We have spent the past winter in Boot Key Harbor doing a lot of refit work, new solar panels, tricky engine issues, wiring, plumbing, rigging issues, lots of small stuff that we couldn't deal with in Guatemala. Our intention was to finish up the technical work with Joe Hanko this Spring then park the boat and travel to Europe for the summer. Not happening now.
Now, we are self-isolating on Cerca Trova out on anchor in various anchorages around western Florida. One of our favorites is Pelican Bay at the Cayo Costa State Park. The park is closed, and we have been chased off the beach by the Sheriff's patrol, but there are about twenty five other boats in here with us, and no one is doing the boat-to-boat cruiser social thing.
This is very strange. Cruisers are incredibly gregarious, perhaps because we spend so much time alone, so when we are in an anchorage it is only natural to get out and meet people. Not happening now.
In fact, everyone is giving each other the stink-eye as we putt around in our dinghies. There are a few fishing skiffs around, too, but they just blast past and won't even make eye contact (which might be normal behavior for that class of boater, I don't actually know). On the other hand, the wildlife is having a field-day. We have seen more manatees in the last week than we have seen in our entire past seven years of cruising. Ospreys and pelicans everywhere, no trash floating by, no loud music. We actually saw a contrail two nights ago and were awed to see such a powerful remnant of the world before the virus.
We have been getting groceries at a local general store. The store is in the itty bitty town of Boca Grande but only an hour by big-boat over from Cayo Costa. It's an up-market Florida beach town that oozes quaintness. And is populated by folks with a lot of money. So the groceries are expeeeensive! But it saves us having to beat back four hours to Punta Gorda, anchor up, get a ride to the Publix (which is a mile and a half from the water front, then brave the hairy scene inside the store, then get a ride *back* to our dinghy and out to the boat.
Still, we are getting boat-cabin fever. We can't go to the beach, there's little see, there's no diving or snorkeling, and we are mostly out of boat projects. So Jenn has picked up a job answering help-line calls for State of Florida's disaster of an unemployment system. That only took us a full week to unsnarl the IT mess and poor training to get her going. But she is now quite busy and feeling good about doing something active to help the myriad people who are floundering.
And so it goes, until the social limits are relaxed, or we get sick.
