... where the funky aroma of boat greets the nose as the hatch slides back, leading to a couple of hours of mold patrol even before the bags get unpacked.
... where one tosses the dink in the water, not to get back off the boat, but just to clear the forward hatch so it can be be fully opened, the inflow of salt air pushing some of the funk out the companionway.
... where the tiny solar panel keeps the batteries near full charge and the generator, brought to bear for the first time in near a month, runs just off idle even with the 'fridge working hard to make cold again.
... where Biscayne bay lays quiet, giving a pair of returning sailors a chance to regain the use of their sea legs.
|Our neighbor's boat from the cockpit|
Once aboard we found a box of cookies and a bag of coffee sitting on the nav station, beside a note welcoming us home. By evening we were sitting in the cockpit watching the lights of Miami wink on as the sun faded out. The transition from winter in St. Louis to Kintala in southern Florida is a jarring one.
Tomorrow we will pick up where we left off, try to settle into a routine once again. I want to get back to working on Spanish, getting a bit more exercise, and getting Kintala that much closer to being the boat we want her to be. We made it back, but the visit north looks to make for a serious heading change. Plans for “next” are completely undetermined, but coasting easily into the sunset is no longer among them. Perhaps it was unreasonable to ever think that is was.
No matter. We stand on a deck once again, not a floor. Forward is the bow. Ports and hatches open to let in the air and the sunshine. Land is a few hundred yards away. Gulls and pelicans fly overhead. Dinner was in the cockpit and soon the v-berth will rock us gently to sleep.