We got boarded ...

... but its not what you think. Yesterday, between the time we set the hook and the rain started, a nice looking trimaran coasted close by so her captain could admire Kintala's vintage racing lines and gleaming teak. Later he set his own hook to ride out the storm (his is the boat in the sunset pic from yesterday) and after that we didn't think much more about him.


This afternoon he came ghosting by again. We starting chatting so he started tacking back and forth behind our stern, clearly an expert sailor. After a half dozen passes or so I suggested he raft up, come aboard, and get a beer. As it turns out Bill is an airplane driver for the US Coast Guard, now under the umbrella of the Department of Homeland Security. He grew up on a sailboat, starting flying when his dad abandoned a circumnavigation in order to run an FBO at an airport. Life long sailor, helicopter and airplane pilot, aircraft mechanic, holder of a 100 ton masters license, some acro time in a Pitts, and he even flew with an old, old friend of mine from my acro days. His airplane history includes Citations, King Airs, Navajos, and the Pitts, airplanes in which I have logged thousands and thousands of hours. Small world, and a really fun visit.

Which, I'm guessing, is not the way most cruisers describe an afternoon spent chatting with a Official from the Department of Homeland Security. He also told us a bit about his work. I'm not a big fan of the militarization of the entire planet or the never ending war that has become the new normal, but Bill is a good guy who goes out after the bad guys. He is welcome on Kintala anytime.

The first part of the day was Deb and I doing some projects on the boat while anchored in a pretty place. I can't say I am a huge fan of being anchored at Elliott Key. We bounced pretty good all night as the dying wind blew 10 to 15 until nearly dawn, due out of our unprotected west. It was quieter come morning but then the power boats starting filtering in for the Sunday on-the-boat day. (NO WAKE marker or not, in my humble opinion anyone who blasts through the middle of a gaggle of anchored boats at full honk should have his big stinking motors filled with cement and handed a pair of oars.) Then the winds picked up again, more weather is moving by, and we are bouncing around once again. We will hang in here for at least one more night, if for no other reason we feel like, after 113 days and nearly 1200 nm, this is the first place were we can clearly claim to have made it to the dream.