Monthly Archives: February 2015

“Victims of double murder in Fort Myers Beach identified” headline, Fort Myers News-Press, May 2014

As mentioned before, one of the great joys of cruising the coast is the people you meet along the way. In some cases, it’s the people you don’t meet.

Mike’s boat is looking a bit tired these days.

Such is the case with Mike Spiegel who brought his boat, a shrimper-like tug-trawler, to Fort Myers Yacht Basin on 18 April 2014. The boat still rocks quietly in the slip there although Mike has taken up residence elsewhere in town. The name on the boat’s transom is Rogue Dog but to the live-aboards here she’s known simply as “the Murder Boat.”

Seventy-year-old Mike, his son and dog came up from Miami and paid the Yacht Basin for one-month’s dockage. Dock Master Lief Lustig was quoted in news reports at the time saying, “When I saw him, it was the feeling you get when someone is in the middle of a project, their clothes are dirty, their finger nails are dirty, they’re scruffy and unshaven.”

“He was a little more bizarre than most but it didn’t lead you to believe he was a violent person,” Leif said.

That is until one Thursday morning in May. Mike’s ex-wife Marilyn planned to marry Harry Carlip that Saturday afternoon. Instead, the Lee County Sheriff’s Office says, Mike went to Salty Sam’s Marina in Fort Myers Beach and boarded the motor yacht Bella Mar, owned by Marilyn and Harry.

The name on the transom may give an idea of Mike’s self-image.

A 911 call indicates that just before 8:30 a.m. Marilyn was “frantically yelling at a male she identified as Michael to leave.” Moments later the call ended. A witness reported hearing screaming, then gunfire.

When deputies arrived, Mike was walking away from the marina wearing a raincoat with blood on it. He told deputies “something bad happened.”  You might say that, in as much as Harry and Marilyn both were dead with a fire smoldering in galley of Bella Mar.

Mike was charged with two counts of first degree murder for the killings and one count of arson for setting a fire on board in an attempt to destroy evidence.

He is in jail awaiting trial. Rogue Dog remains in the slip at FMYB, dirty and clearly in need of repair. The one-month lease long since expired but the so-called “Murder Boat”—or more accurately, Murder-er Boat—still gives the neighbors something to talk about.

A lot of interesting folks come and go from these marinas.  Not all are ones you’d care to meet.

Steadfast out.

Sailor on “shore leave” enter the Sox’ southern domain.

Friday, 27 February

George makes the left turn off Daniels Parkway and rolls down the driver’s window to hear what the attendant has to say. As expected, the man with the orange flag in his hand and red “B” on his cap says, “That’s right, ya pahk ohva thaih.”

The Highlander passes cars with tags that proclaim “Live Free or Die,” “Spirit of America” and “Ocean State,” then rolls to a stop on the green grass just outside Practice Field #5, in the virtual shadow of Fenway South at Jet Blue Park (or is it the other way around?). Lest there be doubt, this is the spring training home of the Boston Red Sox.

Fox Sports analyst Ken Rosenthal hopes for inside info from Manager Farrell.

For fans of any major league team, there’s nothing like the atmosphere that surrounds spring training. Every manager likes his team’s chances in the division. Every batter thinks he’ll hit .300 with 30 homers and 120 RBI. Every pitcher plans to win 20. Nobody talks about August injuries. Every fan thinks “World Series.”

None more so this year, perhaps, than those who follow the Sox. These, remember, are the Sox of whom great things always are expected and, recent years notwithstanding, seldom realized. But in this especially cold, bleak New England winter, with Boston buried under snow piled higher than Big Papi, the Sox offer hope. The problem with the Bruins and Celts is that they are as much a part of winter as the nor’easters bringing ice and snow. Not so the Sox, Boston’s Boys of Summer! Any dispatch from Florida warms the heart of New England like a well-stoked furnace.

David Ortiz waits his turn in the batting cage.

Yes! There is hope. Winter will end. Spring will follow. An-dah, there will be cold Sam Adams on a sticky August night at Fenway.

This day, into the adoring throng, venture four intrepid sailors, three of whom no doubt feel as if they’re visiting a strange planet where no “R” is ever spoken, where all must wear navy and red.

“Oh, that Nava kid has a sweet swing,” says one of the natives. “I hope they keep him.” Others comment one of the “new guys,” Pablo “Panda” Sandoval, and the return of Hanley Ramirez.

Pablo Sandoval offers an opinion to Dustin Pedroia while “Skip” listens in.

“Pedey” takes his turn in the batting cage, then “Panda,” each swing examined and analyzed by manager John Farrell and fans clutching the chain link fence behind home plate. There’s polite interest but the entertainment value increases exponentially when “Papi,” David Ortiz, steps into the cage.

On his final turn this day, Ortiz rockets the first three pitches into the outfield. Then the fireworks begin. Boom! Bang! Socko! And so forth. Five straight pitches are launched deep beyond the right field wall. The crowd responds with cheers and applause. Papi smiles and bows from the waist.

