Joanna and I had just arrived in Daytona, FL, on the northern leg of an ICW winter cruise. We were attempting to anchor Cross Roads, our Irwin 38, just north of the downtown bridges in a postage stamp anchorage we like. We had already made one unsuccessful attempt at getting the hook down. Now we were circling, tired, and in complete disagreement about exactly where to let go for a second try.
A nearby boater would have correctly assumed from our intense banter that we were having an argument. I hasten to add that this is a good thing, since recent research says that couples who argue live longer. It has something to do with not bottling up your emotions. I tell Joanna that our life spans are being extended by what we now call “Life Extending Discussions” or “LED’s”.
This evening’s LED ends when Joanna correctly calls the second drop and our anchor set is a winner. I know we are in the proper location when I see the distinct landmark overlooking this site: The Daytona Blimp. Yes, I said blimp. You see, random photos taken of the anchorage during a previous visit produced a surprise. A snapshot of the ICW’s east bank included a water tower half-hidden behind two high-rise condos. The tower looked exactly like a blimp poking its nose out from between the buildings. We so enjoyed the picture that I posted it on our trip website maintained for family, friends and former students back home.
Now I sat sipping a glass of wine and admiring our blimp in the waning daylight. I imagined it suddenly rising free and floating away in the evening sky. Joanna says I have an active imagination. I admit to being a bit of a dreamer, but isn’t that a requirement for people in this sailing business? I guess my mermaid story fairly illustrates her point. I’ll tell you about it, but you gotta promise not to spread it around, OK?
Two of my former elementary students, Zack and Ronnie, had written to me suggesting I might see a mermaid on our trip. I didn’t want to disappoint these wonderful 10 year olds, so I had diligently maintained a lookout throughout our voyage. I was rewarded south of Daytona at about 2:00 in the afternoon on a sunny and hot day. (Perhaps a little too hot.) The admiral and I were passing through a canal when I saw something swimming underwater nearby. It was human-like and had fins!
I called out and waved, but “she” did not come to the surface. I had an overwhelming urge to dive in and say hello, but Joanna reminded me from the helm that we were moving and stopping was not in her plans at that moment. She suggested it might be time for me to go below and have a cold drink. I dutifully grabbed a soda from the fridge and returned ready to begin an LED about what I had seen. Joanna asserted that it was a manatee and that seemed to make sense. A faint but knowing smile appeared on her lips and I was forced to agree.
Now back at the Daytona anchorage, we finished our sundowners, bid our flying friend good evening, and went below for dinner. Later we did some trip planning and web surfing, then turned in to rest up for an early morning departure.
I tend to sleep lightly when we are on the hook, sort of in a dream state, ready to respond quickly when our anchor alarm announces my deficiencies. That night in the depths of darkness I was awakened from dreams of dirigibles not by any alarm, but instead by a ripping sound followed by a thump on deck.
My eyes snapped open and I sat up instantly awake. I recognized the ripping sound as the zipper on our cockpit dodger. Dark thoughts invaded my head and adrenalin began to surge in my body. I’d read about boats being boarded at anchor in the middle of the night, but this wasn’t supposed to happen in the good old USA, was it?
I stumbled out of bed and rushed toward the companionway ladder in my boxer shorts, soundly whacking my skull on a bulkhead in my haste. As the Milky Way Galaxy magically appeared before my eyes, I fumbled for a flashlight with my right hand and rubbed my stinging noggin with my left. I groped toward the companionway ladder in fading starlight like an aging prize fighter in the late rounds. My throbbing brain wondered why we had recently given up owning large dogs and switched to cats. BJ and Scamper could do little to stifle this intruder.
My heart beat like a tom-tom as I stealthily climbed the companionway ladder, hoping to surprise the intruder and scare him off. I poked my head out and yelled “HEY!” as I switched on my flashlight in a vain attempt to blind the aggressor a la Jimmy Stewart in “Rear Window”.
I cringed as a ball of fur scooted by me headed below. Prepared for the worst, my flashlight beam swept over what proved to be an empty cockpit and deck. This left me puzzled but breathing much easier. I sat down to slow my racing pulse and contemplate the flood of events.
I assumed the persona of that great detective from a bygone era, Charlie Chan. Mr. Chan had the unique ability to solve a case in almost no time at all, usually aided by one of his overzealous sons. A humble investigation of the clues revealed the cockpit zipper on our dodger had indeed been pulled open, but by who? Since Scamper enjoyed staying up late to chase bugs in the cockpit and had been the racing ball of fur earlier, I was confident that she had been at the scene of the crime. I quickly deduced that she must have gotten tangled in the little rope pull attached to the zipper. The thump that followed had been her disengaging and landing on the cockpit floor, abruptly awakening her master.
Satisfied that the case was solved, I returned to my bunk fingering the growing lump on my head. I slipped back under the covers as Joanna inquired as to what was going on. I briefly explained what had happened. Then announced as I lay my head gingerly on the pillow, “Yes, Charlie Chan has deftly solved another case.”
“You sounded more like #3 Son to me with all that bumping and stumbling.” Although I couldn’t see the smile on her face in the dark, I knew it was there.
A life extending discussion followed…
My friends, the next time you are in Daytona, look for the blimp on the east bank just north of the bridges. When you spot it, drop the hook. You’ll be glad you did. Oh... and be prepared to repel boarders.
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