Janello Words

words that make it even better
Jul 12 '02
FLORIDA KEYS-JULY 2002 At the edges of my vision I could see bright sunlight and puffy white clouds. Shaking my head I refocused on the bow of my kayak to face my current reality. An enormous, black cloud lay in front of me as I sit still in a thin,14 foot, plastic, craft off the coast of the Florida Keys. The keys and I had never really seen eye to eye, so my face did not show surprise as much as it did distress. In my dozen or so trips to the keys, maybe three were without incident. As the cloud grew closer I could begin to hear the rain hitting the surface of the sea. The nearest land were distant mangrove islands that would provide little shelter if any. I refocused again, this time on the bright orange life preserver directly in front of me. Danielle, my traveling partner, hadn’t said much since we realized the storm was headed straight for us. If we tried to paddle for an island we would certainly have been gobbled up by the cumulonimbus ogar way before our feet touched sand. When you are faced with no options there is a weird sense of relief that comes over your mind. Without any choices you really don’t have much to think about. In a situation like this there is only one thing to do. So we did. As our paddles entered the water we dug deep to get the craft up to a decent speed. As we hit our synchronized groove and our speed topped out, we were aimed straight into the black mass. By now it felt as if the cloud was going to pour right onto our kayak. The black and grey mass was mad, spewing electricity and backing it up with thundering bellows that echoed across the flat water. The sound of the rain had increased to a deafening roar and we began to feel drops. Huge, cold, hydrogen-oxygen bombs were exploding off every part of our bodies, our gear and our boat. We continued to paddle, heading as fast as possible to the now visible sunny, white and puffy place just off the bow of our kayak. And then it stopped. No more rain. No more dark. No more paddling. We had reached the end of the storm and like a kid hopping a fence into the neighbors yard, we were transported into a totally different place. With our paddles at ease, we looked back on the giant ball. You could still see the lightning and hear the thunder but it was much less ominous now that we were heading in opposite directions. As the storm grew farther away you could begin to distinguish the dark ball from the rest of the blue sky. As it moved even farther away you could follow the rain from the bottom of the cloud down to where it was smacking the sea. Danielle uttered the only word that had been spoken in the last 20 minutes, “Beautiful”. Turning back to our bow we continued to head for our destination, a small mangrove island that would keep just enough beach exposed during high tide to pitch a tent. It was about 2pm and nearing low tide. From the expectedly endless depths of ocean sand bars began to emerge. Upon closer inspection we realized that our kayak was in only 2 feet of water. Hopping out into the bathtub temperature water we checked our nautical chart and realized that dead low tide would bring water depths of 5-inches. 10 minutes later a 4 mile radius of shallow seas and white sand bars were quickly laid out before us. With a sigh of relief, the sun beating down on us from the bright blue sky and a 16 square mile bathtub at our feet, we agreed it was playtime. We planned our trip about 2 months ago when I was investigating the Dry Tortugas National Park while surfing the web one day. A few hours after that discovery I was on Captain Marty’s website. Marty’s website explained that he rented kayaks and provided a motorized shuttle to a series of mangrove islands off the north coast of Florida’s Big Coppett key. Big Coppett is one of the last keys in the archipelago, about 3 islands from key west (the last island in the keys). We met Marty at our hotel. He was easy to pick out because he had a giant pink kayak strapped to his pickup truck. He was typical of a keys resident, happy and carefree. After a few minutes of chatting we were instructed to follow him to his friend Mitch’s house. There we would leave our car, gear up the kayak and catch our ride out to the mangroves. Mitch had a beautiful house and was also a typical keys resident. He had 3 boats, one of which was our ferry, a full dock and a garage filled with nautical toys that looked as if they had seen better days. With us, them and the geared out kayak loaded onto Mitch’s 12 ft skiff we headed out of the protected harbor and into the bay. Once in the open water Marty pointed out a few landmarks and went over the nautical charts with us. It took about 30 minutes to travel the 4 miles out to the mangroves. At our request Marty dropped us at a point a few miles from our eventual campsite. With the kayak and us safely in the water Marty and Mitch fired up their engine, pointed us in the right direction and headed home. We had booked a 2-day rental for the kayaks from Marty for $45 a day. With the kayak rental we also received paddles, life vests, a small cooler and a diving flag. We had spent another $40 on food and water for the next two days. Our plan was to kayak the 2 miles to our private island, pitch our tent and have a nice dinner on the beach. In the morning we were going to paddle the 4 miles back to Mitch’s house with a few detours to explore the mangrove mazes. Once back at Mitch’s we would drop off the kayak and pick up our car. As playtime continued the water became more and more shallow eventually almost beaching the kayak. We decided to start hiking towards our island and drag the kayak behind us. The water was so shallow at this point