Conditions: East wind, 85 & sunny
Location: Key Biscayne (part 2)
It took Dad and I awhile to gather all of our provisions and get off the dock at Key Largo this morning. Consequently, we sailed into the night and arrived in Key Biscayne around 8pm. The moon was full or almost full and lit up the way for us. It was beautiful. Since we had been through the Florida Straits on our way down to Key Largo we weren't too nervous traveling into No Name Harbor in the dark. What we were nervous about was the amount of room available to anchor, it being a holiday weekend and the Miami Boat Show weekend as well. I stood on the bow as we came closer to shore, trying to count the masts in the sky above the tree line. Luckily we needn't have worried. I counted three masts and when we got inside the inlet there were five sailboats and a handful of small powerboats. After pointing Dad towards the perfect spot to anchor we set it like two old pros, both of us thanked the stars for making it so easy. As it turned out it was a little early to thank the stars. Two hours later I was still up, unable to sleep, when I heard the roaring of an engine pass by our portholes. I told Dad to get up before jumping up the forward hatch. While there was room for us and the sailboat anchored next to us to swing there was little room for a large boat to travel in between us. There just wasn't enough room for a boat to pass us and make the turn around next boat before he ran into the harbor wall, unless he took a shortcut over our anchor line, which is exactly what happened. I made it to the foredeck before his engine stalled, just in time for me to see our line disappear under his hull. I shouted to him to tell him he was over our line but he only responded "Yeah, someone just ran over mine." That's when his engine stalled as our line wrapped around his prop. When Dad met me on the bow I was holding onto his stern rail, trying my utmost to keep him from backing onto us. In the mean time the bow of the offending boat was swinging toward the sailboat anchored next to us, slamming his bow sprit into the other guys hull. No one was amused, the dude clearly had had one too many. Dad and I sorted our situation out pretty quickly after that. If we tried to raft up with the boat on our anchor we both would probably drag into the mangroves. We had little choice but to ditch the anchor line and set our spare anchor on the other side of the harbor, as far away from this guy as possible. The boat owner said he would swim down and untangle our anchor in the morning for us but it was hard to get a sound night sleep after that.
In the morning Dad and I retrieved our anchor from 'the guy' and he gifted us a bottle of wine for all the trouble he caused. Even though it wasn't the ideal night we still put it in the win bracket. Dad then wasted no time before calling his old college buddy who was in town for the boat show. Dad and Carlos met playing soccer together in college. Carlos now owns a marina and restaurant in Cancun and brokers boats for a few of his customers, which is why he is in Miami for the boat show. Dad and I took the public transportation system into town, which was shockingly pretty good. The buses into Miami run every half hour and once inside the city there is a free sky rail that will take you almost anywhere you want to go. We met Carlos at the indoor venue of the boat show, housing the powerboats and most of the commercial stands. Dad and Carlos hadn't seen each other in around thirty years but they picked up right where they left off. The three of us sat at a table for hours and I listened to them reminisce and fill each other in on what had happened in their lives since they left college. It was strange and scary to hear their life stories begin right after college, basically exactly where I am at in my life. After two rum and cokes and more than two hours of chatting Carlos had to get back to his customers and promised to meet us at the show tomorrow. Dad and I took a tour around the facility. The show had everything you could imagine wanting on a boat, and also I lot of stuff that you flat out wouldn't want on your boat. The event rooms showcased anchors, solar power, fishing lures, huge bronze fish to put on your boat's mantle, thousands of small powerboats, but most notably emergency life rafts blown up on display. The rafts were big, orange circular inflatables with tents over the top to protect sailors from the elements. The rafts were supported on stilts so that they were eye level with the passing consumers. As we walked by these rafts two little girls played around the boats. I dared Dad to tell them that the rafts were moon bounces. The girl's eyes lit up as he told her and she glanced over her shoulder toward the raft. She then made a beeline for it, ditching her shoes on the path and climbing inside. The salesman nearly lost his cool as he told her that it was not a toy and for god sake don't jump on it. Dad and I got out of there as fast as we could. We stopped at
a Cuban place right on the water for dinner. We had the best food there and fell in love with "Cuban coffee," which was basically really sweet espresso. We got back to the boat very late, since we had to take the bus and crashed into our bunks.