The day’s work-out ends. Players disperse. Fans retreat, compare notes, share hopes.

Some no doubt leave to board a Jet Blue to Boston, back to the cold and snow to tell friends, “This is ah yeah,” words to warm New England hearts through what’s left of winter.

Opening day is just a few weeks away.

Go Sox!

Steadfast out.

Sunday, 15 February                                                                                    0.0 SM

More than 1,000 miles with a 22-footer in tow.

The company of friends from home has not been shared for quite some time. Phone calls, yes. E-mail, of course. But to sit face-to-face with good friends is a long-awaited, much-welcomed experience, one that starts this evening with the arrival of Martha and George, all the way from beautiful (snowy) Mathews, Virginia!

Wanting a winter escape, they settled on spending a couple of weeks in Fort Myers, the reason Steadfast returned a few days ago. They’ll stay at Legacy Harbor Hotel & Marina, a few blocks west of where Steadfast lies at the City Yacht Basin. Along with their luggage,

George readies the V for launch.

they also came the 1,055 miles from Mathews towing their Venture 22 sailboat. Her lightweight hull and retractable keel make her a good choice for the skinny waters of the Gulf Coast.

There’s a bit more hauling to be done, though, before the “V” splashes in Florida water: the 21 miles up the road to Burnt Store Marina off Charlotte Harbor. Those are waters with which Martha and George became familiar when they chartered a boat here last winter.

The ladies huddled against the brisk northerly.

While the wind keeps blowing down from the north, Steadfast stays hunkered down in Fort Myers, the “V” at Burnt Store. Once it moderates some, the plan is for her to make the trip up to Charlotte Harbor, too, so the two boats can sail in tandem. Meantime, Quatro Amigos set about to enjoy make the most of the lay-over in the so-called “City of Palms.”

visitors study the Point Ybel Light.

There’s a trip across the causeway to Sanibel, for instance. Despite the traffic heading over, the drive to the state park at Point Ybel, the island’s south end, turns out to be great fun. The wind’s honkin’ down Pine Island Sound on the east side but barely felt on the west shore. That’s where Sanibel Light, the first lighthouse on Florida’s Gulf coast north of Key West, first warned sailors in 1884.

Mr. Edison lights the world.

Their first week here ends with the Thomas Edison (this was his winter retreat, you know) Festival of Light 5K run and “the largest illuminated parade in the southeast United States.” The former includes some 1,500 participants (one from the crew of Steadfast) along with another undetermined thousands lining the racecourse. The parade takes the same path with fire apparatus, motorcycles, marching bands and giant light bulbs wending their way downtown to Jackson and Main.

It’s great of Fort Myers to arrange all this while Martha and George are here. For the crew of Steadfast, the best part is to sharing it all with friends!

Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 11 February                                                                        13.6 SM

“FMYB” may be the most accommodating marina in Florida!

“You guys picked the right night to come in.” This assessment comes from the man who should know, Dockmaster Leif Lustig who adds, “Tonight’s our monthly pot-luck cook-out. There’ll be plenty to eat. Come on up and join us!”

The day already was pretty good, the relaxed pace of the morning morphing into a Tarpon Point departure at 1300 hours. This was by design, SailFlow predicting the brisk northerly would have blown itself out by then.

Leif turns “Grill Master” for the monthly cook-out.

The forecast proved true and, after turning to port to re-enter the Okeechobee Waterway, Red pushed Steadfast up river at an easy five-and-half-knots all the way to downtown Fort Myers and a snug slip on F-Dock at the City Yacht Basin. Once all lines were adjusted and the power cord plugged in (for heat to counter overnight lows again dipping into the low 40s), it was time to check in at the office. Another fun surprise awaited.

“You have a credit of eight days on your account,” explained Leif while flipping burgers on the dockside grill. “Last time you were here, you paid for a month but left early, so just pay your electric and you’re good ‘til the 19^th.”

Good indeed!  It’s not clear if there’s a bad time to come to the Fort Myers Yacht Basin but if there is, it’s yet to be found.

Steadfast out.

Tuesday, 10 February                                                                        37.2 SM

Dolphin already lunch when the cruise boat turns to Cabbage Key.

The cell phone rings. And rings some more. It’d be nice to answer. But even if it could be dug out of the jacket pocket before it goes to voice mail, this is not the time to take a hand off the wheel or an eye off the channel.

Ribbons of foamy lace stream straight down Pine Island Sound, torn from the tops of a two-foot chop just starting to stack up on the surface. But the Sound is fairly protected, islands on either side, so the chop’s not much. Besides, it’s all coming from off the starboard quarter, pushed up by the northerly blowing a steady 18-to-20, gusting as much as 31 (as confirmed later at SailFlow).