that we couldn’t have paddled the kayak if we wanted to. With just one of us in the kayak it would sink enough to lay firmly on the ocean floor. We eventually hit a patch of deeper water and were able to paddle towards the island again. It was just a short half-mile paddle at that point and we made quick work of the distance. Our island sat alone in the sea except for a much smaller sister island that lived about 200 ft. away. Running the kayak onto the shore of the bigger island we found our campsite and pitched our tent, making sure to identify the high water mark before we set camp. After that we took a short hike down an overgrown path leading to the other side of the island. The island was only about 50 yards wide and 75 yards long. We quickly scouted most of the island and realized we were completely alone. As the sun slide lower in the sky the water had reached dead low tide. A huge white sand bar had now connected our island with her smaller sister. As we walked across the land bridge we began to explore our own private Atlantis that had just rose out of the sea. Setting our sites on the horizon we realized the land bridge was much larger than the 200ft. span connecting the islands. We walked almost a mile away from the island before the sea began to rush in over the land. We sat down on the white sand and watched the sun dive beneath the horizon. It felt like we were sitting on top of the sea in the middle of nowhere. After walking back to our island under the last few drops of light we fixed a meal of cured meats and aged cheese, popped a bottle of Sangovese and sat in the middle of the sibling islands looking at the stars. With our bellies full and the wine slowly closing our eyelids we headed back to our tent for the night. In the morning we broke camp and pushed off heading back to the main islands of the keys. It was the first day of lobster season and as we navigated back into some of the deeper waters we began to see dozens of boats with dive flags flying high atop the vessels. Snorklers were bobbing up and down trying there hardest to grab a “keeper” to bring home for dinner. We turned south and headed into the east side of a maze of mangroves. According to our chart if we could find our way out the west side we would be in line with the inlet to get us back to Mitch’s dock. We would have to cross a three-mile section of open water and leave the relative security of the mangroves. Eventually we found our way out the west side of the maze and started heading across the water. About 20 minutes into the crossing I noticed my deck compass was starting to point more and more southwest instead of my planned due south. The winds had picked up and we were drifting a bit more than I anticipated. Over the next hour a head wind developed. That mixed with the east-west wind and the water current, our strokes became useless against the powers of the sea. Realizing this we needed to reassess our situation. We checked our charts and identified two long mangrove islands to the distant west that we could use to block the current while we tried to head south again. Our plan required some back tracking once we reached the main keys but that was our only choice. Shortly after we began paddling we realized our attempt was futile. The current and wind had gotten stronger and was having its way with us. With little hope of reaching the shelter of the islands we had no choice but to move into a defcon 1 situation. Setting our sites on the nearest slow moving lobster boat heading opposite the current, our paddles hit the water at a feverish pace. Nearing the bow of the boat we raised or paddles from the water and grabbed the attention of the captain. The craft slowed down and as they neared we realized we had flagged down a group of liquored up, half naked, uni-sex, lobster divers. We explained our intent and demise and asked for a tow back to shore. They gladly agreed and tossed a rope and two ice-cold beers towards the kayak. A few minutes later we were laying back in our seats sipping at the refreshing barley based beverages and sighing in relief. We had escaped the grips of the sea and learned a valuable lesson in kayaking, always check the weather. Twice. Twenty minutes later the captain and his drunken mates reeled in the line from our kayaks, bid us good luck and sped off in search of another lobster hole. Back on our own power, we slowly made our way through the inlet and towards Mitch’s dock. As we approached he sat with his wife on their third story porch sipping margaritas. He spotted us and yelled down something about being back way earlier than he had expected. Little did he know, the story that had brought us to his door was not one of experienced paddling and navigational expertise. Not letting on anything about our horrific trek home, we loaded our gear into the car, thanked him and headed off to find some food, air conditioning and much needed rest. The next few days were tame in comparison to the beginning of our trip. We mostly took in the local keys flare and relaxed on the beach. A few times we did contemplate getting back out on the water but the memories and margarita mix had disabled the part of our brain needed to act on this idea. It was probably for the best because I knew deep down that my curse with the Florida Keys had surely not been broken. Words and Images by J.Anello (contact: 516-991-3386/j@janello.com)

FLORIDA KEYS-JULY 2002

At the edges of my vision I could see bright sunlight and puffy white clouds. Shaking my head I refocused on the bow of my kayak to face my current reality. An enormous, black cloud lay in front of me as I sit still in a thin,14 foot, plastic, craft off the coast of the Florida Keys.

