One last sunset in Key Largo, after a fun weekend in St. Petersburg with some of Shannon’s friends and their parents. One last Pilothouse pelican photo.
Travel for Monday looked to be on the acceptable side of the edge, but just barely. So we took off about as early as the tide would allow. Here’s the trip in less than two minutes.
Mostly it was just stomach-churning ups and downs. The spray over the pilothouse drove us off the flybridge pretty quickly. If it’s always like this on the approach to Miami, we’re glad we don’t run cocaine for Tony Montana’s cartel, because we’d quickly have to quit and then face the less unpleasant consequences.
But we made it to Miami. Crockett and Tubbs. Open collars and gold chains. Beautiful people. Elian Gonzalez (but only for a hot minute). The scene of that fatal shooting that sent Raylan Givins back to Kentucky. Spanish that Mallory and Shannon might not recognize despite 12+ years studying the Arizona parochial school version.
If there was any remaining question about whether we’re in Kansas, Toto, the locals using VHF channel 16 answered it in the negative. “Where’d you get your license? Reciprocal headings are port to port fuckface.” Stay classy Miami.
Time to start dodging cruise ships again and Atlantic Ocean seagulls again.
At Pilothouse, Misty Pearl was one of the big boats. At Sunset Harbour, she’s one of the smallest. We figure there’s close to a billion-dollars worth of boats in here. Many of these big suckers have a crew in logowear out cleaning and polishing and making us look lazy. The joke’s on them, however, since their boats can’t do the Loop.
The marina is part of a private yacht club, but when members are away they’ll rent slips to transients like us. Private club means great facilities. Miami Beach hip lighting. Very swanky.
We initially planned to go on up to Fort Lauderdale today. It was a bit stormy, however, and after yesterday we decided to take a break. Maybe we’ll leave Thursday and meet Deb and Tom on Friday. Or maybe we’ll stay until Friday and then they can cruise up with us. Friday looks to be a great day to travel.
Although we don’t drink Bombay Gin, the sun indeed was setting on us when we reached Miami Beach so here’s what appears to be a 70s version of the 80s REK classic bluegrass ballad that kind of addresses the ups and downs of the local drug trade, among other things, but Sherry wins in the end.