No offense to Nat King Cole, but roasted chestnuts are disgusting

Yesterday was everything Tuesday wasn’t.  The sky was gray all day.  We had to wait for bridges.  We hit choppy dolphinless water and boat wakes that tossed our decorated Christmas shrub to the floor.  But we forged ahead, since Fort Myers Beach is our port in the storm barreling towards us with predicted forty+ knot winds.

So we did what Dana would do from roughly May through January if given the option: crank up Christmas music.  If dissected, Christmas often is kind of dopey.  For example, likening a star to the tail of a kite makes no sense.  Doug looked up the Guinness World Record kite.  It was just over 10,000 square feet, which is huge for a kite.   We don’t know how big that kite’s tail was, but regardless it’s really really small for a star that’s at least 4.3 light years away and would not be visible to shepherds and drummer boys and such.  Nobody else on the boat, of course, cares much for Doug’s view of things.

Anyway, after an unexpected detour caused by our discovery of a low fixed bridge in the way, we rounded the bend down to Fort Myers.  Dana spotted an eagle on the perch where we usually see sea birds of one sort or another.

We also almost were run over by Big Daddy.  Not the real Big Daddy, of course, since he’s probably still docked at The Yards where he was the last person to see us as we started The Loop, but a fishing boat that stole his nickname.  Captained by some dude who had no courtesy for us as we docked in the wind and tide.

Fortunately we managed to get to Pink Shell anyway.

Mid-afternoon, we started smelling sulfur.  By about 6 it was unbearable.  Then the CO alarm started beeping.  Oh great, an off-gassing forward battery under our bed. (Which actually was a relief because if a crew member had been off-gassing that volume the rest of us would be in for some very long days and nights.)  But we have no car and no way to get another battery.  Fortunately the resort had a room available, so we schlepped dogs and stuff across the street.

The amazing part of the story relates to Diversified Yacht Services.  Doug called them and left a message at 7, well after business hours.  An hour later Eileen called back and promised to get a tech on it first thing.  Scott called back at about 8 this morning.  By 10, Chris had delivered a new battery, all for a cost of about half what West Marine charges for the same battery.  Those guys are our heroes.

Once the new battery was installed and the place aired out, we headed into the wind, which whipped up the sand and surf to the point we all were forced to toss our sandals into the air to see how far the wind would take them.

The start of the storm chased us into Misty Pearl for the day, although we ventured out long enough to enjoy dinner with Jerry and Deena aboard Mahi Mahi.  Our last meal with Mahi Mahi was at Bobby’s Fish Camp.

Tomorrow the brunt of the storm will hit.  Hopefully we’re fendered and tied sufficiently to avoid damage.  Unfortunately no go on the whole Christmas-in-Marathon thing.  Assuming we can get out of here on Monday, Santa will find us either on Marco Island or in the Everglades.  Like Tom Bodett, we’ll leave the lights on for him.