The keys and I had never really seen eye to eye, so my face did not show surprise as much as it did distress. In my dozen or so trips to the keys, maybe three were without incident. As the cloud grew closer I could begin to hear the rain hitting the surface of the sea.

The nearest land were distant mangrove islands that would provide little shelter if any. I refocused again, this time on the bright orange life preserver directly in front of me. Danielle, my traveling partner, hadn’t said much since we realized the storm was headed straight for us. If we tried to paddle for an island we would certainly have been gobbled up by the cumulonimbus ogar way before our feet touched sand.

When you are faced with no options there is a weird sense of relief that comes over your mind. Without any choices you really don’t have much to think about. In a situation like this there is only one thing to do. So we did.

As our paddles entered the water we dug deep to get the craft up to a decent speed. As we hit our synchronized groove and our speed topped out, we were aimed straight into the black mass. By now it felt as if the cloud was going to pour right onto our kayak. The black and grey mass was mad, spewing electricity and backing it up with thundering bellows that echoed across the flat water. The sound of the rain had increased to a deafening roar and we began to feel drops. Huge, cold, hydrogen-oxygen bombs were exploding off every part of our bodies, our gear and our boat. We continued to paddle, heading as fast as possible to the now visible sunny, white and puffy place just off the bow of our kayak.

And then it stopped. No more rain. No more dark. No more paddling. We had reached the end of the storm and like a kid hopping a fence into the neighbors yard, we were transported into a totally different place. With our paddles at ease, we looked back on the giant ball. You could still see the lightning and hear the thunder but it was much less ominous now that we were heading in opposite directions.

As the storm grew farther away you could begin to distinguish the dark ball from the rest of the blue sky. As it moved even farther away you could follow the rain from the bottom of the cloud down to where it was smacking the sea. Danielle uttered the only word that had been spoken in the last 20 minutes, “Beautiful”.

Turning back to our bow we continued to head for our destination, a small mangrove island that would keep just enough beach exposed during high tide to pitch a tent. It was about 2pm and nearing low tide. From the expectedly endless depths of ocean sand bars began to emerge. Upon closer inspection we realized that our kayak was in only 2 feet of water. Hopping out into the bathtub temperature water we checked our nautical chart and realized that dead low tide would bring water depths of 5-inches. 10 minutes later a 4 mile radius of shallow seas and white sand bars were quickly laid out before us. With a sigh of relief, the sun beating down on us from the bright blue sky and a 16 square mile bathtub at our feet, we agreed it was playtime.

We planned our trip about 2 months ago when I was investigating the Dry Tortugas National Park while surfing the web one day. A few hours after that discovery I was on Captain Marty’s website. Marty’s website explained that he rented kayaks and provided a motorized shuttle to a series of mangrove islands off the north coast of Florida’s Big Coppett key. Big Coppett is one of the last keys in the archipelago, about 3 islands from key west (the last island in the keys).

We met Marty at our hotel. He was easy to pick out because he had a giant pink kayak strapped to his pickup truck. He was typical of a keys resident, happy and carefree. After a few minutes of chatting we were instructed to follow him to his friend Mitch’s house. There we would leave our car, gear up the kayak and catch our ride out to the mangroves. Mitch had a beautiful house and was also a typical keys resident. He had 3 boats, one of which was our ferry, a full dock and a garage filled with nautical toys that looked as if they had seen better days.

With us, them and the geared out kayak loaded onto Mitch’s 12 ft skiff we headed out of the protected harbor and into the bay. Once in the open water Marty pointed out a few landmarks and went over the nautical charts with us. It took about 30 minutes to travel the 4 miles out to the mangroves. At our request Marty dropped us at a point a few miles from our eventual campsite. With the kayak and us safely in the water Marty and Mitch fired up their engine, pointed us in the right direction and headed home.

We had booked a 2-day rental for the kayaks from Marty for $45 a day. With the kayak rental we also received paddles, life vests, a small cooler and a diving flag. We had spent another $40 on food and water for the next two days. Our plan was to kayak the 2 miles to our private island, pitch our tent and have a nice dinner on the beach. In the morning we were going to paddle the 4 miles back to Mitch’s house with a few detours to explore the mangrove mazes. Once back at Mitch’s we would drop off the kayak and pick up our car.