Today we ventured to the "All Sail" part of the Miami boat show with Carlos. While there were a few gorgeous monohulls, the catamarans were clearly the main event here. They were huge, flashy, and sometimes straight gaudy with dolphins painted on the deck and chandeliers adorning the outdoor space below the raised cockpit. Most of the boats here were floating palaces in which the owners competed to outdo each other. Our favorite boat of the day was a Morris 42. The boat's interior was sculpted out, with no doors or barriers from space to space with the exception of the head. She was probably the smallest boat we were on all day. It was great to walk around the boats with Carlos. The boat brokers rarely paid attention to any of the boat borders unless they were another boat broker, so we got the royal treatment. Later we made our way to South Beach to visit the large powerboat brokers. If we thought the catamarans were flashy at the last venue it was nothing in comparison with the power boats. Usually a brand had its own dock to itself, enabling to model their entire fleet in one spot. Some of the brands went all out and erected floating offices at the end of their piers, encased in glass and furnished with comfortable sofas and modern parlor decor. Models stood at the transom of each boat, welcoming guests onto the yachts. It was extravagant but very well done. It made you feel like if you bought one of these boats you were in a club of elite. However if you need a crew for your pleasure boat, then you're missing the point of owning a boat entirely.
After the festivities were finally over we went out to dinner with Carlos and his family. Carlos' middle daughter, Britney lives in Miami and told me all about the lifestyle. Although as an outsider it seems that its all high heels, porsche's, and designer dresses but there is actually a large counter culture of bike riders, park hikers, paddle boarders, surfers, and sailors. It definitely gave me hope that Miami could be an attractive place to live.
Dad and I woke up today planning on going to the customs office today but then realized that it was a national holiday and they would be closed. Instead we posted up in a Starbucks and abused their free internet for awhile. Then we went to the Winn Dixie on the island to restock our reserves for our upcoming trip north to West Palm. When we got back to relax we watched a medium sized barge start to pull into the harbor. It pulled up to the wall and docked for the night. Dad and I talked about all the possible reasons for why they were here. There was no marina, meaning that there was no fuel. There was mercifully a pump-out station but the barge had a port-a-potty on deck. Can you pump out a port-a-potty we wondered? Maybe they came to dredge the harbor but they seemingly had little to no equipment for a task like that. We didn't find out until the next morning why they had arrived. An old fishing boat was towed by a small powerboat up to the barge at around 8am. The powerboat looked brand new, while the fishing boat looked like it could sink any minute. The paint was peeling off of the sides, the windows were taped up, etc. Then the cameras began rolling. They were filming a movie. By watching closely Dad and I were able to discover most of the plot - well at least the important parts. It began... Once upon a time in the Gulf of Mexico in the early 70s an overloaded ferry of Central Americans attempted a long hot crossing. Two male passengers got into a dispute and one of them stabs the other and throws his body overboard. Later a helicopter, pretending to be the coast guard, went in search for 'the body.' It was pretty cool but we never discovered the name of the film. The murder wasn't the only excitement of the day, after we got back from the customs office I went paddle boarding. I paddled out of the harbor and down the coast toward the lighthouse and the atlantic ocean. It was going well, until I got out of the lee of the land and felt the current pick up under the board and the wind start pushing me faster. I decided not to risk getting to close to the point where it turned from bay into ocean. I turned the board around and for about thirty seconds I was in a
full panic. I was paddling as fast and as hard as I could and was getting no where. People started gathering at the beach, presumably staring at the stupid girl that was in the fight of her life wondering at what point they should call the coast guard. I thought to myself 'how long can I struggle against this tide before throwing down my paddle and waving my arms screaming for help.' But then I made a plan. Plan A was to see if I could ride sideways to the current to shore before I was swept past it. Plan B was to paddle with the current and away from shore toward the shallow flats that kept a few kite surfers and wake boarders entertained, maybe I could hitch a ride but it never came to that. Inch by inch I made it closer to shore and was able to at least hide from the wind and battle only against the current. When I got back to the boat I felt like the hulk was attempting to emerge out of my shoulder blades but we already had the board out and the weather was still beautiful two hours before sunset so Dad and I went windsurfing. I finally was able to successfully windsurf down wind, something I had been struggling to accomplish. It took all day and I told Dad a few times that his coaching was crap but I eventually abandoned all instruction and figured it out for myself in classic teenager style. Dad took a turn surfing as well. The whole harbor was cheering us on and offering advice. Tomorrow we leave for Fort Lauderdale, a stop on the way to West Palm aka last stop before on to the Bahamas.
