Impulsive decisions for the better

I don’t quite know how to explain my emotions or thought processes, and without those it might be tough to understand my impulsive reactions, but I’ll try to paint a picture. First, my idea of a fun cruising local is pretty stuff under the water, a protected and safe anchorage without too many neighbors, and things to do on land with easy access. Thus far, the keys have shown none of this to me, so I’m a little upset thus far. My anchorage in Big Pine, was OK, but it was exposed for a mile in all directions and so shallow that a slight chop will make me bump bottom. Also, there was nothing to do on land, and there wasn’t land access other than walking through people’s back yards.
View Larger Map So today I sailed to Marathon with high hopes, and I suspect that’s the root of the problem. I slept very well last night, so I was ready for a bit of an adventure. I motored out of Big Pine and was pleasantly surprised that it would be an easy sail all the way to Marathon. I made phone calls and otherwise relaxed as I sailed by the 7 mile bridge that I’ve visited so many times. According to suggestions, I anchored outside and exposed so I could dinghy in and get a lay of the land, instead of taking the big boat in and maybe having troubles. I passed the fuel docks and then the free anchorage area on the right, for the most part filled with derelict boats whose Owners I would likely not like if I met them. Also, the anchorage was extremely tight, as the people who stay there don’t like to pay rent, and there are also the boats waiting for a mooring ball. There were plenty of balls, but every single one was occupied. When I got to the city marina that manages the mooring field I was informed that I’m number 10 on the list for a ball, and given the weather it’s unlikely that a bunch of cruisers will check out until after the front that is supposed to impact on Christmas. I was thinking to myself that it will be ok, I’ll just anchor in the free area. But then I was thinking, and do what? Well I want to go snorkeling in the reefs. That’s not going to happen in 20kt winds that are expected until after the 25th. I want to go shopping at a grocery store, well not really I provisioned well. All I’d ask for is a few more vegetables. Water at the marina? I’m going to buy fuel and I can get water at the same time, and I’ve done very well with water anyway. Other things on land I wanted to do: take the bus to Key West, which I’ve been to 100 times. Or I could eat at a restaurant, come on. What else is there that’s interested and will occupy me for 5 days? Fighting off boat bum neighbors? I can’t handle that level of people compression. I’ve never seen so many lived-on boats. When I visited from land I felt like it was some sort of boaters eden, but riding around in the dinghy I started to feel the utter lack of privacy. I can’t understand why you’d want to sit on a ball and live your daily life when you could be many other places and not be, crawling over people. My revulsion at the locale intensified once I saw exactly what I wanted to avoid in Key West, gaggles of old unwashed bearded men in beat up dinghys with nothing to do. Now there were certainly plenty of nice cruising boats just waiting for the right moment to hop to the Bahamas, but in the free anchorage the clientele like the boats looked rough. Perhaps after 7.5 years of living on a boat I have become uppity with a great disdain for those who just use a boat as a squatting pad instead of the lovely and graceful and slow conveyance that it is. Additionally, I had just sailed 5 hours, got my hopes up to think that I had come to nirvana only to be rudely awakened, and it’s hot down here. So, you get the idea. I said screw it, tank up and get out of dodge! I took the dinghy back to the big boat and started her up and raised anchor. I went into a fuel dock manned by a young guy about my age instead of the other docks with older men, because I knew I’d be treated better. I certainly wasn’t wrong! I filled up with 19 gallons of diesel, filled the water tank and 6 gallon jug, dropped of my plastic trash, and got my poop pumped out. The guy was super cool, and he came from Alabama near Destin to Marathon just because he figured it would be a cool place. He quickly bought a 28’ Oday sailboat and moved aboard, but has since become disenfranchised. He used to live in the free anchorage but said he couldn’t stand his alcoholic busybody old man neighbors, so he would rather pay 600$/mo keeping his boat at a dock. That says something when it’s half his paycheck. At this point I was still making up my mind, and asked him what there was fun to do. Bars, a few restaurants. I’m not interested. He was also cool because he didn’t charge me for the water, the poop pump out, or the trash, and yes they normally charge for all 3. I bit him adieu and gave him a good tip, then skedaddled over to Moser channel.
View Larger Map As I write this I’m ghosting along with barely any wind, but the forecast anticipates the wind will increase steadily tonight and be perfect to blow me to Port Charlotte. Also, Florida Bay is flat so the going is currently very easy. I hope that I can find entertainment at my next destination. It’s Monday night now, and I have about 70 hours until this nasty cold front gets to my neck of the woods. I think that’s more than plenty time to get from this part of Florida Bay up into Port Charlotte and find a protected anchorage. Even at my current very slow rate of speed at 2.7 kts I’ll still get there in time. Another thing I’d like to muse upon is the relative size of my world. In Destin, I had become accustomed to 10 hour days necessary to get to Panama City or Pensacola. Now that I’ve sailed a bit overnight, I’m thinking of 100-160 nmi in a 24 hour sailing day, and it really makes the world much smaller. For example, it would be a fast 24 hours or a slow 48 hours from here to Port Charlotte. That’s not a huge difference really. Anyway all is well, and I go in search of adventure. The only major unfortunate part is that I’m unlikely to get much sleep until I’m anchored up again.