A Better Pelican Bay

Sunday, 22 February                                                            39.4 SM

On the one previous visit to Pelican Bay, it was cloudy and cool.  The wind shifted overnight to blow right into the anchorage from the nor’east.  It was nice, no question, but this…

This night, there are twenty-nine (29) anchor lights aglow above Pelican Bay, as large a company as Steadfast has joined for the length of this cruise. All 29 are reflected in the bay’s still waters. Stars fill—no, you need to understand, FILL—the sky above. It seems every blessed inch of the heavens sparkles. It’s amazing how different the sky here is from what’s seen in the city or town or anywhere near a populated space. It is, in a word, lovely. One might even say God-like, perhaps.

Anchored at Ueseppa, the yacht To-Kalon is as big as a house.

It’s already a pretty nice day when Steadfast slips her lines at 0850 and motors out of the City of Fort Myers Yacht Basin. The promise, i.e., forecast, is for it to get even better. Sure enough, by early afternoon, the thick, high clouds push eastward, leaving a great platter of Wedgewood blue, horizon to horizon. Sun fills the cockpit with a welcomed warmth not enjoyed for quite some time.

All is as “it should be,” it being southwest Florida—bright sun, blue sky, calm seas—except those churned up by fellow boaters who are, let us say, less than courteous, bordering on reckless. It’s as if Dierks Bently were here to sing, “I know what you’re doin,’ But what are you thinkin’?” One hand on the wheel, the other with a firm grip on a Bud Light, they’ll nod as they race by at 25 mph, often just a boat length or less away. Chris Carter, the one-time star NFL wide-receiver might simply say, “Com’ on, man.”

The beach at Pelican gets busy on weekends.

Yep, it’s pretty crazy out here along the Caloosahatchee and the “Miserable Mile,” right on up Pine Island Sound. On an otherwise pleasant Sunday afternoon, these folks are nuts. It’s not about seamanship. It’s about how many near misses can I create. And some of these skippers create quite a few.

Oh, well. Boys will be boys.  And nothing can detract from the experience of sliding alongside the sand spit at the north end of Cayo Costa and into the clear rippled water of Pelican Bay.  It’s mid-afternoon when Steadfast arrives, one of the last to do so this day.  But that’s okay.  There’s plenty of room.

Remote, shallow and sheltered, the anchorage at Cayo Costa ranks as one of the best. Anywhere.

The anchor’s down in eight feet, grabs the sandy bottom and digs in, set for the night.  The 12-knot southerly begins to lay down as the sun drops slowly behind the mangrove trees on the island.

It’s warm, quiet, still and beautiful.

Thank you, Lord, from whom all blessings flow.

Steadfast out.