Sea Log - Day Sixteen - Jan. 22nd, 2002 (Tuesday)

We Shove Off!

Well the day has finally come when we will stop thinking about sailing and actually get our hair wet.  Our first task was to view a film in the Treasure Harbor's meeting area describing our responsibilities in the on-going process of protecting the coral beds surrounding the Keys.  It was disturbing to realize the damage we humans are capable.   Meanwhile Capt. Frank Papy arrived, and I finally got a chance to put a face to the voice I'd been chatting with throughout the fall. He took the photo above with all of us ready to sail.  Yes, I brought my spy glass on board too.  Frank Papy comes from Savanna Georgia and has a wonderful southern accent although he can shift gears in a minute and sound like a Buccaneer:

"Call me Fishmeal! Har! Har!" 

The crew thought he was the greatest thing since bated hooks.  I must stop here to mention again here how kind people were to us during this venture--this time Capt. Papy.  

We had agreed to keep Capt. Papy with us only for the days we sailed and then we would moor in Treasure Harbor every evening.  My thought was that it would allow my group who were not used to sailing to get back to solid ground every day, take showers and clean up.  Furthermore, technically, it was cheaper since the skipper would charge less since he could supposedly go home every evening.  But the tides just did not fit that plan.  If we had tried to follow this, we would have not gotten out until very late every day (or very, very early). -----, who runs the charter, showed me on the calendar how things worked and strongly recommended that we stay out at least one night.  I spoke to Capt. Pappy and he agreed.  Then I asked "well, how much more will we owe you?"

"No added charge" he said.  His kindness is this was unexpected and I was and am still deeply thankful.  Meanwhile Capt. Papy's expertise would prove to be solid.  We were very lucky to get him as our skipper.

The South Wind chugged her way out of Treasure Harbor and Capt. Papy prompted us all to yell a farewell to both the harbor and especially to who had helped so much in getting our details finished.  All along the canal, different boats floated, their masts making a sort of forest of poles along both sides of the shore.  The South Wind was neither the smallest nor the largest, to me she seemed just right.  And I remembered that once again it had been Capt. Papy's experience which had encouraged us to choose her.  I wish I had a photo of her by herself, but always being on her kind of made that impossible.

And then we were out into the open ocean! Here's Elayna, having the time of her life!  She was, I think, one of the first to take a turn at the helm. No commentary is needed when one looks at her face.  Joy is wonderful to see.  I think just about everyone had a chance at the helm at one point or another--even me, but more about that later. here.  As we headed out, Capt. Papy explained to us the meaning behind the different colors of the sea--especially in relation to the depths.  But what struck many of us was how the ocean had taken on a new quality, quite different than the sea we had looked out on up in New England.