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The Bahamas

Strange tales from the marina

Lindsay McRory
March 4, 1996

The warming weather has transformed the marina into a swarming little microcosm; this once sleepy little marina is chock-full of people and boats. It seems there is always something going on, some of it on the more psychotic side of things.

Kita and Wesley have built a relationship with a couple of manatees. They stop by our dock once a day or so. Kita and Wesley get out the hose and the scrub brush. They take turns feeding them water and scrubbing their backs. It's a lot of fun for everyone, including the manatees.

Dolphins and manatees are always welcome visitors. And then this week an alligator decided to hang around the sea wall for a bit, to check out the action. Well, there goes the neighborhood. This means we've got a few new rules for the kids, but we're not too concerned. If an alligator decides to take up a more permanent residence, the marina relocates them. I suspect they get relocated to the local fish shop, where for $6.50 a pound they will fillet them to your specifications.

We've met our first cruising celebrities in Florida: porn stars. A husband-wife or boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I don't know; we don't ask questions. Our video library doesn't include any of their work. We don't have anything from that part of the color spectrum, so we did not recognize them.

But word spread quickly, and I thought about sneaking a photo with the digital camera to send off to the guys at work. But before I could, the police came and escorted the actor away. Dock talk explanations ranged from filming without a permit to an escalated domestic quarrel. The actress and the boat are still here. She seems to be getting a lot of consoling from other guys around here. I should see if they need any help ... on second thought, maybe not.

The northeast winds are not so frequent, nor so ferocious. Last night they decided to kick up for a couple of hours. It was the usual rocking and rolling. We did the typical line checks and gear checks. This morning, Denise took a look outside and was surprised to see a 34-foot sailboat sunk at dock. Not listing or low on the water line, but sunk.

It's tempting to buy a lawn chair and sit on the dock all day drinking spiked punch, watching as these type of stories unfold through the day. But every few hours, Denise and I say, "It's time to move on." Our last equipment order is due to arrive tomorrow. I suspect another week will be required to install. And our to-do list of projects and plans for after leaving the confines of the marina continues to grow, which is OK with me. We're looking forward to it.





Copyright © 1996 Starwave Corporation.