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| The play ground of Independent Boat Yard |
As
we are leaving the dock on Independent boat yard I make a recall of
our last three days in the milky and gelatinous waters of the lagoon.
The pollution shows up better around the mangroves where if one
stares at it for too long, it seems like some king of monster will
surface. The no-see-ums and mosquitoes are by far the biggest
population of wild life in the area, and they feed right at dusk. By
that time we were all sheltered inside with screens on the port
lights and hatches. But still, a few would find their way in and
stick their teeth on us. "Just mind blowing".
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| The milky water of the lagoon |
I
always thought that Compass Point Marina was a funky place, but
Independence Boat Yard got the gold medal on the Olympics of
funkiness. We like the docks there though, but I dared to walk on
that old wood and it took me a 15 minute surgery to get that splinter
off my toe. The boats on the slips don't go out very often. Their
owners are constantly working to put the dream together. We talked to
a guy one night for a little bit and his conversations went on and on
about his gloom and doom idea of the world. We had just met him and I
thought we were going to have a fight. And that, dear friends, has
been going on a lot this season with a lot of people that we had just
meet!
The
happening place in the yard is the bar-restaurant. Every day at 5 o'
clock the creatures of the lagoon meet there to have several drinks.
Sometimes we were coming back from swimming, half pass five and the
volume of the voices has gone up and crazy. We stopped by one night
to buy some ice and the alcohol was yelling "Fs" up loud.
On the wall of the bar there is a white flag with funky little guys
dancing and letters across reading: become a lagoonie. My anxiety
increased to a 100 %.
In
the mornings, after the no-see-ums ease up a little, we go for a walk
on the dock, just to see what live-a-boards have come up with.
Floating houses tied to D and C dock with air conditioning, propane
tank out side, attic, you name it. I think pictures show better than
words.
As
we finally pulled away from the slip I started to feel less
claustrophobic. "I don't want to be another creature of the
lagoon. I'm a sailor, I belong with the ocean". Then I reminded Jim,
who was loving the ambiance, that phrase he repeats all the time:
"Men and boats rotten at the dock". But not this boat, Jim,
not this boat. We headed south, to Christmas Cove, two miles away, is
just a start, right?
AnechyNotes
