Christ of the Abyss

02/23/2021

Traveling from our anchorage in Largo Sound into downtown Key Largo was a piece of cake. If you like navigating Venice. Sarah gently moved this giant craft through canals that were smaller than city streets—which is saying something since the boat is about one city street wide.

The dockhand at the marina watched her do a 180 in order to pull up to our slip, and was stunned to learn it was her first time at such a stunt.

That wasn’t entirely true. We came off Hawk’s Channel, entered Key Largo at the wrong point, did a 180 and went back out again. We sometimes just need a couple of tries on this trip. Mastery cannot possibly be far off.

Reloaded with water, and ice, and relieved of garbage and waste, we are going to take another crack at Christ of the Abyss. The waters have calmed down nicely—Julie went for an early morning paddle board around the marina, and reported that the sea is as calm as Lake Jordan. I was glad to have a manatee sighting last night as we walked into town, we had an “aggregation” of five floating in the marina.

Birding at Dagny Johnson was a bust. Late in the day we saw a lone black vulture. Oh well. That’s the nature of the sport. This trip’s bird list is hovering at 43.

Key Largo is hard for me. This is where we had our last family vacation with my son Zafer. We had the whole family, including my brother Glen and Jess’s husband Dan tucked into a sprawling house on the sound side of Key Largo. It was an epic vacation, which included paddling amidst manatees off our dock, a harrowing paddle in the everglades, which ended in high winds after dark, and a hike along an alligator trail.

Coming into Key Largo by boat makes for a very different experience, but when all is said and done, familiar memories come back to me. Glen and I went to Dagny Johnson in search of a white crowned pigeon. We struck out on that trip too. Despite the absence of birding results, I love the place. It’s a busted real estate development that is being reclaimed by nature. The trails are abandoned streets, complete with manholes and buried electric infrastructure.

I remember Z smoking cigars at the tiki bar at our dock with his college roommate and his father, who came to dinner one night. As a recovering tobacco user, and lover of fine cigars, I remember holding the whole lot of them in disdain and wishing tobacco was not a part of the scene.

Key Largo is where my son Arlo beat Zafer in tennis for the first time. The three of us went out in the blazing sun for a round of “Canadian doubles.” When the results were inconclusive, I watched the two of them engage in a battle royale. Beating your big brother at anything is always earth shattering.

Last night we dined at Snook’s Bayside, six of us exploring fanciful cocktails, laughing and watching the sunset, just like we did as a family years ago. I didn’t realize we would be visiting Key Largo this trip. We were supposed to sail to The Bahamas.

Oh well. The waters are aquamarine; the sun is shining, each day our skills are building on this boat. Julie and John lost their son Boone after Zafer died. Today is Boone’s birthday. As we attempted to pump out our holding tanks—trying to get our “Responsible Septage” badge, we both noted how teenage boys revel in all things scatological. This pump off is for you, kids.

Now underway, in a mere 7 knots of wind, we intend to snorkel and spend another night cruising the Florida Keys, after which we will head to the Gulfstream to catch a ride back to Fort Lauderdale.

We hope.