Cedar Key

Events of 20 September 2009

       The damn dolphins just won't leave us alone. They mob the front of the boat in small family groups of 10 to 15. They splash and play directly in our path. The water is an opaque green; you can see perhaps 3 feet into its salty depths. Much better than the Suwannee but nothing like the crystal waters of our home 50 miles to the South.

       We arrived in Cedar Key and the entrance to the municipal boat docks was entirely too low for our boat. So we anchored out several hundred yards and took the dinghy into the crowded dock.
       Ah, Cedar Key, I love this place. The small town is a slice of Old Florida with great food and great opportunities to drink. Cedar Key is what Key West purports to be, but is not. Key West is a tourist trap where a drug-addicted underclass of service workers slave away to pay their exorbitant rents and yet live in miserable squalor. Their desperateness evidenced on the crime page of the Key West Citizen in the form of roomate on roomate violence. In contrast, this tiny town of 900 souls perched on a few islands is laid back and fun. Locals are always ready with a smile and a wave. Tourists flock here at times but this place is real. It has always been, and continues to be, an industrial town. The economy is as much about clam farming and fishing as it is about moneyed guests.
       As soon as we are on dry land we see a Golf cart rental – done. It is a little scary allowing Tamara to drive us about town in the cart, but it beats walking.

       Our waitress at the Salt Creek Shellfish Company in Suwannee raved about the chowder at Toni's restaurant. Tamara researched trip advisor on the way down and the positive reviews mean it is our first stop. The chowder is good, but we've had better.
       It is now time to bar hop. The typical drunken meandering ensures. At one point I decided to show my new found drinking buddy, Steve from Sacramento, our houseboat. Steve and I take our dinghy out in the dark leaving Tamara and his girlfriend at the bar. It was pitch black and I cannot find our boat. Dude, where is my boat?
       We wandered about in the dark without success. Boating neophyte Steve repeatedly pointed out the blinking channel markers as my boat. We are both pretty wasted, but I'm always that way when boating so it doesn't affect our search. Finally we found the houseboat. Somehow the houseboat had dragged our 33 pound claw anchor and was firmly against the town's rocky seawall in 2 feet of water. As soon as we reach the houseboat the fishfinder/depth meter on the dinghy dies.
       It is a good thing that I have a guy with me as it makes the recovery process much simpler. Steve lifts the 33 pound anchor and 30 pounds of chain onboard the dinghy and we tow the big boat to safety. I made sure the anchor was set, and then I threw in our 44 pound Delta anchor in a Bahamian moor just to make sure. I turned on the generator so our white and red rope lights were on lighting up the boat like a Christmas tree. Now we will not lose the boat.
       A couple hours later the bars close. Tamara and I return to the boat. It was easy to find and the air conditioning feels good.

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