When we pulled into Largo – I am certain you’ll notice how we pick up the local lingo; it was no longer “Key Largo” to us, but “Largo” – we met Candy, the dock master. Candy was probably in her late forties and was very attractive even though she had spent some time – well, okay, maybe a lot of time – in the sun. (Ann thinks she might have been in her early fifties. Now, I know Candy is not going to read this, but my inclination is, and always will be, to under-, rather than over-, estimate a woman’s age. Lord, I hope she wasn’t in her thirties.) The marina was in kind of a “u-shape,” with her office on the opposite side from us, yet she walked the whole marina several times each day. She had bundles of energy and seemed to be everywhere giving people advice and keeping the marina in top shape. As we got to know her over the five days we were there, we found that she had been the dock master for seven years and lived with her husband on a sailboat. She had cruised all the local waters and gave us excellent advice on cutting inside to the AICW (Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway – about which, more later). She also pointed out the local attractions, most of which were in the resort area, told us the best swimming pools to use (we had access to three, one each from the Holiday Inn, the Marriot and Marina del Mar), and let us know about the groceries available at the local Dollar Store and Walgreens. We appreciated all the advice and took advantage of most of it.
| This pelican stayed in the same place, watching us dock, throufhout the entire process. |
Before we did any of that, though, we had to wash the boat. There was salt everywhere. You would expect it, of course, on the foredeck, the handrails and the windshield. But there was salt on the aft deck, on the flybridge, and under the side deck overhangs. There was salt on the screen of the chart plotter, in the pilothouse and on the dingy. It was everywhere. We also learned that, with significant seas, some of our galley windows leaked, so there was even salt in the galley. We cleaned for about three hours and, I swear, we must have removed at least 100 pounds of salt. I would bet, though, that even after that there was still twenty or thirty pounds of salt left. In fact, for the next several days, we would feel salt all over our hands if we ran them over certain parts of the boat. Rain, rain, we need a good old fashioned gulley washer!
Of course if we would have had a gulley washer, business would have been even worse for the locals. Key Largo, at least the place where we were staying, is very dependent on the tourist trade. It was apparent that we were there during the off-season. There were dive boats, snorkeling adventures and fishing excursions all just waiting for customers, but no one was going out. We were told that the season would start to pick up after Christmas and would hit full stride in February or so, then would continue throughout the summer. In fact, the one Sunday we were there I went to the bar at Coconuts to watch some football. In addition to Kevin, the bartender, only five other folks showed up for any part of the afternoon. Now if you are a sports bar aficionado or a football fan you know how unusual that is. Anyway, since the game wasn’t really that good I turned my attention to my fellow revelers. Probably the most interesting was Tim the Irishman who was there not to watch football – he neither knew nor understood the game – but to drink beer and interact with Americans. He used to go to the Caribbean, but in recent years had started coming to Florida and the Keys. He stayed for a couple of weeks, then headed home. I am guessing he also liked to fish or dive or snorkel because there really wasn’t much else to do and I didn’t see him the rest of the week. Kevin was also interesting. His parents had both been professors at Virginia Commonwealth University – the school from which Lisa graduated. I know his mother taught finance but I never found out what his father taught.
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