January 17 We pulled out of Calooza Bay Marina at 7:45 a.m. and found the water flat and the tide going our direction. Shortly the wind started to come up from the West and added to our helping influences. This is what I had hoped for for the last few days. Now I was moving faster than ever. Heather has been watching the GPS and telling me our ground speed regularly. Yesterday it reached a maximum of 2.6 knots per hour. Today it was 3.7 and I took a few powerful strokes and brought it up to 4.2! This still seems slow to me but with the load we are carrying I suppose it is as fast as we will ever go. This Garmin handheld GPS that brother Ned has loaned us for the trip has come in very handy. It also gives us a position we can plot on the chart which is very precise. I thought we might not really need it since we would always be within sight of shore but I was wrong. It is one of the more welcome pounds that we are carrying.

Crossing one of the channels at Windley Key, where we had planned to stop, a very large motor yacht (stink pot) was coming out and a couple of Jet skiers (wave riders) were heading in. We expected and got the brunt of their wakes. We are sure that the captain of the stink pot deliberately tried to swamp us. The wake came at us breaking and well above our heads. I turned broadside to it and held on waiting for the wash. Our hull rose and fell at least four feet as the two or three waves went by and only a quart or so of water came over the side. My oar handles pressed down hard against my knees as the blades sunk into the crests of the swells. If we had hit this head on we would surely have filled our boat.

By 11:00 a.m. we had already covered more miles that we had yesterday. I rowed for two 2 hour pieces without a stop and soon we were well past what we had decided was our destination. In spite of the lack of sleep I felt good and just kept swinging along. There developed about an 18" swell that followed the wind and occasionally I could pull at just the right time to get the boat to plane which felt especially good to someone that had been working against them yesterday! The sun blazed hot and no sign of the predicted cold front was visible. It was time to make hay and Heather urged me onward. Upper Matecombe Key and Plantation Key went by on my port side and finally at about 1:00 p.m. I started to look for a haven.

The entrance to Tavernier harbor was in sight. Heather had read about a waterfront hotel near the bridge at the entrance that looked reasonable. We would try to find it. We turned up into the last canal before the bridge and followed it to its end. There was no sign of a Tropic Vista motel but we were sitting in a narrow canal which ran behind a number of buildings with high walls giving us no hope of landing. I dug out my cell phone and called the number in the ad which Heather had handed me. We had passed by without seeing it. I guess not many people had approached them from this side so there was no attempt to identify themselves to the ocean travelers. The lady who answered my call sent her husband out to help us land and as we climbed out onto the stern of a dive boat tied up there a very large manatee came to check us out. He stayed partly under the boat while I tossed bags and cases to Heather standing on the dive boats deck. Then we tied the boat with oars shipped between two posts and along side the canal. It has ridden there well. A green heron took up watch sitting on the bow line which rises and falls as the boat yaws in and away from shore when the breeze pushes on it. It seems to enjoy the motion.

The Tropic Vista is not a place that one would pick out when driving by but it has met our needs beautifully. Within minutes of unpacking the winds turned from the north northwest and the temperature plummeted. We were given the first floor room closest to the boat and next to a small heated pool and restaurant. Though we had to pay as much for the room as our suite at Hawk’s Cay, we had come from mile marker 73 to mile marker 91 in a morning’s row on practically no sleep. We had no and looked for no options. Our bags in the room, Heather started working on getting the laptop connected via the cell phone which has frustrated us for more than half of our journey. A few phone calls to tech support people and she hit pay dirt. She was on line through the cell phone, receiving a pile of emails and being able to see the updates to the web site that Ethan had made since her last visit. The technology we have astounds me. Meanwhile, I napped!

With every article of clothing I have stinking with sweat and salt, we took a walk ¾ mile up the road to a Laundromat and sat there waiting for them to wash and dry. I am a believer that if everyone used communal Laundromats like this one, people would be less lonely and have more friends. We’d probably use much less water too. I sat in a tired stupor reading and ignoring the people coming and going.

We returned and decided to try the Tropical restaurant next door. It was fantastic and reasonable. Other than for a poor old man being talked to death by a loud and dominating wife, who probably ruined his meal, we enjoyed a delicious meal. I told Heather that if she ever gets to be like that woman she will be politely told to shut up. I will never get that old, period.

On returning we checked the position of the boat which had been masterfully moored, touching or bumping against nothing and competently guarded by a green heron from above and a manatee from below. Life was confirmed to be good and sleep was imminent.