With Christmas over, we dreamed of a white lighthouse

We’d hoped to get to Marathon before the weekend, but the wind and waves refused to cooperate.  Dana said Saturday looked good.  Sunrise at 7 meant we could slip lines at about 6:45.  No worries.  Should get to Faro Blanco before dark.

Saturday morning the alarm popped at 5:45.  Fog.  Fog?  FOG?  WTF? 

We haven’t seen fog for what seems like months, and it picks this morning?  That’s some BS right there.  The only thing thicker than the fog was the mosquito swarm.  Apparently we were the only food source up before dawn.  Word got around.  

However, we had a ten-hour day and only about ten hours of daylight.  So off we went, noting that nine months ago this fog—particularly coupled with the narrow and shallow and curvy channel—would’ve paralyzed us into complete submission.  We might’ve stayed all winter.

But now, being the nearly-competent mariners that we’ve become, we made it out to the Gulf safely just as the fog dissipated.   In time to see the flock of white pelicans on what might not be named Pelican Island but should be.

From there, we all enjoyed smooth boating, despite the clouds that suggested storms that never really arrived.

The straight line down to Marathon took us about 12 miles offshore.  But in only about fifteen feet of water.  Perspective is a funny thing.  Fifteen feet seems pretty shallow when miles offshore, but fifteen feet on the Trent-Severn would’ve felt like cruising along the Marianas Trench.  Also, we’re as close to Cuba as we are to Marco Island, our next to last stop before now.  Crazy.

Our dear friend Janet suggested that we need to post photos of Misty Pearl’s interior.   Here’s the cabin where we napped during the cruise.  Not at the same time, of course.  Someone had to steer.

Maybe we’ll add photos as things are presentable.  Anyway, we napped here.  The girls napped and argued on what Robin (Crossroads) calls the fiberglass beach, before and after posing for New Year’s Card photos.

All in all, a very nice cruising day.

When we pulled away from The Yards with Big Daddy waving us off over seven months ago, reaching Marathon seemed like it would be a huge accomplishment.  Now we’re here.  And in fact, it feels like a huge accomplishment.

Faro Blanco probably will be our home until the end of February.  Unless we change our minds, which seems to happen with regularity.  That also probably means no blog posts for a bit.  The girls leave us this week, which is sad.  Nobody wants a daily update about nothing remotely interesting.  We’ll still keep some notes and take some pictures, of course, and sprinkle them in from time to time so we can preserve memories.

Unless we decide to cruise down to Stock Island this will be as far south as the Loop takes us.  Which means we’ve hit all four primary compass points.  Which doesn’t mean much, but it’s something.

Happy New Year everybody.