Valentine’s Day was spent treating and sealing all the exterior teak on the Cape Dory. It took about six consecutive hours but now our boat is officially the cutest on the block. So…happy Valentine’s Day, Cape Dory! Rather than romance, Patrick was overcome by a primal desire to hunt and slay our next meal, so he unilaterally decided that dinner on this special evening would be contingent on the fish that he would catch. I have never actually fished before. I have never seen a live fish outside of an aquarium and although I enjoy eating fish, I am in no big hurry to have one gutted next to me before it is tossed into my frying pan.
Armed with pliers, trashbag and deep sea fishing rod (which turned out to be overkill) we settled on a cement piling to prepare the bait. We used whole frozen shrimp—the most revolting creature known to man—but before the baited hook was even two feet below the surface, it was licked clean by at least two thousand swarming writhing scaly things. Patrick dropped the hook, reeled it in, re-baited the empty hook, and repeated this process around a dozen times. The whole scene was directly analogous to the free weekly dinners for the homeless back in Denver’s Civic Center Park. Overcome by the sort of ambivalence that is only experienced when one is simultaneously starving and nauseous, I insisted that we call it quits and head back for the Cape Dory.
In other news, we recently acquired a dinghy, which is a univocal necessity for anyone who intends to live at anchor. It is shocking how expensive dinghies can be. Those inflatable ones with an outboard engine? Over a thousand! We only had 200$ to work with, so Patrick decided we could forego the engine and resort to oars. I’m not so convinced, but he is confident that my discomfort with having to row everywhere will be alleviated in direct proportion to the increasing mass of his biceps.
Tomorrow we will put the dinghy to the test by taking a short excursion to Longboat Key which is around six hours south of St. Petersburg. We hopefully spend the week at anchor, to get a feel for what life will be like once we have left the comfort of the marina.