As playtime continued the water became more and more shallow eventually almost beaching the kayak. We decided to start hiking towards our island and drag the kayak behind us. The water was so shallow at this point that we couldn’t have paddled the kayak if we wanted to. With just one of us in the kayak it would sink enough to lay firmly on the ocean floor.

We eventually hit a patch of deeper water and were able to paddle towards the island again. It was just a short half-mile paddle at that point and we made quick work of the distance. Our island sat alone in the sea except for a much smaller sister island that lived about 200 ft. away.

Running the kayak onto the shore of the bigger island we found our campsite and pitched our tent, making sure to identify the high water mark before we set camp. After that we took a short hike down an overgrown path leading to the other side of the island. The island was only about 50 yards wide and 75 yards long. We quickly scouted most of the island and realized we were completely alone.

As the sun slide lower in the sky the water had reached dead low tide. A huge white sand bar had now connected our island with her smaller sister. As we walked across the land bridge we began to explore our own private Atlantis that had just rose out of the sea. Setting our sites on the horizon we realized the land bridge was much larger than the 200ft. span connecting the islands. We walked almost a mile away from the island before the sea began to rush in over the land. We sat down on the white sand and watched the sun dive beneath the horizon. It felt like we were sitting on top of the sea in the middle of nowhere.

After walking back to our island under the last few drops of light we fixed a meal of cured meats and aged cheese, popped a bottle of Sangovese and sat in the middle of the sibling islands looking at the stars. With our bellies full and the wine slowly closing our eyelids we headed back to our tent for the night.

In the morning we broke camp and pushed off heading back to the main islands of the keys. It was the first day of lobster season and as we navigated back into some of the deeper waters we began to see dozens of boats with dive flags flying high atop the vessels. Snorklers were bobbing up and down trying there hardest to grab a “keeper” to bring home for dinner. We turned south and headed into the east side of a maze of mangroves. According to our chart if we could find our way out the west side we would be in line with the inlet to get us back to Mitch’s dock. We would have to cross a three-mile section of open water and leave the relative security of the mangroves. Eventually we found our way out the west side of the maze and started heading across the water. About 20 minutes into the crossing I noticed my deck compass was starting to point more and more southwest instead of my planned due south. The winds had picked up and we were drifting a bit more than I anticipated. Over the next hour a head wind developed. That mixed with the east-west wind and the water current, our strokes became useless against the powers of the sea. Realizing this we needed to reassess our situation. We checked our charts and identified two long mangrove islands to the distant west that we could use to block the current while we tried to head south again. Our plan required some back tracking once we reached the main keys but that was our only choice.

Shortly after we began paddling we realized our attempt was futile. The current and wind had gotten stronger and was having its way with us. With little hope of reaching the shelter of the islands we had no choice but to move into a defcon 1 situation. Setting our sites on the nearest slow moving lobster boat heading opposite the current, our paddles hit the water at a feverish pace. Nearing the bow of the boat we raised or paddles from the water and grabbed the attention of the captain. The craft slowed down and as they neared we realized we had flagged down a group of liquored up, half naked, uni-sex, lobster divers. We explained our intent and demise and asked for a tow back to shore. They gladly agreed and tossed a rope and two ice-cold beers towards the kayak. A few minutes later we were laying back in our seats sipping at the refreshing barley based beverages and sighing in relief. We had escaped the grips of the sea and learned a valuable lesson in kayaking, always check the weather. Twice.

Twenty minutes later the captain and his drunken mates reeled in the line from our kayaks, bid us good luck and sped off in search of another lobster hole. Back on our own power, we slowly made our way through the inlet and towards Mitch’s dock. As we approached he sat with his wife on their third story porch sipping margaritas. He spotted us and yelled down something about being back way earlier than he had expected. Little did he know, the story that had brought us to his door was not one of experienced paddling and navigational expertise. Not letting on anything about our horrific trek home, we loaded our gear into the car, thanked him and headed off to find some food, air conditioning and much needed rest.

The next few days were tame in comparison to the beginning of our trip. We mostly took in the local keys flare and relaxed on the beach. A few times we did contemplate getting back out on the water but the memories and margarita mix had disabled the part of our brain needed to act on this idea. It was probably for the best because I knew deep down that my curse with the Florida Keys had surely not been broken.

Words and Images by J.Anello (contact: 516-991-3386/j@janello.com)