As
we cruised down the Caloosahatchee River this Sunday afternoon, I was thankful
that Clay was proactive in securing in advance the only available space along
River's Edge Motel face dock. Further thankful that liveaboard Cliff readily
popped out of his boat to catch our lines, I heaved springlines, bow and stern
lines in his direction with an accurate right sidearm throw. Fire one, fire
two, fire three and four in order; I'm fearful one day a dock hand will be
caught unaware as to the force behind and accuracy of my throws, and thus I
have to remind myself to be gentle. Seriously!
Cliff
was quick to secure our lines and then to inform us of the Swamp Cabbage
Festival across the bridge toward town. "The LaBelle Swamp Cabbage
Festival is held every year on the last full weekend in February in LaBelle at
Barron Park. It is a local celebration (parade, queen, music, food,
entertainment) to honor the official state tree, the sabal (cabbage) palm, by
eating it. The heart of the cabbage palm is prepared into swamp cabbage or
fritters (each a southern Florida Cracker vegetable delicacy) and the focus of
the celebration. Immediately following the Saturday morning parade, all
crowd into the park and sample the southern "swamp" cuisines and
listen to live music at the main stage in the park. The festival usually
features around a 100 booths vending crafts and foods. Typically there
are armadillo races and a rodeo."
Clay
and I checked in then hustled over the bridge to experience our first-ever
Swamp Cabbage Festival. Our gregarious Rivers Edge innkeeper wasn't too
encouraging of the quality of the festival's foodstuffs (including the swamp
cabbage), so we declined purchase of various edibles at the park, but we had
fun perusing the vendor offerings. We returned to the boat where I began dinner
prep but was interrupted by a loud cackling noise outside the port door.
Opening the door to the noise, I found a group of gals posing on the dock with
our boat as backdrop, pretending the SaSea Sally was their boat. Female
companionship...I quickly made friends with these gals who were gathered for a
reunion. This was not to be our last encounter with the feisty group of
Michigan gals.
We
departed La Belle mid-morning on Monday, receiving hearty waves from the gals
gathered on the motel deck. Having been advised that they were pontoon cruising
the Lake this very afternoon, we were told to look for them. Which we did. As
SaSea Sally entered the canal entrance to Rowan Martin's Marina in Clewiston,
on the south boundary of the Lake, I happened to hear a rousing chorus of
"SaSea Sally! SaSea Sally!" and looked behind to see the pontoon
cruise past the canal opening with our reunion gals again waving frantically!
It was as much fun for me as for them.
With
the boat firmly tied to the face dock of Rowan Martin's by Captain Sam, Clay
and I opted to explore the marina grounds. The ship's store was well worth
exploring we had been told; the inside dining (snack bar format) and outside
dining (called Scotty's Tiki Bar and reminiscent of Alabama Jack's open air
Keysie ambiance) were serviced by the same kitchen using the same menu and drew
nightly crowds, sometimes featuring live music; heated swimming pool was a
disappointment with barely a 30' length (but there were two of them--wish
they'd been conjoined!). All in all, I was expecting the Ritz and got Bobby's
Fish Camp!
Returning
to the boat for a shower, I 'surfaced' as a new woman only to find that our
reunion group of gals was wining and dining at Scotty's Tiki Bar. Up I went to
join them, leaving Captain Clay in charge of the boat. What fun I had sharing a
bit of gaiety and laughter with the gals. They were receptive to a few boat
stories and inquisitive as to what it's like living on a boat. Boy did I give
them an earful! Not to be left out of the action, Clay appeared a bit later to
meet and greet.
Clay
and I later dined at Scotty's and marveled at the late night boat arrivals
backing down the narrow fairway to ease into a space for the night. Captain Sam
did not stack these boats in the way we would have done so. Glad for his
approach of front to back rather than back to front, we had obtained a prime
location with our early arrival.
Tuesday
morning Clay opted to take on fuel then to depart, taking the rim route around
Lake Okeechobee rather than through the middle of the Lake. My, but that boy is
inquisitive; he doesn't want to miss a thing! Of only note was a swing bridge
hand-cranked by the bridge tender. And, of course, more ash descended upon us.
Boat-washing duties on the horizon (for the Captain; this is one arena I've
avoided)!
Completing
the rim and entering the St. Lucie Canal, we knew we were in a pickle when the
Indiantown Marina harbormaster denied us overnight docking. Where to 'stay'
overnight? Clay: No worries; we'll find a place. Sal: Worried (or shall we say
'somewhat concerned'...there's a new Sally emerging); the narrow canal offered
little in the way of anchorages and precious few docking opportunities. We
forged ahead, knowing the last lock closed at 7 p.m., to open again at 7 a.m.
We forged ahead knowing that we didn't know where we were gonna stay.
As
our companion-traveler boat "Irish Miss" entered the last lock on the
St. Lucie Canal at 6:50 p.m.(sunset at 6:25 p.m.), Clay did not follow. What
the ? Instead, Clay selected the Port Lucie Lock Park's 15' finger docks (mind
you, that's 1/3 the length of our boat and crossways to current, etc.) and
said, as darkness descended, "We'll dock here." Right-O. Or is that
Right-Oh? Or Right-Zero? A charitable-minded fisherman named George offered to
help us. Poor George! None of the three of us knew what the heck we were
doing...15' fingers? Seriously? But we got 'er done. George went on his merry
(and very thankful) way; and Clay and I took nips-and-tucks to make sure the
boat wouldn't go anywhere overnight; it was a total guessing game which we
hoped, come morning, we'd win!
Morning
dawned much brighter in that we could see the fruits of our late-evening labor.
(I say 'fruits' but it was really mosquitoes/bugs and sweat by the time we
docked last evening! Lends new meaning to "Stand By Your Man"!!!!)
Clay and I circled through the Port Lucie Lock Park and to the terrain beyond
for our morning walk. Then Clay announced, "My favorite restaurant is just
around the corner." Really? I tho't we were in the middle of nowhere; and,
after 36 years of marriage, a favorite restaurant in FL? (I DID know we were in
FL.)
Back
to the boat, Clay and I each completed some housekeeping chores. At 11 a.m., we
reversed engines and backed out of the 15' finger dock. But I was ill-prepared
for the immediacy of the lock ahead. We managed. As our friend Steve says of a
good vs bad docking, "No one was hurt; it was a good docking."
Likewise, locking! We retraced our route to Sunset Bay Marina, Stuart, where
Clay met with friend Joe Apicella while, at the same time, giving me some 'me'
time (the most of which was spent doing laundry). Following Joe's departure, we
dressed for dinner and dined fashionably (what is fashionable dining?) on
Italian cuisine at Casa Bella. We love this little 'intimate' restaurant and
recommend it to anyone passing through Stuart!
We
departed Sunset Bay Marina Thursday morning in fierce winds which accompanied
us throught the day as we traveled toward Old Port Cove in North Palm Beach. My
radio message to OPC as we neared their harbor entrance was, "Maybe you
could assign us a face dock where we could just hang out until the winds temper
a bit." OPC's Susie was most encouraging that the dock hands would be at
slip 128 to assist. Clay expertly maneuvered SaSea Sally into the fairway while
I readied the lines and fenders. Team Logan at it again; we've had lotsa
practice! Job well done as Captain Clay eased the trawler into the slip, and
the dock hands caught the lines. Don't know that I've ever seen lines secured
so quickly as by these OPC fellas. I breathed a sigh of relief and a sincere
prayer of thanks to God. Mother Nature can be a formidable opponent!
As
we settle into routine at OPC for a few days, I bid you a fond farewell and
begin typing the experiences of the next segment of our journey; I'm a bit
behind.
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