesel tanks were full.

“One night stay, he wants to put you on the wall in here,” he said. “If you stay longer, you’ll go outside with the other big boats.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Do you have a courtesy car so I can get groceries?”

“We don’t,” he said. “But I’m sure someone here will give you a ride or even lend you a car.”

“All right,” I said. “Give me a couple of days then. I’m out of everything.”

“Where you coming in from?”

“The Keys,” I said.

There was no point in telling him I’d been holed up in the Everglades for a month. That would only raise suspicion.

“Where you headed?” he asked.

“North I guess,” I said. “Just bouncing around. Doing a little exploring.”

“We get people like that,” he said. “But not in nice yachts like this one.”

“I haven’t had it long,” I said. “But I’m enjoying it.”

“I bet you are,” he said.

It took over eleven hundred gallons to get the tanks full. Another thirty-five hundred dollars left the cruising kitty. Sooner or later, I would have to find a place to sit still where I could still get supplies. I liked the Boca Grande Marina, but they did not allow you to live aboard. Groceries and beer were expensive in town, and I didn’t have a car to go off the island to shop. I didn’t have a small boat anymore either.

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