It seems a shame not to make the most of such a favorable wind—headed southward as we are—so, not long after pulling out from Placida, Genny goes to work with a loud snap. Red, though not taking the day off, loafs along at an easy 1500 RPM. They play well together, Red and Genny, and have Steadfast moving along comfortably at a nifty six-knots or better.

Not many customers buying bait this morning

She’s making good time, for sure, so it’s not long before Boca Grande Pass is well astern. Then Redfish Pass and Captiva Pass, too. Those brief stretches are the only ones open to the Gulf, when it gets a bit lumpy. Otherwise, it’s bright sun, shining seas and a great run.

But the fun can’t last, right? Sure enough, the waterway turns easterly to round the south end of Pine Island and the seas now splash pretty much dead on the beam. More so toward The Miserable Mile when the waterway’s wide open to the wind whipping down Matlacha Pass. But Steadfast hides for a moment in the lee of Merwin Key, just long enough to get the Genny furled. Red revs up to take control for the last couple of miles and on toward Tarpon Point and Glover Bight.

Mangroves shelter Glover Bight on three sides with the shops and restaurants at Tarpon Point  just a short dinghy ride away .

Once in, there’s time to a) catch one’s breath; b) enjoy the lush surroundings; and c) check the phone to see if this morning’s caller left a message.

Shops with a Mediterranean flair line the pier at Tarpon Point.

“Hey, guys. It’s Rich. Just checkin’ to see how you’re doin’. It’s re-a-a-a-ly blowin’ up here. I mean, I hope you guys are hunkered down somewhere by now. Maybe that spot we showed you up in the mangroves by Boca; or down at Cayo Costa. I don’t know. I’m just thinkin’ that’s a small boat but, hey, you know what you’re doin’, I guess. Anyway, take care!”

Nice guy, that Rich, to check. And yes, we’re doin’ okay. Even better, in fact! Another gorgeous day on the Gulf Coast!

Steadfast out.

Saturday, 7 February                                                                        23.7 SM

The Palm Island Ferry readies to cross to the mainland.

One of the many great joys of traveling on a small boat is the people you meet along the way. Take Patty and Rich, for instance. They were on their 41’ American Tug Sovereign when first we met, locking through the Dismal Swamp Canal. Over dinner in Elizabeth City, the invitation was extended, “So when you get to the Gulf side,” said Rich, “Give us a call. We’ll have a slip for ya and give ya the nickel tour.” And that’s where Steadfast heads today, southward down the narrow length of Lemon Bay to Placida Harbor.

It’s an easy run that includes one ferry crossing and four opening bridges, all in just over three hours. Patty’s on the pier waving hello when Steadfast motors up the channel from Gasparilla Sound. Once tied off, it’s time for cocktails and a quiet dinner of home-made manicotti and salad, followed by cannoli for dessert.

The 1925 light to mark the pass is still in service.

Trees form a natural canopy over Banyan Street.

Now remember that “nickel tour?” A one-time commercial diver, former New York City policeman and then marine entrepreneur, Rich leads a Sunday afternoon tour that would be priced in the twenty-dollar range, at least. Granted, he works with some good material, crossing the privately-owned two-lane Boca Grande Causeway to see every notable location on the island, some twice, from the world famous Gasparilla Inn to the 125-year-old light at Boca Grande Pass.

The latter is where the deep waters of the pass run close to the white sandy beach at the southernmost end of Gasparilla. The pass once was end of the line for Seaboard Railroad cars loaded with Florida phosphate to fill ocean-going ships at the Boca dock. Phosphate now is loaded at Tampa. The dock is in ruins, seemingly the only scar on an otherwise well-maintained island landscape.

A sportfisherman heads in from the Gulf to Pine Island Sound.

Today sportfishermen are the biggest vessels navigating this pass to the Gulf of Mexico. These waters yield more tarpon than any other location in the world and Boca’s home to perhaps the biggest tarpon tournament in the world.

A certain sailor smiles at the thought of a night ashore.

Gasparilla Island, meantime, has forsaken its industrial past in favor of tourism. Boca has always been a unique community, with a large number of wealthy winter residents—the Bush Family and Audrey Hepburn, for example—rubbing elbows with fishermen who lived here year-round.

This started with the opening of the Gasparilla Inn in 1911. The Inn remains much as it did 100 years ago but its menu of amenities has expanded to include championship golf, tennis, croquet, sport fishing, eco tours and on and on. Its popularity as a winter resort has not diminished in the least, a destination of choice for the well-heeled.

Boca sunsets are unforgettable.

Rich’s tour concludes with a stop for dinner at a beachfront-dive-sort-of-place called South Beach. As the name might imply, it’s almost down to the pass, and its patio is a popular perch for watching the sun go down over the Gulf while sipping one’s libation of choice.

What a treat! Patty and Rich could not have been more hospitable in opening to us their beautiful home (not to mention pier!).  And to think the whole memorable experience goes back to a chance greeting at a lock on the Dismal Swamp Canal.

Yes, one of the great joys, for sure.

Steadfast out.