As we anticipated, those big winds hit us full force on Friday. Forty- to 50-knot gusts. Contrary to what we anticipated, however, the west winds took a hard right at Bowditch Point and slammed us directly from the north, leaving us pretty much unprotected. We spent the afternoon hunkered down, narrowly avoiding injury from patting ourselves on the back for shrewdly purchasing oversized docklines. We ain’t saying we beat the devil, but we drank his beer for nothing. The biggest problem turned out to be getting the boys to shore without them being blown away like teeny tiny star-sized kite tails. At least it wasn’t raining or overly cold.
The wind died down overnight, and Saturday was gorgeous. Which meant drone time for Doug and beach time for everyone else.
The best part of Saturday, however, was dinner and a concert with Jerry and Deena in the Mahi Mahi concert hall. Jerry was the concert and Deena was the music stand. Both were wonderful.
No concert, but Sunday was even better from a weather perspective. We all piddled around and killed the day with nothing really noteworthy.
It’s looking more and more like we’ll be cruising down to Everglades City on Christmas. Assuming we make it to Marco Island tomorrow. We’re a bit concerned, however, because there aren’t any Christmas songs about Santa dodging alligators and pythons while delivering presents in the swamps.
Speaking of Holiday music—and related to our last post—we’ve had a bit of debate on the propriety of mocking Christmas songs. Doug thinks the juxtaposition of Baby Jesus and a talking snowman and such justifies a deeper discussion about the genre. Everyone else on the boat thinks Doug misses the entire point of the Christmas season and should just shut up and join the off-key family choir.
As a compromise, we offer the REK classic: